ANDEAN PAST Volume 9 2009 Editors MONICA BARNES Brazos Valley Museum of Natural History and DANIEL H. SANDWEISS University of Maine Graphics Editor DAVID FLEMING Associate Editor RUTH ANNE PHILLIPS With a special contribution by HEATHER LECHTMAN and FREDA YANCY WOLF DE ROMERO Editorial Advisory Board RICHARD L. BURGER Yale University THOMAS F. LYNCH Brazos Valley Museum of Natural History and Texas A&M University MICHAEL E. MOSELEY University of Florida JAMES B. RICHARDSON III University of Pittsburgh Copyright 2009 by the Cornell University Latin American Studies Program ISSN 1055-08756 ANDEAN PAST is a peer-reviewed, numbered publication series dedicated to research in the archaeology and ethnohistory of Western South America. Current research reports, obituaries, and autobiographies are subject to editorial review only. Although Andean Past focuses on precolumbian times, it includes articles on the colonial period that enhance understanding of indigenous cultures before 1492. ANDEAN PAST encourages data-based submissions, contributions to the history of Andean archaeology, papers grounded in environmental archaeology, fresh interpretations supported by accompanying data, interim and field reports, and the publication of short documents. We emphasize high quality grayscale photographs and black-and-white line illustrations. The Cornell Latin American Studies Program is the publishing institution for ANDEAN PAST. Copyright for Andean Past resides with Cornell LASP on behalf of the editors unless a specific portion, for example, an illustration, is noted as copyrighted by another party. Authors may republish their Andean Past articles, obituaries, or reports, in English or in translation, in print, or in electronic format, provided that at least one year has elapsed since the original publication in Andean Past as defined by the date on the Editor’s Preface, that prior publication in Andean Past is indicated in the republication, that Cornell LASP’s copyright is acknowledged, and that the editors of Andean Past are notified of the republication. If a portion of an article is copyrighted by a third party, authors must request specific written permission from that party to republish. This includes on-line postings in electronic format. Orders should be addressed to: Latin American Studies Program, 190 Uris Hall, Cornell University, Ithaca, New York 14853, U.S.A.; telephone (607) 255-3345, fax (607) 255-8989, email: jc949@einaudi.cornell.edu Inquiries and manuscripts submitted for future volumes should be sent to: Monica Barnes 377 Rector Place, Apartment 3C New York, New York 10280 Telephone (212) 945-0535, cell phone (917) 992-5880, e-mail: monica@andeanpast.org Cover: Workmen restore the Huánuco Pampa ushnu platform as directed by John Victor Murra and Gordon Hadden (1966). Photograph courtesy of the Anthropology Division, American Museum of Natural History. ANDEAN PAST Volume 9 2009 TABLE OF CONTENTS Editor’s Preface by Monica Barnes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v-xii SPECIAL MEMORIAL SECTION: JOHN VICTOR MURRA - INTELLECTUAL, SCHOLAR, TEACHER, AND MENTOR John Victor Murra (August 24, 1916 - October 16, 2006): An Interpretative Biography by Monica Barnes with a Bibliography of Works by and about John Victor Murra compiled by David Block and Monica Barnes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1-63 John Victor Murra: A Mentor to Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65-85 Introduction by Heather Lechtman and Freda Yancy Wolf de Romero . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Anthropology Is My Village by Heather Lechtman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66-68 Mentors as Intellectual Parents by Freda Yancy Wolf de Romero . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69-72 An Extraordinary Teacher Who Taught All the Time by Patricia Netherly . . . . . 72-73 Kicking Off a New Perspective in Ethnohistory by Ana María Lorandi . . . . . . . . 73-75 The Ability to Bestow Confidence and Stimulate New Ideas by Victoria Castro . 75-77 The Green Patchwork Paper by Rolena Adorno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77-79 Do Anthropology the Way Poets Write Poetry by Inge Maria Harman . . . . . . . . 80-82 Eight Thousand Solutions to the Same Problem by Silvia Palomeque . . . . . . . . . 82-85 “Kinsmen Resurrected”: John Victor Murra and the History of Anthropology by Frank Solomon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87-102 GENERAL CONTENT Costanza Di Capua Di Capua (December 17, 1912 - May 5, 2008) by Karen Olsen Bruhns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103-107 Reconstruction of the Burial Offering at Punkurí in the Nepeña Valley of Peru’s North-Central Coast by Víctor Falcón Huayta . . . . . . 109-129 An Analysis of the Isabelita Rock Engraving and Its Archaeological Context, Callejón de Huaylas, Peru by Víctor Manuel Ponte Rosalino . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131-175 Strange Harvest: A Discussion of Sacrifice and Missing Body Parts on the North Coast of Peru by Catherine M. Gaither, Jonathan Bethard, Jonathan Kent, Víctor Vásquez Sánchez, Teresa Rosales Tham, and Richard Busch . . . 177-194 A Design Analysis of Moche Fineline Sherds from the Archaeological Site of Galindo, Moche Valley, Peru by Gregory D. Lockard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195-228 More than Meets the Eye: A Study of Two Nasca Motifs by Ana Nieves . . . . . . . . . . 229-247 Early Cotton Network Knotted in Colored Patterns by Grace Katterman . . . . . . . . . . 249-275 Climate, Agricultural Strategies, and Sustainability in the Precolumbian Andes by Charles R. Ortloff and Michael E. Moseley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277-304 Experiences with the Institute of Andean Research 1941-42 and 1946 by Gordon R. Willey. With an Introduction by Richard E. Daggett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305-316 CURRENT RESEARCH Archaeological Investigations at Antumpa (Jujuy): Contributions to the Characterization of the Early Ceramic Period in the Humahuaca Region by Juan B. Leoni . . . . . . . . . . . . 317-322 San Pedro de Atacama by Carolina Agüero, Mauricio Uribe, and Carlos Carrasco . . . . 323-328 Tarapacá Region by Mauricio Uribe, Leonor Adán, Carolina Agüero, Cora Moragas, and Flora Viches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329-335 New Archaeological and Rock Art Projects in Bolivia by Matthias Strecker, Freddy Taboada, and Claudia Rivera . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336-339 Exchange at Chavín de Huántar: Insights from Shell Data by Matthew P. Sayre and Natali Luisa López Aldave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340-345 La Forteleza at Ollantaytambo by J. Lee Hollowell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346-351 Addresses of Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353-354 Advice to Contributors to Andean Past . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355-357 EDITOR’S PREFACE Shortly before his death in 2002 I persuaded Gordon R. Willey to write his reminiscences of doing field-work in Peru under the auspices of the Institute for Andean Research, an umbrella organization founded in 1936. Over the years the IAR has served to co-ordinate Latin American field research among major universities and museums. In its early days it provided a North American institutional base for Peru’s Julio C. Tello who, in turn, helped to build an interface between North American archaeologists and Peruvian entities. The IAR collected and administered funds from both federal and private sources. It has published or co-published a number of important volumes including Tello’s Paracas (1959, 1979), John Hyslop’s Incawasi, the New Cuzco . . . (1985), and Nispa Ninchis, an interview of John Victor Murra (2000). I saw Willey’s essay as a companion to the institutional histories we published in Andean Past 6 (2001), Richard E. Daggett’s “The Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory: The First Eighteen Years” and David L. Browman’s “The Origins and the First 25 Years (1973-1997) of the Midwestern Conference on Andean and Amazonian Archaeology and Ethnohistory”. When Gordon Willey responded to my request by telephone he startled me by saying, “We were all spies, you know.” I had heard rumors in Peru in the 1970s but never expected a confession! This was the first of a short series of letters and phone calls which I really value. Colleagues have assured me that Willey was joking. Indeed, the suggestion that archaeologists may have provided any sort of information to the United States government at any time is hotly contested, whatever the role of Nelson Rockefeller in obtaining federal ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): v-xii. funding for the archaeological expeditions of the 1940s. Gordon Willey was quite conscientious about fulfilling my request, sending me his manuscript a few weeks before his final hospitalization. Because he sensed that time was short, he asked me to write or commission an introduction. Richard E. Daggett, who has been reconstructing the history of the Institute of Andean Research in connection with his detailed biography of Julio C. Tello, graciously accepted the invitation to put Willey’s recollections in context. For additional biographical information on Willey, see his obituary by Michael E. Moseley in Andean Past 8 and the references therein. One of our Andean Past foci is environmental archaeology. Here we present “Climate, Agricultural Strategies and Sustainability in the Precolumbian Andes” by Charles R. Ortloff and Michael E. Moseley. This is a broad interpretation of the interaction of changing climate and precolumbian water management technology in the development and decline of Andean cultures and states. The authors synthesize the innovations and adjustments that often permitted Andean societies to maintain agricultural productivity in the face of widely varying water supplies from decade to decade and century to century. They argue that the very presence of large-scale, complex, and labor-intensive systems is direct evidence for cultural memory of both extreme weather events and long-term climatic shifts, as well as a range of possible strategies for coping with them. They propose a “vulnerability index” to quantify the relative stability or fragility of various agricultural technologies. They explain why coastal societies are ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) more vulnerable to prolonged drought than highland societies, suggesting a mechanism underlying the long-term shifts of power from the coastal valleys to the highlands, and back to the coast. Some of their observations on Andean water regimes were presented in a preliminary form in “The Miraflores El Niño Disaster: Convergent Catastrophes and Prehistoric Agrarian Change in Southern Peru” by Dennis R. Satterlee, Michael E. Moseley, David K. Keefer, and Jorge E. Tapia A., Andean Past 6 (2001). In Andean Past 9 there is a much fuller exposition. This brings to mind one of the advantages of a stable editorship. From volume to volume, we can develop themes as research emerges. Adso of Melk remarks in Umberto Eco’s novel, The Name of the Rose, “Until then I had thought each book spoke of the things, human or divine, that lie outside books. Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves.” Certainly, the issues of Andean Past talk with one another. Volume 9 contains two independent but interrelated articles on Formative iconography, “An Analysis of the Isabelita Rock Engraving and Its Archaeological Context, Callejón de Huaylas, Peru” by Víctor M. Ponte R. and “Reconstruction of the Burial Offering at Punkurí in the Nepeña Valley of Peru’s North-Central Coast” by Víctor Falcón Huayta. The Isabelita Rock is an important petroglyph. Formative objects in general, and rock art in particular, are often presented without context. Fortunately, Ponte, who conducted archaeological investigations from 1997 to 1999 near Peru’s La Pierina gold mine, is able to present this important work as it is embedded in the archaeology of its region, and by so doing, adds to the corpus of early Andean art. While Víctor Ponte introduces a recently discovered work of Formative art to the archaeological community, Víctor Falcón writes - vi of the recovery of one of the very first pieces of such art to have been discovered by archaeologists. In 1933 Julio C. Tello excavated at Punkurí, a major early religious site in the Nepeña Valley on Peru’s north coast. Among the spectacular finds were a large painted mud relief of a supernatural feline and a burial offering that yielded, in addition to the remains of a woman, some very fine ritual objects including an engraved stone mortar and pestle, and a huayllaquepa or trumpet made from an engraved Strombus shell. As the political tide turned against Tello, the Punkurí finds were lost. No conservation was done at the site for many years, with the result that the feline relief and other architectural features were not preserved. The precious small finds also disappeared, although hope remained that they would someday be located. Falcón and his colleagues have made considerable progress on the re-assembly of the Punkurí artifacts. They discovered the huayllaquepa in a museum storehouse. The physical presence of an object which could be examined for the first time in decades, along with study of the Tello archives, led to a plausible reconstruction of the burial offering sequence. This is important because many authors, including Ponte in this volume, incorporate the Punkurí artifacts in their analyses. Attentive long-time readers of Andean Past will see that Falcón’s paper sets up a dialogue not only with Ponte’s, but with papers by Richard E. Daggett and by Henning Bischof in earlier volumes of our journal. In Andean Past 8 (2007), Daggett wrote of Tello’s so-called “Lost Years”, the early 1930s when Tello, in spite of his fame and accomplishments, or perhaps because of them, was removed as Director of the Museo de Arqueología Peruana. Although the early 1930s were as difficult for Tello as they were for much of the rest of the world, Tello did not give up. He continued to be a very active field worker, vii and Punkurí was only one of his many projects during that time. Daggett revealed the political conditions that beset Tello. Daggett began his serial biography of Julio C. Tello with our very first volume. In Andean Past 1 (1987) Daggett wrote of “Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkurí”. Daggett’s description of the shell trumpet is necessarily vague, given that it had never been properly published before its apparent disappearance; however, Daggett did describe the murals and sculpture in some detail. Likewise, in his important article, “Toward the Definition of Pre- and Early Chavín Art Styles in Peru”, published in Andean Past 4 (1994), Bischof could not incorporate the iconography of the Punkurí shell trumpet into his analysis because of its unpublished and missing status. Finally, more than twenty years after Andean Past first discussed the Punkurí finds, we have a full description of the Strombus ritual instrument and its archaeological context. Breakthroughs like that make our years of editing very satisfying. The Andean coast is one of the very few regions of the world where textile art can survive for centuries, even millennia. Weaving, embroidery, and continuous looping techniques are all well developed there. In this volume Grace Katterman, some of whose work on important, unique, and contextualized precolumbian textiles has already appeared in our series, presents some extraordinary fish-nets in “Early Cotton Network Knotted in Colored Patterns ”. These were found in a cache near the dry mouth of the Ica River. They are so large that conservation had to be done in a swimming pool! Katterman illustrates them, explains how they were made and used, discusses their iconography, and draws our attention to parallels in museum collections. Barnes: Editor’s Preface In a variety of prehispanic and colonial funerary contexts it is not unusual to find human heads and other body parts interred with a principal burial. Of course for every severed foot or hand found in such a burial, there must be, or have been, a body missing those components. In “Strange Harvest: A Discussion of Sacrifice and Missing Body Parts on the North Coast of Peru” Catherine Gaither, Jonathan Bethard, Jonathan Kent, Víctor Vásquez Sánchez, Teresa Rosales Tham, and Richard Busch discuss such a body, a male adolescent or child found at the Santa Rita B site in Peru’s Chao Valley. This individual is missing many parts, but what was left of him was articulated at the time of burial. The authors suggest that he was a sacrificial victim whose body parts were harvested at or around the time of death for use elsewhere. Body parts, specifically eyes, are also considered in Ana Nieves’ paper, “More than Meets the Eye: A Study of Signs in Nasca Art”. Nieves points out that when an intact vessel is viewed, a wrap-around depiction can be seen only partially at any one moment and from any one position. To see the whole figure the pot must be rotated. From certain points of view motifs which are almost lost in the complexity of roll-out drawings became more obvious, and, therefore, seemingly more important. One of these is the eye-navel. In her paper Nieves explores this motif’s connections to plant growth, fertility, and death. Gregory D. Lockard also deals with the problem of complex motifs seen only in fragments. In “A Design Analysis of Moche Fineline Sherds from the Archaeological Site of Galindo, Moche Valley, Peru” Lockard tackles a problem important to field archaeologists, but less appreciated by museum scholars; most of the ceramics recovered from good archaeological contexts come to us in the form of individual sherds. In the case of Moche fineline ceramics we know ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) that the designs carried by these sherds were once components of larger scenes. How can one make a solid analysis on the basis of fragments? Lockard presents a model for doing so. This issue contains memorials to the lives and work of two Andeanists who died in the fullness of years. The first is a special section devoted to John Victor Murra, professor emeritus at Cornell University (the publisher of Andean Past). The second is an obituary of Costanza Di Capua by Karen Olsen Bruhns. In many ways the experiences of Murra and Di Capua ran in parallel. Both were born European Jews whose lives were seriously disrupted by the anti-Semitism and violence of the mid-twentieth century. Both used immigration as a means of coping with their problems. In 1938 dictator Benito Mussolini stripped Italian Jews of their civil rights. Costanza’s cousin, Alberto Di Capua had settled in Ecuador and, in 1940, she married him by proxy and joined him in Quito. Although she had to adjust to an environment very different from her beloved Rome, Doña Costanza became an exemplary wife and mother, citizen of her new country, and a well respected scholar. She was not part of John Murra’s circle, but she fulfilled many of his ideals including independent, creative scholarship and the founding of institutions so that work could continue. She had a role in the establishment of the Museo del Banco Central del Ecuador, of the Quito Philharmonic Orchestra, and of Quito’s first Jewish house of worship. John Murra came to the United States as a youth, in part to avoid further incarceration in Romania because of his Communist political activities. He volunteered to fight for the Loyalists in the Spanish Civil War. Disqualified by his war wounds from service in the U.S. military, and perhaps through the personal intervention of Nelson Rockefeller, Murra was in Ecuador - viii doing archaeological field-work during part of the Second World War and then performed intelligence services for the United States Army stateside while the conflict continued. After 1963, he devoted himself almost exclusively to Andean anthropological topics. He became one of the most famous, respected, and influential scholars in his field. Here we concentrate on John Murra as a teacher, writer, and public intellectual. For my short biography of Murra I conducted archival research at Vassar College, where he taught from 1950 to 1951, and, with three year-long leaves of absence, from 1954 to 1963. I also studied Murra’s papers deposited in the Smithsonian Anthropological Archives and did further archival research at New York University’s Tamiment Library, and at the American Museum of Natural History. In writing this biography I drew not only on the extensive documentation by and about John Murra, but upon discussions with his colleagues, as well as my own impressions and knowledge of two of the institutions which provided him a base. I believe I am the only Andeanist still alive who knew John Murra personally and also holds degrees from both Vassar and Cornell. Writing a short biography of John Murra was a fascinating project, not in the least because, from the late 1930s until the early twenty-first century, he was in touch with a large number of both famous and emerging anthropologists, from A. R. Radcliffe-Brown and Ruth Benedict, to my fellow editor Daniel H. Sandweiss, who inherited Murra’s bibliographical notes on Soviet ethnography. As is usual with historical research, human memory and documentation are not always a perfect fit. In trying to resolve contradictions, I gave precedence to documents, especially official documents, produced at the time events occurred. Although I knew John Murra personally, I did not know him well. However, there are ix others who did. In particular, many women remember him as an excellent mentor. Heather Lechtman, who was one of John Murra’s students at Vassar College in the 1950s, and Freda Yancy Wolf de Romero, who met Murra in 1963 at the American Ethnological Association meeting at Cornell University, invited some of their friends and colleagues to share testimony about Murra’s role in their lives. In addition to contributions by Lechtman and by Wolf, we have short essays by Patricia Netherly, by Ana María Lorandi, by Victoria Castro, by Rolena Adorno, by Inge Maria Harman, and by Silvia Palomeque. Their portraits are varied, yet consistently depict a man utterly without gender prejudice, who encouraged women to be their true selves. For many of these women, Murra was their most important teacher. Castro emphasizes Murra’s power to instill confidence in others. This is an ability Murra knew he had. On October 8, 1963 he wrote in his diary, “Since Albacete [headquarters of the International Brigades in the Spanish Civil War] I have had this skill of provoking confidence from various groups.” In addition to being an original scholar, Murra was a perspicacious critic. This is reflected in his numerous book and film reviews, but also in his teaching. While often being supremely influential, teaching is an activity that can be quite ephemeral. Lechtman et al. provide us with a vivid picture of Murra’s interactions with students. Complementing their essays, Frank Salomon, John V. Murra Professor of Anthropology at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, gives us a sense of Murra’s lectures in an essay entitled, “‘Kinsmen Resurrected’: John Victor Murra and the History of Anthropology”. Salomon reconstructs Murra’s views from notes taken during courses offered at Cornell in the early 1970s. This is a topic upon which Murra never published directly, which is a pity because it is clear that he had both insight and strong opinions on the subject. At Salo- Barnes: Editor’s Preface mon’s request, we subjected his article to strict peer review, as well as two levels of editorial review. In working on the John Murra section I realized just how many intellectual kinsmen and ancestors we anthropologists have. A little field testing with Andeanist scholars at various stages of their careers revealed that no one could identify more than a fraction of the individuals mentioned in the John Murra section and in Daggett’s introduction to Willey’s reminiscences. So that these pieces would make sense, we wrote a series of biographical footnotes. In all we have almost 150 such notes. Although these cover only a few overlapping circles within anthropology and her sister sciences, they reveal a dazzling intellectual complexity. I have a renewed respect for those who specialize in the history of anthropology. As a graduate student under the influence of Murra, Salomon undertook a Cornell sponsored field trip to Ecuador. Among the scholars he met there was Costanza di Capua. Murra emphasized the role of dedicated amateurs in building national anthropologies and acknowledged the conflicts that developed between credentialed professionals and those who were selftrained. Costanza was a model aficionada, beginning with her studies of the baroque art and architecture of Quito, and continuing with her major study of figurines, “Valdivia Figurines and Puberty Rituals: An Hypothesis”, published in Andean Past 4 (1994), and with her examinations of trophy heads, precolumbian seals or stamps, ancient Ecuadorian ceramic iconography, and the symbolism associated with the Virgin Mary. One of the unique features of Andean Past obituaries is that we try, in so far as possible, to publish a complete bibliography of works by and about the deceased, unless such a list of publications has already appeared. We go beyond what ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) a reader would find with a casual Google or JSTOR search and I challenge you, Reader, to put us to the test. When a scholar dies after a long career the list can extend to five or six double-column 10-point pages, as it does with Edwin Ferdon and Richard Schaedel in Andean Past 8, and with Frédéric-André Engel in Andean Past 7. This issue of Andean Past contains an even longer bibliography of the works of John Murra compiled by David Block and myself with the help of colleagues acknowledged in a note included with that bibliography. Murra’s bibliography presented particular challenges. Not only did he publish frequently in first-tier North and Latin American academic journals, he wrote for a general audience in periodicals including The Nation and Lima’s El Comercio. Murra kept his major work in print by republishing it in a variety of venues, sometimes in translation, and sometimes with updates and revisions. Colleagues have told us about expected posthumous publications. In his early years Murra frequently commented on African, Puerto Rican, and French Caribbean cultures, politics, and letters. We hope that our bibliography reflects the full span of his intellect. Although we worked on it until the moment of going to press we are certain it is not complete. If you know of anything we have missed, please let us know. In this issue we have another installment of “Current Research Reports”, a feature we began with Andean Past 6 (2000/2001). These short pieces allow researchers to communicate their latest findings and conclusions unrestricted by peer review. This volume includes reports on the area around San Pedro de Atacama, northern Chile by Carolina Agüero, Mauricio Uribe, and Carlos Carrasco, as well as one on Chile’s Tarapacá Region by Mauricio Uribe, Leonor Adán, Carolina Agüero, Cora Moragas, and Flora Viches. Juan B. Leoni presents his find- -x ings on the Early Ceramic Period in the Humahuaca region of northwestern Argentina. Lee Hollowell discusses portals at the Fortaleza/ Templo del Sol of Ollantaytambo in Peru’s Urubamba Valley and suggests that the Templo del Sol is an ushnu. He further postulates that the original Ollantaytambo ushnu occupied a position at or near the location of the present church. Matthew P. Sayre and Luisa López Aldave write about the ways in which data derived from shells shed light on patterns of exchange at Chavín de Huántar, a topic related to Falcón’s observations on the Punkurí finds. Matthias Strecker, Freddy Taboada, and Claudia Rivera report on two rock art projects sponsored by SIARB, the Bolivian Rock Art Research Society. One is the Vallegrande Project in the Department of Santa Cruz that studies and protects the Paja Colorado Cave with its complex rock art. The other is the Betanzos Project in the Department of Potosí where study of the mural art of small caves and rock shelters is integrated into archaeological survey. As I have worked on the past few issues of Andean Past, it has become apparent to me that not all scholars have mastered the difficult work of preparing manuscripts for publication. We sometimes receive submissions which have real merit in terms of underlying research, data reported, and analysis, but have flaws that would seem fatal to many editors. Among the most common are inaccurate citations, poor illustrations, convoluted prose, apparent inconsistencies, and sometimes even bad spelling and grammar. For a long time we have served as a writers’ workshop via e-mail. We consult intensively with willing authors, helping them turn imperfect submissions into fine published papers. I think this is one of our most important contributions to Andean studies. We have the continuing opportunity to help researchers improve their articles. People whose work first xi appears in Andean Past often go on to build a solid list of articles. Except for our Current Research section, obituaries, and personal recollections such as Gordon Willey’s and Dick Daggett’s contribution to this volume, all Andean Past articles are subject to strict peer review, as well as two levels of editorial review. For many reasons I strongly prefer signed reviews. Thus I am especially grateful to reviewers Robert Ascher, Galen Brokaw, David Fleming, Alice Kehoe, and Kevin Vaughn for allowing us to reveal their names, facilitating communication with the authors of submissions. We also appreciate the important contributions of the anonymous reviewers who have helped us select papers for Andean Past 9. We are grateful to Treva Levine of Cornell University’s Latin American Studies Program for her essential work in the printing and distribution of Andean Past. Sometimes readers and authors encourage us to include color illustrations in Andean Past. While there is no question that faithful color reproduction increases the informational content of publications, it also adds greatly to their costs and may, in any case, be technically impossible. To render color accurately it is necessary to use glossy fine art paper, a very expensive proposition. It is also quite demanding of computer memory because color illustration files are always larger than those of the same object or scene rendered in greyscale. Furthermore, as anyone who photographs an object, prints the photo on a digital printer, and then compares the print with the original object quickly discovers, it is very difficult to reproduce color without significant shifts. Only photographs taken with a standard color scale in view can have their color rendered accurately. In addition, all monitors and printers used must be carefully calibrated to produce standard, numerically defined colors. Digital cameras and scanners cannot be calibrated with present technology. Barnes: Editor’s Preface Thus, accurate color reproduction is a daunting process in museum fine art publication and would be almost impossible with the material available to Andean Past. By using greyscale renditions we signal that color has been abstracted, and the reader is less likely to be led astray by the subtle, or not-so-subtle, deviations from the color of the original subject that are almost inevitably an element of color photographs. In our layout we separate, for the most part, black and white text from grayscale. This allows for better scanning of the print versions of our articles.1 The editors personally undertake all aspects of Andean Past from acquisitions, to reviews, to line editing, to graphic design and layout as our alumni contribution to Cornell University, and as a service to our discipline. We are generally not remunerated for this and met our own expenses, with the exception of some overhead provided by the University of Maine, Orono. The purchase price of Andean Past covers the printing and distribution only, accomplished by Cornell University’s Latin American Studies Program. We hope readers remember this when they ask us for costly improvements. Unless they can identify additional sources of financial support, they are asking us to increase our outlay from personal funds. This is not always possible. Lately I have felt some external pressure to transform our journal into an open access internet publication. Readers who advocate that should understand that there is a good reason why “open access” is not called “free access”. Under open access models, ultimate costs of publication are transferred from the consumers to the producers. In that sense open access follows the model of advertising and info1 To get an optimal scan, set the scanner for “black and white”, and scan the text. Change the scanner setting to “grayscale” for the photographs and continue. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) mercials. Open access is costly to publishers and authors and the financial arrangements underlying it are usually complex, sometimes underwritten by government funding. The economics of open access are often obscure to scholars affiliated with large, well-endowed institutions who can absorb the expenses of faculty and students. For example, the costs of maintaining JSTOR are huge. Independent scholars who must pay for their own web pages quickly learn the true costs of posting large amounts of material on the Internet. Whenever one makes such Internet postings one must keep copyright in mind. Andean Past has one of the most liberal policies among journals in this respect. Like our peers, we hold copyright to the journal’s contents. However, because we encourage sharing our articles with monolingual - xii Spanish-speaking colleagues, we grant blanket permission to authors to republish their articles, in the original or in translation, including on the Internet, provided one year has passed since the work was published in Andean Past. As we send this issue of Andean Past to press, our tenth volume is in progress. I can assure readers that it will be another solid, data based, book length contribution to our field. However, its exact contents are largely up to you. Monica Barnes 1 November 2009 JOHN VICTOR MURRA (AUGUST 24, 1916 - OCTOBER 16, 2006): AN INTERPRETATIVE BIOGRAPHY MONICA BARNES Brazos Valley Museum of Natural History BIBLIOGRAPHY BY DAVID BLOCK (University of Texas, Austin) and MONICA BARNES John Victor Murra at the 1958 Vassar College graduation. Graduate is Margaret Johnson-Gaddis; photograph by John Lane Studio, Poughkeepsie, New York, courtesy of Vassar College. INTRODUCTION John Murra’s life spanned the short twentieth century. He was born during the First World War and died more than five years after the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York and Washington. He personally encountered ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 1-63. many of the problems presented by his perilous times. These included Communism, McCarthyism, Fascism, war, anti-Semitism, and immigration. He faced and overcame them with the tools of armed struggle, psychoanalysis, and anthropological research, emerging as one of the most influential Andeanists to date. His major ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) contributions to our understanding of how prehispanic cultures, especially the Inca, functioned economically, politically, socially, and ecologically are set out in his doctoral dissertation (Murra 1956a), and in a long, oftrepublished and re-worked series of short articles, book chapters, and published comments, usually in venues where peer review was not a constraint.1 He also made available a good deal of the documentation supporting his interpretations (Guaman Poma 1980; Murra [editor] 1991; Ortiz de Zúñiga 1967, 1972). His archaeological work is significant (Murra 1942, 1955f, 1962, 1966a; Murra and Morris 1976; Thompson and Murra 1966). Indeed, his first scholarly publication (Collier and Murra 1943), based in part on his M.A. thesis (Murra 1942), remains essential to an understanding of Ecuadorian prehistory, and was last republished in 2007. The results of his Huánuco Project, officially called “A Study of Provincial Inca Life”, although incompletely reported, nevertheless are a major component of Inca studies. However, his greatest contribution is probably the insight that documents, the raw material of historical reconstructions, could be viewed from an anthropological perspective and integrated into research incorporating archaeological evidence. Given that anthropology itself in the mid-twentieth century was rather a-historical, with emphasis on a timeless “ethnographic present”, this was a stunning breakthrough.2 1 C.f. Lechtman and Wolf, n.d.; Murra 1958a, 1958b, 1960a, 1961b, 1962, 1964a, 1964b, 1966b, 1972a, 1974a, 1974c, 1975a, 1976a, 1978b, 1978c, 1982a, 1982b, 1985a, 1985b, 1985c, 1985d, 1986a, 1987a, 1999, 2002a. For work by and about John Murra not incorporated into the text of this obituary see the bibliography that is part of this special section on the life and work of John Victor Murra. 2 In stating this, I do not wish to diminish the importance of other scholars who simultaneously and independently arrived at similar conclusions. In this respect, as in many others, the works of John H. Rowe and R. Tom Zuidema are particularly noteworthy. Rowe’s close and sustained study of colonial records was an approach strongly en- -2 Murra discouraged scholars from studying the Spanish Colonial Period per se. To Murra, Spain’s Golden Age was a time of catastrophe for the indigenous peoples of the Americas. He felt that intellectual effort in New World ethnohistory should be concentrated on those early documents by eyewitnesses that could elucidate prehispanic times. Following the leads of his Peruvian friends, the novelist, poet, and anthropologist José María Arguedas3 and the historian María Rostworowski,4 Murra recognized the importance of visitas, colonial reports of official inspection tours. Several were published or republished under his general direction (Murra [editor] 1964, 1991, Ortiz de Zuñiga 1967, 1972). From the minute details available in visitas (some make house-by-house inventories, while others contain information on regional shrine systems or economic production) Murra could discern large patterns in Incaic and early colonial organization. dorsed by Murra. Although Murra did not share Zuidema’s emphasis on religion, ritual, and symbolism, he respected Zuidema’s scholarship and supported him with positive grant recommendations. 3 José María Arguedas Altamirano (1911-1969) is one of Peru’s most famous writers in both Spanish and Quechua. His fiction often explores the clashes between ethnic groups in early twentieth century Peru. Arguedas was director of Peru’s Casa de Cultura during part of the time John Murra directed field-work at Huánuco. Arguedas died as a result of his second suicide attempt. 4 María Rostworowski Tovar de Diez Canseco (b. 1915) spent her childhood in Peru, Poland, France, England, and Belgium. In 1935 she returned to Peru, living on her father’s hacienda in Huánuco. She took courses taught by historian Raúl Porras Barrenechea at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. She has concentrated on the social, economic, and religious dimensions of the prehispanic societies of the Peruvian coast. She is a founder of the Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and the author of several books of collected essays and numerous articles. 3He was one of the first to appreciate that the Mestizo Peruvian chronicler and artist Guaman Poma de Ayala was not a deranged malcontent, but rather a key reporter and insightful analyst (Murra 1956a:7). Working with Rolena Adorno (see Adorno’s contribution, this volume, pp. 7779) and native Quechua speaker Jorge (George) Urioste,5 Murra produced what has become the standard transcription of Guaman Poma’s Nueva crónica y buen gobierno (Guaman Poma de Ayala 1980 [c.1616]). His contributions to Andean ethnohistory are immense.6 Murra’s best known explanatory framework is his theory of “vertical complementarity” which posits that Andean societies provided for themselves by managing disparate ecological niches. The steepness of the Andean terrain insures that ecological conditions often vary greatly over relatively short distances. Because no single ecozone can produce all that is necessary for subsistence, Andean ethnic groups and states, according to Murra, maintained control of various zones, frequently not in the form of contiguous territory, but rather as strings of “islands” in an imagined “vertical archi5 Jorge L. Urioste was born in Bolivia and is a native Quechua speaker. He is a Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. He has collaborated with a number of people associated with Cornell University, most notably linguist Donald Solá (1922-2008), anthropologist Frank Salomon (note 48), literature specialist Rolena Adorno and John Victor Murra. Among his important publications are The Huarochirí Manuscript: A Testament of Ancient and Colonial Andean Religions (with Frank Salomon; 1991) and the various Murra/Adorno/Urioste editions of Guaman Poma’s Nueva crónica . . . 6 Murra 1946, 1948, 1956a, 1958a, 1958b, 1960a, 1961a, 1961b, 1962, 1964a, 1964b, 1966b, 1967a, 1967b, 1967c, 1967d, 1968a, 1968b, 1970a, 1970b, 1970c, 1972a, 1972b, 1974a, 1974b, 1974c, 1975a, 1976a, 1976c, 1978a, 1978b, 1978c, 1978d, 1979a, 1979c, 1980a, 1981a, 1982b, 1981b, 1982b, 1982c, 1983b, 1984a, 1984b, 1985a, 1985b, 1985c, 1985a, 1986a, 1986b, 1987a, 1987b, 1987c, 1988a, 1988b, 1989a, 1991a, 1991b, 1992, 1998, 1999, 2002a, 2002b. Barnes: John V. Murra pelago”. Thus, high altitude grasslands could produce meat and animal fibers. At slightly lower altitudes just below the upper limit for plant cultivation tubers such as potatoes, oca, and ulluco were grown. Other crops, including quinoa, maize, beans, chilli peppers, lupines, cotton, coca, and fruit were planted at still lower altitudes. Establishments in the tropical forests on the eastern slopes of the Andes yielded wood, feathers, and other forest products while fish, seafood, and aquatic plants were obtained from lakes and the ocean, and salt and guano were collected where they occurred. Different forms of land tenure and exchange are possible under such conditions, but Murra postulated that ethnic groups and polities controlled or shared at least some non-contiguous territory in each important zone. Murra also made significant contributions to our understanding of the role of craft production and state-sponsored settlement practices under the Incas (Murra 1958b, 1978c, 1982b). POLITICS, BUT NOT AS USUAL John Victor Murra was born Isak Lipschitz in Odessa, Ukraine, then part of imperial Russia. Murra’s father was raised in a Jewish orphanage after his own father had died. Murra’s mother was a visually impaired teenager when she married. Although both his parents were Romanian Jews, Murra did not have a particularly religious upbringing. Murra’s father was anti-clerical due to his experiences in the orphanage. Nevertheless, Murra celebrated his Bar Mitzvah as a boy and in his later years he expressed a belief in God and God’s intervention in his life. Murra spent the greater part of his childhood in Bucharest, Romania. During Murra’s early years Ukraine was a violent place as the First World War morphed there into the Ukranian War of Independence which blazed from 1917 until 1921. Although his father was ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) one of eight children, Murra was not close to family members. Exceptions were his only sibling, his sister, physicist Beatrice [Ata] Lipschitz Iosifescu, who later translated and compiled Murra’s dissertation and other works, creating a volume in Romanian published in 1987 (see Murra 1956a), and his father’s younger brother, who played a key role in Murra’s life. Although Murra often expressed negative feelings towards his mother, they remained in contact until her death in August 1980. As a teenager, Murra’s passions were soccer, books, and politics (Castro et al. 2000:22-23). His father insisted that he study modern languages at the Lycée Georghe Lazer in Bucharest and with private tutors. Before the age of eighteen, in addition to Romanian and Russian, Murra had mastered French, English, and German. Later, while a soldier in the Spanish Civil War, he acquired fluency in Spanish. There is no evidence that Murra studied ancient languages such as Latin or Greek, but he apparently knew enough Hebrew to read from the Torah at his Bar Mitzvah. He later expressed regret that he was unable to acquire proficiency in Quechua. Murra’s father also required him to apprentice in Romanian and Yugoslavian paper factories. This gave Murra some familiarity with the Croatian language, and arguably his first anthropological experiences as he interacted with workers who were members of various ethnic groups (Murra in Rowe 1984:635). Not a sufficiently talented athlete to play sports professionally, Murra remained involved with soccer by publishing reports on matches in Dimineata, a Romanian newspaper. By age 16 his involvement with Communism and the Social Democratic movement, although legal, had cost him jail time and expulsion from his lycée (Cas- -4 tro et al. 2000:17). Nevertheless, he passed his baccalaureate exams in 1933.7 Murra must also have suffered from the virulent prejudice against Jews which was common in Romania during the 1920s and ’30s. The Ministry of the Interior organized and financed university anti-Semitic groups like the Legion of Michael the Archangel which became the fascist Iron Guard. In December 1927, when Murra was eleven years old, the Legion carried out a pogrom that destroyed thirteen synagogues and their Torahs. Jews were beaten and humiliated and throughout the 1930s the situation of the Romanian Jews became increasingly desperate as Nazi influence grew. To extricate him from a difficult situation, Murra’s father sent him to Chicago in December 1934, to live with his youngest paternal uncle, a professional double bass player (ibid). Although Murra’s initial residence in Chicago was one of the accidents of his life, the academic connections he forged there influenced him during his entire career. In Chicago Murra perfected his English and enrolled as an undergraduate at the University of Chicago, with advanced standing, and he began to study social sciences. In 1936 he obtained his A.B. in Sociology and married Virginia Miller, a fellow student-militant. Murra’s teachers at Chicago included such famous figures as A.R. Radcliffe-Brown,8 Fred 7 A European baccalaureate is a formal educational qualification generally more advanced and specialized than an American high school diploma, but less advanced than an American bachelor’s degree. It is intended as preparation for university studies. 8 Alfred Reginald Radcliffe-Brown (1881-1955) was a prominent English social anthropologist who contributed greatly to an understanding of small, non-Western societies. He studied at Cambridge University, conducted extensive field-work in the Andaman Islands and Western 5Eggan,9 Harry Hoijer10 (ibid: 28), R. Redfield,11 Australia, and then taught at the University of Chicago from 1931 to 1937. Two of his best-known books, The Andaman Islanders (1922), and The Social Organization of Australian Tribes (1931) are based on his field-work. In books such as A Natural Science of Society (1957), and in numerous articles, he set out his views of so-called primitive societies as phenomena. Barnes: John V. Murra and Fay-Cooper Cole 12 (Redfield and Cole 1947). Cole became one of Murra’s strongest advocates. For his part, Murra always expressed respect for Cole (Murra in Rowe 1984:636), in particular crediting Cole with introducing him to ethnohistory through the Jesuit Relations, annual accounts sent to the General, or head of the Jesuits, about mission conditions in the Mississippi drainage and in other parts of the 9 Frederick Russell Eggan (1906-1991) received a Ph.B (1927) and Master’s Degree (1928) in psychology from the University of Chicago. He then became an anthropology student of A.R. Radcliffe-Brown (note 8) and Fay-Cooper Cole (Note 12) at Chicago, receiving a Ph.D. in 1933. Eggan first taught at the University of Chicago in 1935, became the Harold H. Swift Distinguished Professor there in 1962, and retired from Chicago in 1974. He was a member of the National Academy of Sciences and a President of the American Anthropological Association. In his work he combined the principles of British sociocultural anthropology with the historical approach of Franz Boas and applied them to the study of American Indian tribes, especially the Hopi, and to the Tinguian, a group in the Philippine highlands also studied by FayCooper Cole. He developed an approach called “controlled comparison”. Among his works are The Kinship System and Social Organization of the Western Pueblos (1933), Lewis Henry Morgan and the Future of the American Indian (1965), and The American Indian . . . (1966). For an interview see Ernest L. Schusky’s “Fred Eggan: Anthropologist Full Circle” published in The American Ethnologist (1969). Several obituaries of Eggan have been published, including one by one by Alfonso Narvaez (The New York Times, May 9, 1991), one by Nathalie F. S. Woodbury (Anthropology News, September 1991), and another by Aram A. Yengoyan (Asian Studies, 1991). 10 Harry Hoijer (1904-1976) was an anthropological linguist who studied American Indian languages including Athabaskan and the now-extinct Tonkawa isolate. He taught at the University of Chicago as a temporary instructor from 1931 until 1940. He was the co-author, with Ralph Beals, of An Introduction to Anthropology (1953) and the author of articles in journals including American Anthropologist, Language, and International Journal of American Linguistics, among others. For biographical information on Hoijer see “Harry Hoijer, 19041976” by Ralph L. Beals, published in American Anthropologist (1977). 11 Robert Redfield (1897-1958) received his A.B. from the University of Chicago in 1920 and a J.D. from its law school in 1921. After work as an ambulance driver in World War I, a brief stint in law practice, and a trip to Mexico in 1923, he began his anthropological career as a student of Fay-Cooper Cole’s at the University of Chicago. In 1927 he was hired as an instructor in anthropology by the University of Chicago and, in 1928, he received his doctorate in anthropology and was appointed an assistant professor, the start of a successful career as a teacher and administrator. His published studies of Mexican communities include Tepotzlán, (1930), Chan Kom (with Alfonso Villa-Rojas, 1934), and The Folk Culture of Yucatan (1941). His major books also include The Primitive World and its Transformations (1953), The Little Community (1955), and Peasant Society and Culture (1956), among others. For an obituary see “Robert Redfield, 1897-1958” by Fay-Cooper Cole and Fred Eggan, published in American Anthropologist (1959). 12 Fay-Cooper Cole (1881-1961) was an expert on the peoples and cultures of Malaysia and the Philippines, and one of the developers of twentieth century American archaeology. Cole graduated from Northwestern University in 1903. He obtained a doctorate from Columbia University in 1914. This was based on work among the Tinguian that he did under the auspices of the Field Museum. He is the author of The Wild Tribes of the Davao District, Mindanao (1913), based on field-work performed with his wife in 1910-12, and of Traditions of the Tinguian (1915) among whom he and his wife did field-work in 1907-1908, as well as The Peoples of Malaysia (1945). The Coles’ last ethnographic expedition was to Indonesia in 1922-23. In 1924 Cole was appointed an assistant professor in the University of Chicago’s Department of Sociology and Anthropology where he had a long and distinguished career. During the 1930s he conducted an archaeological survey of Illinois in which Murra participated. He published Kincaid, a Prehistoric Illinois Metropolis (1951), and Rediscovering Illinois . . . (with Thorne Duel, 1937). For an obituary see “Fay-Cooper Cole” by Fred Eggan, published in American Anthropologist (1963). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) world where the order worked. Murra also appreciated the Illinois field school that Cole operated for many years because it helped to build Americanist vocations (Frank Salomon, personal communication, 9 November 2008). In Chicago Murra re-established contacts with Communist youth groups and demonstrated against war and racial segregation (Anon. 1947b; Redfield and Cole 1947). In November 1936 he was recruited to fight Fascism in the Spanish Civil War. His passage to France was paid with Communist funds and his military identification document was issued on 14 April 1937 (Lechtman, this volume, p. 66). In contrast to many Second World War veterans of both sides who had experienced heavy combat and were reluctant to mention their participation, for the rest of his life Murra proudly listed his service as an infantry corporal, in the 58th Battalion, 15th Brigade of the Spanish Republican Army on his curriculum vitae as part of his employment history. Nevertheless, privately he admitted that he considered his time in Spain to have been unsuccessful. On 15 October 1963 Murra wrote in his diary, “Think of conversation with Tabb and Iraqui (sic) at Genoa when I refused to volunteer a second time. I told them that as far as my personal goals were concerned, Spain had been a failure. I suppose what I meant by that was that I had not become heroic, masculine, a man different from what my mother wanted.” Nevertheless, Murra was able to cope with military life, make useful contributions, face battle, and win affection and respect, as Murra’s friend, fellow combatant, and journalist Harry Fisher (1911-2003) makes clear in Comrades (1998). Murra summarized his experiences by stating, “Yo soy graduado de la guerra civil española, no de la Universidad de Chicago” (Castro et al. 2000:29).13 It was during the Civil War 13 “I am a graduate of the Spanish Civil War, not of the -6 that he took his adult name and had his first adult experiences. Isak Lipschitz acquired the permanent nom de guerre John Victor Murra. John (or Johnny as he was known when he was young) was chosen for its qualities as a straightforward American name, Victor in anticipation of a successful struggle, and Murra because it is close to the Romanian word for mulberry. That was Johnny’s nickname when he was a boy, because of his large, dark eyes. At the time it was common for immigrants and travelers in the United States to adopt such strong and plain masculine names. For example, the famous French photographer, Henri CartierBresson, often called himself Hank Carter when in the U.S. Initially Murra arranged food and lodging in southern France for international volunteers seeking to infiltrate Spain. Soon he was translating for American, British, and Canadian commissars and for Slavic officers and soldiers. Then he was in active combat. He was seriously wounded and paralyzed for a time. The resulting limp stayed with him for the rest of his life. He spent most of the first half of 1939 in notorious French internment camps near Perpignan, but eventually managed to return to Chicago, assisted by his teachers there, arriving back in the United States on June 3, 1939 (Anon. 1947a). It was during his time translating that Murra became disillusioned with Communism, having had direct experience of the secret meetings, true policies, and extreme cruelty of its leaders. In this he was far ahead of his times because the Soviet Union itself did not fully acknowledge its own history until the 1980s. Although Murra did not set down specifics in his published works, Harry Fisher was more forthcoming in Comrades. In any event, by the end of the Spanish Civil War, John Murra’s political problems had worsened. University of Chicago” (translation by the author). 7Back in Chicago, Murra resumed his studies as a scholarship student,14 doing course work from 1939 to 1941. In addition to translating the Jesuit Relations, Murra worked as a waiter, a house painter, and a washer of archaeological ceramics to supplement his scholarships and keep body and soul together. In the summer of 1940 he had his first archaeological experience, at Cole’s Illinois field school. One of his contemporaries was Richard S. [Scotty] MacNeish, who later became famous for his studies of the transition to agriculture in the New World, leading archaeological projects in Mexico’s Tamaulipas State and in the Tehuacán Valley of Puebla state as well as in Peru’s Ayacucho Department. Murra often cited MacNeish’s work as offering support for his own ideas. Meanwhile, Romania had adopted a fascist constitution on February 12, 1938, making it impossible for Murra, a recent anti-fascist fighter, to return there. In addition, during the course of the Second World War, tens of thousands of Romanian Jews were massacred, although most survived. Murra’s mother and sister were among that majority. Romania did not become a Communist country until 1947 and, in any case, Murra was no longer an advocate of that form of government. His sister, however, joined the Communist party. Normally it would have been easy for Murra, as the spouse of an American, to have claimed United States citizenship. However, Murra’s Communist connections stood in his way even with the official sponsorship of Fay-Cooper Cole. Cole, in addition to being a well-known Chicago educator, was a member of a powerful New York family (Cooper family file, Brooklyn 14 Letter from Fay-Cooper Cole to Duran Ballen, Ecua2dorian Consul to the United States, August 8, 1941, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution, John Victor Murra Papers, hereinafter Murra, NAA. Barnes: John V. Murra Historical Society). Sponsorship was a serious commitment because it involved a guarantee of financial support should the immigrant become indigent. After being twice denied it, Murra was eventually granted American citizenship in 1950 (Anon. 1947b, 1947c, 1948b, 1948c, 1948d, 1948e, 1949a, 1949b, 1950a, 1950b) although the issuance of a passport was delayed until 1956 or 1958,15 preventing Murra from traveling to countries where that document was required. Murra’s case achieved national importance, having been brought to the attention of President Harry S. Truman’s Committee of Civil Rights, established in 1946 to strengthen and protect the civil rights of the American people. It was recommendations of this committee that led to the racial desegregation of the United States armed forces. Murra’s case was studied by the Committee because it was one of the first in which prior attachment to Communism was considered as a possible disqualification for citizenship. 15 Sources on the date of issue of Murra’s first passport vary. Heather Lechtman has a clear memory of Murra’s jubilation when he received notification of his passport while she was still a student at Vassar (Lechtman, personal communication, 12 November 2008). Lechtman graduated in 1956. In the interview Murra gave to John Rowe Murra states that he received his first passport in 1956 (Murra in Rowe 1984:639). However, in Nispa Ninchis (Castro et al. 2000:52-53) and in an interview given to Waldo Ansaldi and Fernando Calderón G. first published in 1989 and republished in 2000, Murra states that he received his first United States passport in 1958. A 1956 letter in the NAA from one of Murra’s attorneys advises Murra that he could expect a passport shortly. I have not been able to locate Murra’s first United States passport. The fact that he apparently did not travel to areas where a passport was required until 1958, coupled with Murra’s oft-expressed eagerness to return to South America, makes me think that Murra’s first United States passport was issued in 1958. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) ANTHROPOLOGY IN THE ANTI-FASCIST STRUGGLE - JOHN MURRA’S WAR WORK Ecuador Although Murra’s injuries precluded his enlistment in the United States military forces,16 he put his anthropological education to good use in war work. From August 28, 1941 through midFebruary 1942,17 he was in Ecuador, participating in survey and excavations officially directed by Fay-Cooper Cole with Donald Collier18 of the Field Museum serving as the Assistant Director in the field (Collier and Murra 1943:11). It is unclear if Cole ever visited Ecuador in connection with this project. Murra held the formal title of Supervisor. The work was 16 Letter from John V. Murra to Frances Jay, July 9, 1941, in the archives of the Institute of Andean Research, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History (hereinafter I.A.R., A.M.N.H.). It is possible that Nelson Rockefeller personally facilitated Murra’s draft exemption (letter from Donald Collier to John Victor Murra, June 5, 1941, Murra, NAA). 17 Anon. 1947a; Letter from Donald Collier to George C. Vaillant, February 5, 1942, I.A.R., A.M.N.H. 18 Donald Collier (1911-1995) received his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago (1954). Anthropological interests were shared by Collier family members. Donald’s father was United States Commissioner of Indian Affairs. His brother, John Collier, Jr. (1913-1992) was a noted photographer and visual anthropologist. In the 1950s John Collier was a member of the Cornell University Department of Anthropology. The Colliers’ brother-in-law, René D’Harnoncourt directed the Museum of Modern Art (1949-1967). D’Harnoncourt was an expert on Mexican art and ancient Peruvian textiles. Donald’s wife, Malcolm Carr Collier, published on the Navajo. Don Collier’s early archaeological and ethnological work was in the western United States. From 1936 he studied land use in the Andes and in 1937 worked with Julio C. Tello in the Casma Valley. His Ph.D. dissertation was produced as part of his participation in the Virú Valley Project. As a curator at the Field Museum Collier organized many important exhibitions. A short obituary of Collier by Donald Thompson along with a bibliography of Collier’s works appears in the 1996 volume of American Antiquity. -8 sponsored by the Institute of Andean Research (I.A.R.) At the time Nelson Rockefeller19 had arranged for the I.A.R. to receive its funding from the United States Department of State’s Council of National Defense, Division of Commercial and Cultural Relations.20 The work in Ecuador was part of a co-ordinated series of major sub-projects that were also staged in Mexico, El Salvador, Cuba, Colombia, Venezuela, Peru, and Chile. These were considered part of the national defense,21 the idea being both to put intelligent, if often inexperienced, observers into parts of Latin America suspected to be of interest to the Nazis, and to improve United States-Latin American relations. The Ecuador portion was designated “Project 9B–Ecuador–1941-42”. Because Murra’s United States citizenship application was pending22 and he did not have a passport as 19 Nelson Aldridge Rockefeller (1908-1979) was a president of the Museum of Modern Art (1939-1958), the forty-ninth governor of New York State (1959-1973), and the forty-fifth vice president of the United States (19741977). He was also a businessman and philanthropist. Rockefeller promoted economic development and liberalization, as well as North American culture, in Latin America, while holding important national appointed offices. He was Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs (1940-1944), Chairman of the Inter-American Development Commission (1940-1947), and Assistant Secretary of State for Latin American Affairs (1944-45). Rockefeller believed that by promoting United States culture he could counter perceived Fascist and Communist influences in the region. In the 1950s, under President Eisenhower, he supervised secret C.I.A. operations. 20 Letter from George C. Vaillant to Donald Collier, February 14, 1941, I.A.R., A.M.N.H.; Collier and Murra 1943:11). 21 Letter from Donald Collier to John Victor Murra, June 5, 1941, NAA; Letter from C.C. Miller, Registrar, University of Chicago to Selective Service Board Number 9, June 16, 1941, Murra, NAA. 22 Letter from Fay-Cooper Cole to Wendell C. Bennett, April 30, 1941, I.A.R, A.M.N.H. 9normally required for admission to Ecuador,23 he was issued a permit signed by Marshall E. Dimock, Special Assistant to the Attorney General in Charge, Immigration and Nationalization Service, United States Department of Justice, which provided permission for Murra to leave the United States and return within a year without loss of residence credit under exemptions provided by Section 307 of the Nationality Act of 1940.24 In effect, Murra was not to be penalized for leaving the United States to undertake work tied to the United States war effort. Collier hoped to determine the relationship of early archaeological material to the Inca Horizon in the southernmost part of Ecuador and the cultural connections, if any, to what is now northern Peru (Collier and Murra 1943: 15). However, by the time he and Murra arrived in Ecuador, Peruvian armed forces had invaded that country, and Collier’s first area of interest had fallen under military occupation. Collier and Murra adjusted their research plan to conduct reconnaissance in the southern part of Chimborazo Province, and in the provinces of Cañar, Azuay, and Loja in order to find stratified sites. This fit in well with the whole series of I.A.R. projects whose main goal was to create linked cultural sequences for prehispanic North and South America as a whole.25 Radiocarbon dating had not yet been developed, so the sequences were to be established through coordinated longitudinal surveys, stratified Barnes: John V. Murra excavations, and seriation of artifacts. The design of the projects assumed that the prehispanic cultures of the Americas were not isolates, but rather, interconnected, much as Nelson Rockefeller saw the American republics. It is stunning to contemplate the scope of the work that very small, and relatively inexperienced, teams set out to accomplish over vast territories in brief spans of time, especially by comparison with European-sponsored projects at important sites such as at Pompeii (Italy), Uruk (Iraq), Knossos (Crete), and Mucking (England) where large groups of specialists, workmen, and students established themselves for decades. At the start of their Ecuador project, Murra had never been in any Latin American country. Donald Collier described his own knowledge of Ecuador to be too “slight” to be able to give Murra any useful suggestions for preparation26 and Collier needed a translator to function. September 1941, Murra’s first full month in Ecuador, was spent in orientation, including establishing contacts with local colleagues, obtaining permissions, and acquiring equipment and supplies. In October he and Collier spent ten days (Collier and Murra 1943:16) or, perhaps, as much as two weeks at the Hacienda Zula in Chimborazo Province where they conducted test excavations on the four hundred square mile paramo ranch.27 That month they also photographed private archaeological collections in the town of Riobamba. They spent 23 Information provided by the Consulate General of Ecuador, New York, 1941, Murra, NAA. 26 Letter from John Victor Murra to United States Immigration Commission, July 10, 1941, Murra, NAA; letter from Marshall E. Dimock to Fay-Cooper Cole, July 16, 1941, Murra NAA; Letter from Fay-Cooper Cole to George C. Vaillant, July 18, 1941, I.A.R., A.M.N.H. “As to whom to make contacts with in Ecuador, what transportation and other conditions will be there, etc. I have no knowledge–but you can expect to do some traveling on mule back”; letter from Donald Collier to John Victor Murra, May 27, 1941, Murra, NAA. A photograph of Murra on muleback on the Ecuadorian paramo later became iconic. 25 27 24 Letter from George C. Vaillant to Paul Martin, March 14, 1941, I.A.R. A.M.N.H. Letter from Donald Collier to George C. Vaillant, October 22, 1941, I.A.R., A.M.N.H. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) November doing archaeological surveys of Cañar, Azuay, and Loja Provinces, recording about twenty sites. They visited Alausí and photographed private collections in Cuenca. During December they excavated at three sites near Cañar including Cerro Narrío (ibid.: 16-17). In January 1942 Murra went to Quito for analysis and write-up. Over forty thousand artifacts, mostly potsherds, were shipped to the Field Museum.28 Some of these were apparently shared with other museums. Although this schedule did not allow for detailed archaeological research, it did give Collier and Murra a good strategic overview of an important portion of the Ecuadorian highlands. Other Americans, for example Edwin Nelson Ferdon, were conducting archaeological operations in other parts of the country (Lubensky, Andean Past 8). In the field Collier and Murra were assisted by Aníbal Buitrón Chávez,29 then a 27-year-old Quito school teacher who received grants from the U. S. Department of State and the Institute of International Education to come to the United States for further training in anthropology during the 1942-43 academic year. Buitrón also worked with Don Collier’s brother, John Collier, Jr. to produce The Awakening Valley (1949), a photographic essay about Otavalo. Buitrón went on to a career in international development. Although Murra was disappointed that Buitrón did not persist with anthropology, Murra became convinced from his field-work in Ecuador that the education in anthropology of young Latin 28 Letter from Donald Collier to John Victor Murra, February 18, 1942, Murra, NAA; Letter from John Victor Murra to the Honorable Boaz Long, American Minister, Quito, April 2, 1942, Murra, NAA; Collier and Murra 1943:17. 29 An Archaeological Reconnaissance of the Southern Ecuadorian Highlands–Memorandum on the Institute of Andean Research Expedition in Ecuador, August 1941January 1942. Quito, January 9, 1942, Donald Collier and John V. Murra, Murra, NAA; Collier and Murra 1943:11. - 10 Americans was important. He never lost sight of that goal. Murra received his master’s degree from the University of Chicago in 1942 (Anon. 1942). During the last year of his master’s program he held the University Fellowship awarded to the highest-ranking member of the graduate student body.30 Fear and Courage under Fire During the latter part of 1942 and a portion of 1943 Murra continued his war work, this time under John Dollard31 of Yale’s Human Relations Institute who was himself employed by the United States Department of War. Murra’s task was to help interview and administer questionnaires to men who had fought with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade in the Spanish Civil War. The goal was to understand how men overcame their fear and developed courage in combat. A short, stand-alone report of the results, Fear in Battle, was published by the United States Army’s Infantry Journal in 1944. Nevertheless, the purportedly leftist slant of the questionnaires was later cited against Murra in his citizenship hearings (Anon. 1947b). In any case, the contacts which Murra maintained and forged across the country during this research made him pivotal to the corporate identity of American Spanish Civil War veterans. 30 Letter from Fay-Cooper Cole to the Honorable S.E. Duran Ballen, Consul General of Ecuador, August 8, 1941. Murra, NAA; press release, Vassar College Office of Public Relations, December 1959, John Victor Murra Faculty File, The Catherine Pelton Durrell ’25 Archives and Special Collections Library, Vassar College (hereafter the John Victor Murra File, Vassar College). 31 John Dollard (1900-1980), who received his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago (1931), was a psychologist and social scientist best known for his studies of race relations, especially in the American South. 11 Siamese Folk Tales and Cultural Values During the summer of 1943, Murra worked for the United States Department of War Information under the supervision of Ruth Benedict.32 Murra admired Benedict, whom he considered a true anthropologist, as opposed to Benedict’s friend and putative lover, Margaret Mead,33 whom Murra characterized as a “Sunday supplement anthropologist”. 34 However, Benedict’s death in 1948 precluded a long association. Murra interviewed Siamese (as they were then called) immigrants in the United States, collecting folk tales. The goal was to discern belief systems because understanding of these was deemed desirable in case the United States acquired responsibility for Siamese territory. 32 Ruth Benedict (1887-1948), a student of Franz Boas, received her Ph.D. in 1923 and joined the Columbia faculty with which she was associated until her death. One of her most famous students there was Margaret Mead (note 33). Benedict was part of the Culture-Personality school of anthropology, a movement heavily influenced by psychoanalysis. She is the author of Patterns of Culture (1934), a very important book of that school. In it, adapting a model taken from Friedrich Nietzsche, she argues that various cultures emphasize particular personality traits. She presented her most important wartime research as The Chrysanthemum and the Sword (1946), an exploration of traditional Japanese culture. 33 Margaret Mead (1901-1978) was one of the most famous anthropologists of all time. She produced a stream of books and articles for both academic and popular audiences beginning with interpretative accounts of her Polynesian field-work and continuing with observations on American popular culture. She is credited with broadening sexual mores and elucidating the interplay of culture and personality. She held a variety of teaching posts, and from 1946 to 1969 was Curator of Ethnology at the American Museum of Natural History. Several book length biographies of Mead, and of Mead and Benedict together, are available. 34 Letter from Laura Rand Orthwein to John Victor Murra, Murra, NAA (n.d., c. 1960). Barnes: John V. Murra Murra recognized that cunning and the ability to deceive others were valued in Siamese culture, at least as it manifested itself in stories. Therefore, captives, he advised, could not be shamed and broken down by calling them “traitors”. That would seem a form of praise. Teaching at the University of Chicago In the fall of 1943 Murra became an instructor in Anthropology at the University of Chicago to fill in for Fred Eggan, who was serving as Chief of Research for the Philippine Government in exile and was instructing United States Service personnel about the cultures of East Asia. Murra continued to teach in Chicago until 1946. From 1946 to 1947, he was a Fellow of the Social Sciences Research Council. In his Chicago teaching Murra maintained the legacy of A.R. Radcliffe-Brown by promoting what Murra perceived as a new anthropological paradigm developed in the 1920s and 30s by British and Commonwealth socio-cultural anthropologists led by Raymond Firth,35 Broni35 Sir Raymond Firth (1901-2002) was a New Zealandborn ethnologist who made distinctions between the ideal rules of behavior within societies (social structure) and actual behavior (social organization) and became an expert in the societies of the Pacific. He pioneered economic anthropology. His first degree was in economics from Auckland University College (1921) where he also earned an M.A. (1922) and a Diploma in Social Science (1923). His 1927 Ph.D. dissertation from the London School of Economics is entitled Primitive Economics of the New Zealand Maori. Among his other famous works are We the Tikopia (1936) based on field-work he did in the Solomon Islands in the late 1920s. Firth continued work with the Tikopia and published at least ten books based on his observations of their culture. Firth became a lecturer at the L.S.E. in 1933, was appointed Reader there in 1935, and succeeded Bronislaw Malinowski as Professor of Social Anthropology in 1944, remaining there in that position until 1968. After retirement from the L.S.E. he took up a number of distinguished visiting professorships, including one at Cornell University in 1970 and another at the University of Chicago in 1970-71. An obituary by Judith Huntsman appears in the American Anthropologist (2003). His wife, Rosemary Firth, was also a distinguished ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) slaw Malinowski36 and Radcliffe-Brown. This paradigm emphasized field-work in living cultures, especially those of Africa and Polynesia. It also advocated the study of state level societies, not just small, isolated groups (Murra in Calderón 2000:254; see also Ansaldi and Calderón 1989). THE CARIBBEAN Once the regular, tenured faculty completed their wartime assignments, Murra was out of a job and his life entered a new phase. He was not able to settle down for almost a decade. With his citizenship and passport issues unresolved, he was limited in his travels until 1958 when his first passport was issued. He worked as an instructor at the University of Wisconsin in the summer of 1946. From 1947 to 1950 he taught at the University of Puerto Rico, Río Piedras, first as an Assistant Professor and Field Director of Community Studies, and then as an Associate Professor and Field Director. Murra supervised studies of several communities with support from the Rockefeller Foundation and the University of - 12 Puerto Rico. From 1948 to 1949, working under the auspices of Julian Steward’s37 “Peoples of Puerto Rico Project” (1947-1950), Murra did ethnographic field-work in six communities on the island (Salomon 2007:793). In the summers Murra supervised field-work students from Yale and other United States mainland universities, working in Jamaica, and in Martinique in 1956 and 1957 under the auspices of “The Research and Training Program for the Study of Man in the Tropics”.38 During the 1950s, drawing upon this experience, Murra frequently published (Murra 1951a, 1955b, 1955d, 1955e, 1957a, 1957b, 1959a) and spoke (Gillespie 1950; Wakefield 1959) on Caribbean issues. DOCTORAL DISSERTATION Murra was, by this time, dedicated to anthropology. He knew that to continue in that field in a full professional capacity he would have to obtain a doctorate. Ecuador intrigued Murra, as did the struggles of peasant communities and issues of land tenure. Murra was aware that the Indians of Otavalo had freed themselves from serfdom by somehow acquiring the means to purchase the lands they worked. social anthropologist. 36 Bronislaw Kasper Malinowski (1884-1942), born Polish, became one of the most important anthropologists of the early twentieth century during his British-based career. He held a doctorate in mathematics and physical sciences from Jagiellonian University. He went on to study anthropology at Leipzig University and at the London School of Economics. He emphasized extensive field-work, conducted, in his case, in what is now Papua New Guinea, and among the Trobriand Islanders of the South Pacific. A pioneer of the participant-observer method which requires the anthropologist to take an active role in the society he is studying, Malinowski contributed to our understanding of non-Western economic systems such as the famous kula shell exchange ring. Among his works are The Sexual Life of Savages (1929), Argonauts of the Western Pacific (1922), Coral Gardens and their Magic (1935), Magic, Science, and Religion . . . (1948), A Diary in the Strict Sense of the Term (1961), and The Dynamics of Culture Change: An Inquiry into Race Relations in Africa (1967). There are many book length analyses of Malinowski’s life and work. 37 Julian H. Steward (1902-1972) held a B.Sc. in Zoology from Cornell University (1925). He obtained his doctorate from the University of California, Berkeley (1929). In addition to editing the influential Handbook of South American Indians (1946-1959), Steward conducted fieldwork in the American West and exerted considerable power as an administrator in both government and academe. He helped to develop the concept of cultural ecology. He held a variety of prestigious teaching positions. In his latter career he became interested in issues of modernization. His biography, Scenes from the High Desert: Julian Steward’s Life and Theory was published in 2003 by Virginia Kerns. 38 The Research Institute for the Study of Man (R.I.S.M.) was founded by Vera D. Rubin in 1955. Rubin and her colleagues brought the methodologies of the social sciences to the study of rapidly changing societies. The records of the R.I.S.M. are now in New York University’s Bobst Library. 13 There were other instances of indigenous communities liberating themselves in similar ways. Murra wished to return to Ecuador, base himself in Otavalo, and use the Otavaleño experience as his principal example, making shorter stays in other Andean communities to study comparable cases. However, Murra was concerned about growing older without a doctorate in hand and his passport problems dragged on. Murra had become interested in the Inca in 1939-40 when he took a course from Harry Hoijer on Andean civilizations (Murra 1956a:ii). As a graduate student he had presented term papers on Inca social structure and economics. He, therefore, decided to do a library dissertation on Tawantinsuyu,39 the Inca polity, working in the New York Public Library and incorporating only published evidence. Although Murra seems to have resented this restriction, his 1956 University of Chicago doctoral dissertation, The Economic Organization of the Inca State was immediately recognized as one of the most important works of synthesis ever written on Tawantinsuyu. Murra read and interpreted the chronicles of the early colonial Andes with a fresh perspective. Essentially he reconstructed the Inca economy, elucidating many features including modes of production, land tenure, labor arrangements, and the extraordinary value of cloth. In particular, he was able to determine that the Incas had a “redistributive” economy, reallocating the production of some segments of society for the benefit of others. In evaluating a depiction of the Inca by another scholar, Murra sometimes asked the question, “Does it go Barnes: John V. Murra beyond William H. Prescott’s 1847 History of the Conquest of Peru?” It is clear that in his own work, Murra did progress beyond that classic. Readers of The Economic Organization of the Inca State have noted that Murra’s analytic framework seems to owe something to that of Karl Polanyi’s40 studies of non-market economies (c.f. Van Buren in American Anthropologist 98[2] 1996; Wachtel 1973) who was at Columbia University when Murra was writing his dissertation. Polanyi, Conrad M. Arensberg, and Henry W. Pearson had not yet published Trade and Market in the Early Empires (1957) but they, and their students, were laying the groundwork for that book in a seminar that Polanyi and Arensberg41 taught in the early-tomid 1950s. In the acknowledgments section of his dissertation Murra states that he attended “half a dozen” meetings of this seminar in 1953- 40 Karl Polanyi (1886-1964) was an economic journalist and theorist, a democratic socialist, and the founder of Substantialism, a school of thought which emphasizes the imbeddedness of economics in the rest of culture. He obtained a doctor of laws degree from the University of Budapest (1908) and was called to the Budapest bar in 1912. Polanyi also studied at the University of Kolosvar in Romania. After World War I he was forced to flee from Hungary for political reasons. He worked as a newspaper man in Vienna from 1924 to 1937. The development of Austrian Fascism forced him to flee once more, first to London, then to North America. He taught at Bennington College (1940-1943) and Columbia University (1947-1953), remaining at Columbia as a researcher after his formal retirement. His 1944 book, The Great Transformation, an exploration of the emergence of modern capitalist economies brought him worldwide fame. In 1957 he published Trade and Market in Early Empires. 41 39 The earliest known recorded use of a term similar to Tawantinsuyu, Taguansuyu, was made in 1577 in a memorial presented to the Viceroy don Francisco de Toledo. In this context it designated the social and physical divisions of Cusco, which were projected outwards to encompass territory within 55 kilometers of that city. This document was published by Waldimar Espinoza Soriano in the Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines (1977). Conrad Maynadier Arensberg (1910-1997) studied complex societies from an anthropological perspective and was well-known for his research in Ireland and in New England. He was educated at Harvard College, obtaining both an A.B. (1931) and a Ph.D from that institution (1934). Arensberg taught at M.I.T., Brooklyn College, Barnard College, and Columbia University. An obituary of Arensberg by Lambros Comitas was published in the American Anthropologist (2000). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 54 and notes that he found Polanyi’s studies of redistributive systems stimulating (Murra 1956a: iv). However, in Nispa Ninchis, a long interview of Murra conducted in 1993 and published in 2000, Murra explicitly denies the influence of Polanyi, except for supplying the term “redistribution”, and provides an alternate chronology, saying that he heard talks by Polanyi when he, Murra, was working at the U.N., that is in 1951, (Castro et al. 2000:93; Murra 1951b, 1951c, 1951d, 195e, 1951f, 1951g) and that he attended two of Polanyi’s seminars after he had finished his dissertation, that is, after 1955 or 1956 (ibid.; see also Murra 1981b). Polanyi, Arensberg, and Pearson, for their part, in the Preface to Trade and Market in the Early Empires acknowledge Murra as among those who have contributed “ideas and ideals; moral, intellectual, and technical assistance”(p. xi). Murra was probably also influenced by Helen Codere’s42 now-classic book on the Kwakwaka’wakw (Kwakuitl) potlatch, Fighting with Property (1950) in which she noted that the potlatch had “distributing and redistributing functions not however properly called trade” (p. 20). Nevertheless, the detailed synthesis in Murra’s dissertation of many early sources on the Inca is certainly his own, and his inferences about Inca economic practices follow logically from that synthesis. For many years Murra continued to develop the ideas presented in his dissertation and they form the cores of his early articles on 42 Helen Codere (b.1917) earned a B.A. from the University of Minnesota (1939), and a Ph.D. from Columbia University (1950). She taught at Columbia and at the University of Minnesota, joining the Vassar faculty in 1946. In 1954, on leave from Vassar, she was a visiting Professor at the University of British Columbia. In 1958 she was promoted to the rank of Professor. After leaving Vassar she became a dean at Brandeis and is now Professor Emeritus there. Her geographical areas of interest include the Northwest Coast of North America, Iceland, and Africa, especially Rwanda. She is the author of Fighting with Property: A Study of Kwakiutl Potlatching and Warfare 17921930 (1950) and Biography of an African Society: Rwanda 1900-1960 . . . (1973). - 14 Andean cultures. Murra remained a materialist and a leftist, although he was no longer a Marxist. The value of studies of non-market economies was confirmed in 2009 with the award of the Nobel Peace Prize to Elinor Ostrom for her work on the cooperative management of shared resources such as fisheries(see Science 16 October 2009, p. 374). FRIENDS AND FAMILY In 1940 Murra and Virginia Miller divorced.43 In February 1946 he married Elizabeth Ann “Tommy” Sawyer. That marriage ended formally in a Mexican divorce in 1958. In 1959 Murra met and formed a romantic association with one of his freshman Vassar students, the strikingly beautiful debutante Laura Rand Orthwein.44 Laura, wishing to free herself of a patronymic, adopted part of Murra’s nom de guerre, legally becoming Laura Murra from 1963. By the late 1960s she had assumed the name Laura X. As Laura X she became a well-known feminist writer, editor, and human rights and anti-Vietnam War activist. In 1968 she founded the Women’s History Research Center in her Berkeley, California home. The Center developed an outstanding collection of feminist ephemera. She is now once again known as Laura Rand Orthwein and is a major philanthropist in her native St. Louis. In his diaries Murra referred to Laura as “Lilac”. Sometimes he called her his third wife. In his latter years Murra’s trusted friend was Judith Willis, whom he met when she was a secretary at Cornell. 43 Letter from Elizabeth Ann “Tommy” Sawyer Murra to Henry Heineman, July 30, 1948, Murra NAA. 44 Laura Rand Orthwein, personal communication, 4 January, 2009; see also letters from Orthwein to Murra and from Murra to Orthwein, and photographs of Orthwein, Murra NAA. 15 Although Murra never formed a nuclear family of procreation, he filled this gap with many close and life-long friendships with people including former students who became colleagues, such as Rolena Adorno, Jorge Hidalgo,45 Heather Lechtman (see Lechtman’s essay, this volume, pp. 66-68), Ann Peters,46 Roger Rasnake47 and his wife Inge Harman (see Harman’s essay, this volume, pp. 80-82), Frank Salomon (see Salomon’s essay, this volume, pp. 87-102),48 45 Jorge Hidalgo Lehuedé (b. 1942) is a Chilean historian with an anthropological and international perspective. He holds a doctorate from the University of London and is Dean of the Faculty of Philosophy and Humanites of the Universidad de Chile (Santiago). His works emphasize the role of indigenous communities, especially of the desertic north, in his reconstructions of Chilean colonial history. A close colleague of John Murra, Hidalgo is the author of Historia andina en Chile (2004), a collection of essays, and an editor of Nispa ninchis/decimos diciendo: Conversaciones con John Murra (with Victoria Castro and Carlos Aldunate, 2000). 46 Ann Hudson Peters (b. 1955) holds a bachelor’s degree in fine arts from Yale University (1979). While studying in Lima on a traveling fellowship she attended a lecture by John Murra and, inspired by that experience, went to Cornell University to obtain her M.A. (1983) and Ph.D. (1997). Her dissertation is entitled Paracas, Topará, and Early Nasca: Ethnicity and Society on the South Central Andean Coast. She has conducted field research in Peru’s Pisco Valley and in Northern Chile and archival work with the materials left by Julio C. Tello. She is the author of important articles on ancient Andean textiles. 47 Roger Neil Rasnake (b. 1951) received his doctorate in anthropology from Cornell University (1982). He has done field-work and ethnohistorical research pertinent to the Yura, a Quechua-speaking ethnic group of Bolivia. He is the author of Domination and Cultural Resistance: Authority and Power Among an Andean People (1988) which emphasizes the expression of authority through the fiesta system. He is an expert in cross-cultural and international education. 48 Frank Salomon (b. 1946) is the John V. Murra Professor of Anthropology at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Among his notable publications are Native Lords of Quito in the Age of the Incas (1986), The Huarochirí Manuscript: A Testament of Ancient and Colonial Andean Religion (with Barnes: John V. Murra Peruvian anthropologist, poet, and novelist José María Arguedas, as well as anthropologists and historians including Carlos Sempat Assadourian,49 Gonzalo Aguirre Beltrán,50 Ruth Benedict, Wendell Bennett,51 Thérèse BouysseGeorge Urioste, 1991), Los Yumbos, Niguas, y Tsatchila o “Colorados” durante la colonia española: Etnohistoria del Noroccidente de Pichincha (1997), and The Cord Keepers: Khipu and Cultural Life in a Peruvian Village (2004). With Stewart Schwartz he is the editor of the Cambridge History of the Native Peoples of the Americas: South America (Prehistory and Conquest) (1999). 49 Carlos Sempat Assadourian was an Argentinian economic historian who taught in Mexico for many years. Among his works are El Tráfico de esclavos en Córdova argentina, 1588-1610 . . . (1965), De la conquista a la independencia (with Guillermo Beato and José C. Chiaramonte, 1972), El sistema de la economía colonial: Mercado interno, regiones y espacio económico (1982), and Transiciones hasta el sistema colonial andino (1994). 50 Gonzalo Aguirre Beltrán (1908-1996) held various positions in Mexico during the mid-20th century, including the Mexican sub-secretariate of education, the directorship of the Instituto Indigenista Interamericano, and the editorship of América Indígena. Under American Anthropological Association auspices and with support from the Wenner Gren and Ford Foundations, he and John Murra organized two international conferences on the relationships between research and anthropological training in the Americas. The 1967 conference was held in Austria at Burg Wartenstein, the Wenner-Gren Foundation European Conference Center from 1958 to 1980, and the 1968 one was held in Mexico (John Victor Murra c.v. Murra, NAA). Aguirre Beltrán contributed greatly to our understanding of the development of anthropology in Mexico. He is the author of numerous works including Formas de gobierno indígena (1953), Aguirre Beltrán: Obra polémica (1976), Antropología medica (1986, 1994), and Crítica antropológica (1990). 51 Wendell [Wendy] C. Bennett (1905-1953) held Ph.B. (1927), M.A. (1929) and Ph.D. (1930) degrees from the University of Chicago. His dissertation is a comparative study of Polynesian religious structures. In the early 1930s Bennett worked with Robert M. Zingg among Tarahumara Indians of northern Mexico. From this project he formulated an understanding that archaeology and ethnology should be done in tandem when possible. In 1931 he joined the American Museum of Natural History as ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Cassagne52, Jesús Contreras Hernándes,53 Éric de Dampierre,54 Pierre Duviols,55 Gordon D. Assistant Curator of Ethnology and continued a program of research in Andean archaeology established by his predecessor, Ronald L. Olsen. Bennett made many major field trips to the Andes during the 1930s and .40s, excavating at Tiwanaku and Chiripa, in Bolivia, and in the Virú and Lambeyeque Valleys, and at the sites of Chavín and Wari in Peru. He also excavated in Venezuela, Colombia, and Ecuador. In 1938, after holding a post at the Bishop Museum in Hawaii, he became an Associate Professor at the University of Wisconsin and in 1940 moved to Yale. A short obituary of Bennett by Irving Rouse appears in American Antiquity (1954). Another by Alfred Kidder II, and a poem dedicated to Bennett by Eugene Davidson were published in the American Anthropologist (1954). 52 Thérèse Bouysse-Cassagne is a historian and a Director of Research at the Sorbonne and a member of the Institut Français d’ Études Andines. She has contributed to our understanding of the indigenous and Mestizo cultures of Lake Titicaca, especially in terms of religious syncretism. She is the author of La identidad Aymara: Aproximación histórica, siglos XV-XVI (1987), Lluvias y cenizas: Dos pachacuti en la historia (1999) and has edited Saberes y memorias en los Andes (1997) in memory of Thierry Saignes (see note 66). She is also, with Tristan Platt and Olivia Harris, an author of Qaraqara–Charka: Mallku, inka y rey en la “Provincia de Charcas”, siglos XV-XVII; Historia antropológica de una confederación aymara (2006). 53 Jesús Contreras Hernándes (b. 1946) is a Spanish historian. He is the author of Subsistencia, ritual y poder en los Andes (1985), Identidad étnica y movimientos indios: La cara india, la cruz de 92 (1988), Los retos de la inmigración: Racismo y pluriculturalidad (1994), and La gestión comunal de recursos: Economía y poder en los sociedades locales de España y de América Latina (with Marie-Noëlle Chamoux, 1996), among other works. 54 Éric de Dampierre (1928-1998) was one of the most important French sociologists of the generation after the Second World War and the founder of the Maison RenéGinouvès de l’Archéologie et Ethnologie, part of the Université de Paris and supported by the Centre Nacional de Recherche Scientifique. He conducted field research in Central Africa. He was deeply influenced by the two years he spent at the University of Chicago as a member of the Committee on Social Thought. 55 Pierre Duviols is a Professor at the Université de Provence and Director of Studies at the École Practique des - 16 Hadden,56 Olivia Harris,57 John Hyslop (Murra 1994a), Agustín Llagostera,58 José Matos Mar,59 Hautes Études. In 1993-94 he was a scholar at The Getty Center. He takes an interdisciplinary approach to his research, combining anthropology and history in the study of Andean religious culture. His books include Dioses y hombres de Huarochirí (with José María Arguedas, 1966), La lutte contre les religions autochthones du Pérou colonial: L’extirpation de l’idolâtrie entre 1535 et 1660 (1971), and Procesos y Visitas de Idolatrías: Cajatambo, siglo XVII (2003). 56 Gordon D. Hadden (b. 1932) was a curator at what is now the Science Museum of Minnesota. After working at Húanuco with John Murra and assisting in the reconstruction there, in 1967 Hadden participated in the reconstruction of the Ecuadorian Inca site of Ingapirca. 57 Olivia Harris (1943-2009) studied anthropology at the London School of Economics. At the time of her death she was a Professor at that institution. Previously she taught at the University of London’s Goldsmith College where she co-founded the Anthropology Department. Her main research area was highland Bolivia. She explored issues of gender, households, kinship, feminist theory, law, economic anthropology, symbolism and ritual, as well as the nature of historical time and change. She was the author of To Make the Earth Bear Fruit: Essays on Fertility, Work, and Gender in Highland Bolivia (2000). See note 52 for another of her major published works. 58 Augustín Llagostera Martínez obtained an undergraduate degree in biology from the Universidad de Chile (1967), studied archaeology at the Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cusco (1973), and obtained his doctorate in anthropology from the Centro de Investigaciones y Estudios Superiores en Antropología, Mexico (1984). He is now retired from the Instituto de Investigación Arqueológico and the museum in San Pedro de Atacama. He is a specialist in the early cultures of Chile. His published works include his doctoral dissertation Formaciones pescadoras prehispánicas en la costa del Desierto de Atacama (1984). 59 José Matos Mar (b. 1921) was born in Coracora, Ayacucho. He studied at the École Practique des Hautes Études de la Université de Paris and the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos (Lima) where he obtained a doctorate in anthropology (1958). He was Chairman of the San Marcos Anthropology Department from 1950 to 1969 and Director of the Instituto de Estudios Peruanos 17 Craig Morris (Lynch and Barnes, Andean Past 8), Sidney Mintz,60 Antoinette Molinié,61 Pierre Morlon,62 Franklin Pease,63 Tristan Platt,64 from 1964 to 1984, as well as the Director of the Instituto Indigenista Interamericano in Mexico City from 1989 to 1995. He was one of Peruvian President Alan Garcia’s advisors during his first term (1985-1989) and has held a number of important posts in his adopted Mexico. Matos Mar has published more than twenty books including Perú problema (1969), Desborde popular y crisis de estado (1984), Población y grupos étnicos de América (1994). 60 Sidney Wilfred Mintz (b. 1922), a student of Julian Steward and Ruth Benedict at Columbia, is an American anthropologist known both for field-work in the Caribbean and for historical research on the global commercial roots of agro-industrial rural society. He taught at Yale (1951-74) and then helped found the Anthropology Department at Johns Hopkins. He is the author of Caribbean Transformations (1974), An Anthropological Approach to the AfroAmerican Past (with Richard Price, 1976), and Sweetness and Power: the Place of Sugar in Modern History (1985), among many other works. 61 Antoinette Molinié (b. 1946) is Research Director at the Maison René-Ginouvès de l’Archéologie et Ethnologie. She specializes in the study of traditional Andean societies. She has conducted field-work in the Cusco region, in the Chancay Valley, and at Ambana in Bolivia. Currently she works in Andalucia where she applies Freudian psychology to the analysis of culture. Among her published works are La vallée sacrée des Andes (1982), Mémoire de la tradition (with Aurore Becquelin, 1993), Le corps de Dieu en fêtes (1996), and Les néo-Indiens: Une religion du IIIe millénaire (with Jacques Galinier, 2006). 62 Pierre Morlon (b. 1948) is an agronomist at the Institut Nacional de la Recherche Agronomique, France who has conducted research in Senegal, Peru, and France. His varied interests include solar energy, the archaeology of households, and adult literacy in indigenous languages. He is the editor of Comprendre l’agriculture paysanne dans les andes centrales (1992) and the author of La troublante histoire de la jachère: Pratiques des cultivateurs, concepts de lettrés et enjeux sociaux, with F. Sigaut, 2008). 63 Franklin Pease García Yrigoyen (1939-1999) was a Peruvian historian born into a privileged background. He was educated at the Universidad Pontificia Católica del Perú in history and law. An obituary of Franklin Pease by Noble David Cook appears in the Hispanic American Barnes: John V. Murra Ruggero Romano,65 Thierry Saignes,66 AnaMaría Soldi,67 and Enriqueta Vila Vilar68. Also Historical Review (2000). Pease published general histories of Peru and editions of important chroniclers. 64 Tristan Platt (b. 1944), the director of the Centre for Amerindian Studies and a Reader at the University of St. Andrews, Fife, Scotland, is an interdisciplinarian who has done extensive ethnographic, enthnohistorical, and sociolinguistic work in Andean countries, especially Bolivia. He has lived with the Macha Ayllu in northern Potosí and has published on peasants and markets, economic space, state and society, mining, shamanism, and methods of childbirth, among other broad and varied topics. See note 52 for one of his major recent works. 65 Ruggero Romano (1923-2002) was, for many years, Director of Studies at the École d’Études des Sciences Sociales and was a member of the Annales school of history which elucidates the social and economic life of the past through statistics and everyday documents. He studied the European and Latin American economies from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century. Among his published works is Conjonctures opposées: La ?Crise” du XVIIe siècle en Europe et en Amerique ibérique (1992). 66 Thierry Saignes was a French historian who concentrated on the Andes. Among his works are Los Andes orientales: Historia de un olvido (1985). 67 AnaMaría Soldi (1919-2009) studied chemistry at the Università di Genoa. A long time resident at the Ocucaje vineyard in the Ica Valley, Peru, she developed a deep knowledge of the archaeology of Peru’s South Coast. She published Chacras excavadas en el desierto (1979) on the prehistoric system of sunken field agriculture and edited Tecnología en el mundo andino (with Heather Lechtman, 1981). Soldi was a steadfast colleague of Lechtman, Craig Morris, Murra, and María Rostworowski, and, for more than fifty years, of many other scholars of the Andean region. 68 Enriqueta Vila Vilar obtained a doctorate from the Universidad de Sevilla (1972). She is a research professor of the Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas at the Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos, Seville. She has concentrated on colonial Spanish America. Among her works are a series of publications of letters from the cabildos of Guatemala, Mexico, and Panama and Aspectos sociales en América colonial: De extranjeros, contrabando, y esclavos (2001). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) among Murra’s close friends were his fellow Spanish Civil War veterans Harry Fischer and anthropologists Ángel Palerm,69 and Elman R. Service.70 Murra preserved numerous letters to and from these scholars and others. The bulk are in the Smithsonian Institution’s National Anthropological Archives, while others are in the Anthropology Division of the American Museum of Natural History, and in private hands. These letters are important not only in 69 Ángel Palerm (1917-1980) arrived in Mexico in 1939. There he studied, and worked as a field assistant for archaeologist and I.A.R. member Isabel Truesdale Kelly and became her co-author. He worked for the Pan-American Union/Organization of American States in Washington, D.C. in their publications program. After leaving the O.A.S. he spent a year in Peru. He returned to Mexico where he became a professor at the Escuela Nacional de Antropología e Historia and the Universidad Iberoamericana where he founded the Anthropology Department. He founded the Centro de Investigaciones Superiores at Mexico’s Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Historia (now the Centro de Investigación de Estudios Superiores de Antropología Social), as well as the Anthropology Departments of the Universidad Autónoma Ixtapalapa and the Colegio de Michoacán. His major works on prehispanic irrigation civilizations including Obras hidráulicas prehispánicas en el sistema lacustre del Valle de México (1973) are still frequently cited. Among his other notable works are Antropología y marxismo (1980) and Historia de la etnología: Los precursores (1973). In many ways Palerm personified Murra’s ideal of an anthropologist who followed Marx’s advice in founding institutions to insure the continuance of the discipline. 70 Elman R. Service (1915-1996) graduated from the University of Michigan. He earned his Ph.D. at Columbia University (1951) and taught there until 1953. He taught at Michigan from 1953 until 1969 and at the University of California, Santa Barbara from 1969 until retirement in 1985. Service’s research included Latin American Indian ethnology, cultural evolution, and method and theory. He developed theories on social systems and the rise of the state. Among his books are Spanish-Guarani Relations in Early Colonial Paraguay (1954), Tobati: Paraguayan Town (with Helen S. Service, 1954), A Profile of Primitive Culture (1958), Profiles in Ethnology (1963), Cultural Evolutionism: Theory in Practice (1971), Origins of the State and Civilization: The Process of Cultural Evolution (1975), and A Century of Controversy: Ethnological Issues from 1860 to 1960 (1985). - 18 terms of Murra’s life and thought, but also for those of the many well-known anthropologists who were in communication with Murra over a span of some seventy years. VASSAR COLLEGE YEARS Murra left Puerto Rico and worked as a lecturer at Brooklyn College during the 1949-50 academic year. In 1950 Murra was hired as a lecturer in anthropology by Vassar College, then an academically and socially exclusive institution emphasizing the liberal arts education of undergraduate women. Murra was to fill in for Dorothy Lee who was on leave.71 In the Department of Economics, Sociology, and Anthropology he first taught general courses that had already been established. Murra’s intellectual interests made him a good fit in a department dominated by economics. Likewise, time spent during the early 1950s in close contact with an economics faculty probably helped to shape the orientation of Murra’s dissertation which he was preparing at the time. Murra’s Vassar courses included the intermediate level “Cultural Anthropology”, that he co-taught at first with Helen Codere. This is described in the 1950-1951 catalogue number of the Bulletin of Vassar College as “a study of primitive social groups. The nature of culture. 71 Dorothy Demedracapoulou Lee (1906-1975), a Greek immigrant to the United States, graduated from Vassar College (1927). She taught there from 1939 until 1953 when she left to teach at the Merrill Parker School in Detroit which she helped to found, and where she remained until 1959. At Harvard from 1959 to 1961, she helped to establish the Freshman Seminar Program. She was married to Vassar philosophy professor Otis Hamilton Lee. A member of the Culture-Personality school of anthropology, she specialized in the cultures of American Indians and in issues concerning women, education, and family life, as well as in Greek folklore. She is the author of Freedom and Culture (1959), a collection of her essays. For an obituary see the April 20, 1975 issue of The New York Times. 19 Social and economic aspects of subsistence, kinship, and marriage.” Murra also taught advanced courses including “Language, Myth, and Society”, which explored “concepts and values as reflected in the language and mythology of different primitive groups. Relative status of animistic and mechanistic attitudes, magic and science, knowledge and belief” (ibid.). Murra was sometimes responsible for another advanced course, “Primitive Society” which included “Discussion of different approaches to the study of society. An intensive study of certain societies with a view to discovering their basic values and their relation to our own society” (ibid). “Cultural Dynamics”, the only course mentioned in the catalogue which specifically dealt with ancient Peru, was taught by Helen Codere, until the 1955-56 academic year when Murra taught it. In a c.v. prepared in the late 1960s Murra stated that he taught an Inca course at Vassar (c.v. Murra, NAA). Perhaps he is referring to “Cultural Dynamics”. During six months of 1951 Murra worked as a United Nations Economic Affairs Officer and Africa Area Specialist in the Trusteeship Division, helping to resolve issues of African land tenure and decolonization. Although he had never been to that continent, he at least had the advantage of being untainted by colonial involvements. Also in 1951 he was employed as a consultant by Stringfellow Barr’s72 Foundation for World Government. His time at the U.N. proved to be another pivotal experience. In the 72 Stringfellow Barr (1897-1982) was a historian and president of St. John’s College, Annapolis, Maryland, and founder and President (1948-1958) of the Foundation for World Government, as well as a developer of the Great Books Curriculum. He was an editor of the Virginia Quarterly Review (1931-1937). Among his books are The Will of Zeus . . . (1961) and The Mask of Jove . . . (1966), studies of ancient Greek and Roman culture, and, with Stella Standard, The Kitchen Garden Book . . ., a guide to growing and cooking vegetables. He also published a novel, Purely Academic (1958). Barr advocated tolerance of Communism. Barnes: John V. Murra U.N.’s early years it had very high levels of popular and international governmental support. Many prominent Africans and AfroAmericans worked on U.N. sponsored projects and Murra had the opportunity to come to know some of them personally, including his supervisor, Ralph Bunche. 73 Murra’s commitment to improved civil rights for AfroAmericans enhanced his interest in their ancestral homelands. As with his field-work in Ecuador, Murra took a brief practical experience, combined it with the anthropology courses he had taken from Radcliffe-Brown in Chicago in 1935 and 1936 and his own prodigious reading in multiple languages, and began to present himself as an expert, in this case on African affairs.74 For a while Murra maintained his active interest in the Caribbean. In the summer of 1953, accompanied by Tommy Sawyer Murra, he worked for Sidney Mintz and Yale University in Jamaica. After their work was completed the Murras went to Cuba (intending to visit Ernest Hemingway who proved to be off the island) and on to Yucatan to visit Maya sites, and then to Mexico City to visit Ángel Palerm (Castro et al. 2000:42-43). This was Murra’s first trip to 73 Ralph Johnson Bunche (1903-1971) was an AfroAmerican Marxist political scientist, educator, and diplomat and a holder of the Nobel Peace Prize for his mediation in Palestine, as well as a recipient of the presidential Medal of Freedom. He helped to found and administer the United Nations and was active in the cause of Afro-American civil rights. Bunche earned a B.A. from the University of California Los Angeles (1927), and a master’s degree(1928) and doctorate (1934) from Harvard. Bunche chaired the department of political science at Howard University (1928-1950), taught at Harvard (1950-1952), and was a member of the New York City Board of Education (1958-1964). 74 Anon. 1951b, 1951c, 1951d, 1951e, 1951f, 1951g, 1954b, 1956c, 1957b, 1960a, 1961b, 1961c, 1961e; Murra 1951b, 1951c, 1951d, 1951e, 1951f, 1951g, 1954a, 1955a, 1955c, 1955g, 1955h, 1956b. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Mexico. At that time it was possible for United States citizens to go to that country without a passport. Murra returned to teaching at Vassar in 1954. Around this time he began to collaborate with Vassar professor, David Lowenthal, and other members of the geography, economics, anthropology, sociology, history, and political science faculty in teaching Geography 208, an interdepartmental area study course focusing on the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. This course was offered in the spring of 1953, and in the 1953-1954, and 1954-1955 academic years according to various catalogue numbers of the Bulletin of Vassar College.75 During the 1956-57 academic year, Murra initiated a course at Vassar on “The African Heritage”, described in that year’s catalogue as “A survey of a series of African cultures south of the Sahara; their history, characteristic social structures and value systems; the transfer of African institutions and arts to the New World and the changes they have undergone in Brazil, the Caribbean and the United States.” Murra had previously taught a course on Africa in Chicago in 1944 (Murra in Rowe 1984:841) and it was in that context that he met Tommy Sawyer. This course became the basis for other courses on Africa that Murra taught at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos (Lima), at the Universidad de Puerto Rico, and at the Université de Paris, at Columbia University, and at the New School for Social Research (Murra in Rowe 1984:641). Africa interested Murra in part because he believed that early twentieth century field studies of that continent’s native kingdoms that had not been 75 According to Lowenthal’s recollection, his collaboration with Murra began in January, 1953 (David Lowenthal, personal communication to Heather Lechtman, 11 June 2009). However, this chronology conflicts with c.v.’s Murra prepared in the 1960s (see note 86). - 20 overthrown until the late nineteenth century reflected a pre-European, pre-Capitalist, and preliterate past (Murra in Rowe 1984:641). However, the extensive international slave trade had enmeshed African societies with European, Islamic, and American colonial economies for centuries. The version of this course that Murra presented at Vassar suggested Africa as a possible home of the human species, and surveyed the ecology, languages, and biology of that continent. Topics included East and South African pastoralism, the lineage, age sets and their meaning for political organization among the Masai, Nuer, Nyakyusa, and Zulu, as well as state formation in East and South Africa as found among the Nuer, Ankole, Ganda, Rwanda, Garotse, and Zulu peoples. The matrilineal belt of Central Africa was discussed with the Mayombe-Kongo, Bemla, and Ila cultures as exemplars. European settlement and its consequences in East and Central Africa was another broad topic covered using the work of Godfrey Wilson,76 Monica Hunter Wilson,77 76 Godfrey Wilson (1908-1944) was a British social anthropologist who studied change in Africa. He received a degree in classics from Oxford University (1931). He studied under Bronislaw Malinowski at the London School of Economics and married Monica Hunter (note 77). In Tanganyika he worked with the NyakyusaNgonde. He was the first director of the Rhodes-Livingstone Institute, an anthropological institution in what was then Northern Rhodesia. With Hunter he wrote The Analysis of Social Change Based on Observations in Central Africa (1945). He served in the South African Medical Corps during World War II and committed suicide while on active service. 77 Monica Hunter Wilson (1908-1982) was a South African social anthropologist who conducted field-work among the Pondo, a Xhosa group. She spoke Xhosa since childhood and was, for many years Professor of Social Anthropology at the University of Capetown. Monica Wilson and her husband Godfrey Wilson were members of Malinowski’s seminar at the London School of Economics. Her major work is Reaction to Conquest (1936). She is 21 Peter Abrahams,78 Julius Lewin,79 and Ellen Hellmann80 as sources. African law and litigation Barnes: John V. Murra as seen by Max Gluckman,81 A. L. Epstein,82 J. B. Danquah,83 81 Peter Abrahams (b. 1919) is a South African novelist. His books include Mine Boy (1946), Tell Freedom (1954), and The View from Coyaba (1985), among others. Max Gluckman (1911-1975) was a South African born British social anthropologist who had been a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford University. He was the second director of the Rhodes-Livingstone Institute (after Godfrey Wilson, see note 76) and the first Professor of Social Anthropology at the University of Manchester. He founded the Manchester School of anthropology which emphasized case studies. He is the author of Custom and Conflict (1955), African Traditional Law in Historical Perspective (1974), and Economy of the Central Barotse Plain (1968), among other work. He was a Structural-Functionalist, a Marxist, and active in the African independence struggle. 79 82 also the author of The Analysis of Social Change, Communal Rituals among the Nyakyusa (1959), Langa: A Study of Social Groups in an African Township (with Archie Mafeje, 1963), and the editor of The Oxford History of South Africa (with Leonard Monteith Thompson, 1969). 78 Julius Lewin was a lawyer and Senior Lecturer in Native Law and Administration at the University of Witwatersrand. He was a liberal Jewish opponent of the South African apartheid regime. He is the author of various books and pamphlets on race relations and inequality in Africa including The Colour Bar in the Copper Belt (1941), Studies in African Native Law (1947), Politics and Law in South Africa: Essays on Race Relations (1963), and The Struggle for Racial Equality (1967). Like Murra, Lewin wrote for The Nation. 80 Ellen Hellmann (1908-1982) was the first woman to obtain a D.Phil. from the University of Witwatersrand (1940). Her thesis is entitled Early School Leaving Among African School Children and the Occupational Opportunities Open to the African Juveniles. She was a Zionist-Socialist and the author of numerous studies of race relations in South Africa including Rooiyard: A Sociological Study of an Urban Native Slum Yard (1948) based on field-work conducted in Johannesburg, South Africa in 1933, Handbook of Race Relations in South Africa (with Leah Abrahams, 1949), The Application of the Concept of Separate Development to Urban Areas (1961), The Impact of City Life on Africans (1963), and Conflict and Progress: Fifty Years of Race Relations in South Africa . . . (with Henry Lever, 1979). She realized the importance of combining diachronic studies with functionalism in order to understand migrant communities. Arnold Leonard (Bill) Epstein (1924-1999) was a Jewish-British anthropologist who worked in Africa, particularly in the copper belt of what is now Zambia, as well as in Melanesia. Educated first in the law, he obtained a doctorate from the University of Manchester. Early in his career he was a Functionalist, but later he began to appreciate the role of individual emotions and representations. He was a member of the Manchester School of anthropology (see note 81) and, from 1950 to 1955 he was associated with the Rhodes-Livingstone Institute. He studied issues of urban and rural life, law courts, trade unionism, black-white relations, and mining. He is the editor of The Craft of Social Anthropology (1967). His book, Mantupit: Land, Politics and Change among the Tolai of New Britain (1967) was a result of his Melanesian field-work. An interview of Epstein is in Current Anthropology (1997) and an obituary by Moshe Shokeid appears in the American Anthropologist (2000). 83 Joseph Kwame Kyeretwi Boakye Danquah (18951965) was a Ghanaian statesman, nationalist, and writer. He was a descendant of Akan royalty. He held a doctorate from the University of London. Danquah died in a Ghanaian prison where he had been incarcerated for political reasons. He is the author of Gold Coast Akan Laws and Customs and the Akim Abuakwa Constitution (1928) and Akan Doctrine of God (1944). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) T. O. Elias,84 and Julius Lewin were included in the course, as was a consideration of West Africa as a center of plant domestication. The shift to agriculture practiced by males, and surplus and redistributive economies in forest and savanna ecozones were the foci of other lessons. The West African history of state formation, with emphasis on the army and warfare, was another topic with the examples of ancient Ghana and Timbuktu, as well as the Fulani, Hausa, Ashanti, Benin, Yoruba, and Dahomey. There was consideration of the Ewe and Ibo, stateless West African groups presented from the perspective of Cheikh Anta Diop.85 Dogon, Nupe, and Nuer - 22 religions and cosmologies rounded out the course, along with an exploration of the African heritage in the New World (course syllabus, Murra, NAA). Although this course appears to have been a thorough introduction to African ethnology, human ecology, and ethnohistory, it would be daunting for a scholar with decades of practical experience in Africa to attempt such a panorama. For someone with Murra’s limited experience, it was a feat of breathtaking intellectual daring. Murra remained on the Vassar faculty, with gaps, until 1963. He taught there in the 1950-51 academic year, and, nominally, from spring of 1954 to 1963.86 Murra often expressed appre- 84 Taslim Olawale Elias (1914-1994) was a distinguished Nigerian jurist and pan-Africanist. He received LL.B. (1946), LL.M. (1947), Ph.D. (1949), and LL.D. (1962) degrees from the University of London. He was called to the bar in London’s Inner Temple in 1947. In 1951, while holding a UNESCO fellowship, he became a research fellow and instructor in anthropology at Manchester University. In 1954 he became a research fellow at Oxford University. In 1956, as a visiting professor, he was instrumental in developing an African Studies Department at the University of Delhi, India. He was a governor of the School of African and Oriental Studies (London) and a professor and dean at the University of Lagos. In the late 1950s he helped to draft Nigeria’s independence constitution and in 1961-62 the constitution of Congo. He was the first attorney general of Nigeria, chief justice of the Supreme Court of Nigeria, and a president of the International Court of Justice (World Court). He was the author of Nigerian Land Law and Custom (1951), Groundwork of Nigerian Law (1954), Makers of Nigerian Law (1956), the Nature of African Customary Law (1956), and Africa and the Development of International Law (1972). He valued both British and traditional African law, believed that law evolved in tandem with social development, and advocated hybrid systems. He contributed to the development of concepts of a non-Eurocentric international law. In his writings Elias romanticized the medieval African empires of Songhai and Timbuktu. 85 Cheikh Anta Diop (1923-1986) was a Senegalese historian, anthropologist, physicist, and politician. He studied pre-colonial African culture and is one of the most influential African intellectuals of the twentieth century. In Paris he studied physics under Frédéric Joliot-Curie, son-inlaw of Pierre and Marie Curie. Diop’s 1960 Paris doctoral thesis, first presented in 1951, argues that Pharaonic Egypt was a black culture. It remains an influential work in the Black Pride movement. Diop’s book Nations nègres et culture (1955) is based on that thesis. He established a radiocarbon laboratory at the University of Dakar (now the Cheikh Anta Diop University of Dakar). Among his many works are The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality (1974), The Cultural Unity of Black Africa . . . (1978), Civilisation ou barbarie: Antropologie sans complaisance (1981), and the chapter on ancient Egypt in the UNESCO General History of Africa (1981-). Diop denounced racial biases and believed that there were broad patterns of African cultural unity. He argued that all languages could develop scientific terminology and translated Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity into the Wolof language, Diop’s mother tongue. 86 Although Heather Lechtman remembers Murra teaching at Vassar during her freshman year, 1952-53 (personal communication, 11 December 2008), the documentary record at Vassar suggests he was not teaching there from fall of 1951 through fall 1953. In a “to whom it may concern” letter in Spanish setting out his professional qualifications and experience, dated 17 June 1964, Murra describes himself as a professor (catedrático) on leave (con licencia) from Vassar College when he worked for the United Nations in 1951 (Húanuco Project files, Junius B. Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Anthropology Division, American Museum of Natural History, hereinafter Húanuco Files, A.M.N.H.). At the time Murra had been a part-time lecturer whose contract had not been renewed. Up until the late 1960s, in a series of dated c.v.’s which form part of the Murra 23 ciation to Vassar for having supported him at a time in his life when his Communist background and citizenship problems increased his difficulties in finding employment. However, by the time Vassar hired Murra he was already a United States citizen, and his Vassar contract was apparently not renewed during the worst years of McCarthyism. Murra encouraged student interest in politics from a leftist perspective, giving his favorites subscriptions to The Nation as graduation presents (Murra 1958d). These gifts were well in accord with Vassar’s liberal political culture. Concurrently with his work at Vassar Murra taught at Columbia University in the spring of 1954-55, at Fordham University in the summer of 1954, and at the New School for Social Research in 1958-59. At Columbia he presented a course on the peoples of the Andes (Murra 1956a: iv). In 1958 and 1959, with his passport in hand, and on leave from Vassar, Murra conducted ethnological and ethnohistorical work in Peru. He was joined in Lima by Harriett Davis (now Harriett Haritos) after her 1959 graduation with a major in anthropology. Davis had previously worked with Murra in Martinique in 1957 (Harriett Davis Haritos, personal communication, 15 June 2009). Davis later obtained a master’s degree in anthropology from Columbia University. In the 1959-60 academic year Murra did additional archival research in Lima. During this period Murra taught a general course, “The Economic Organization of the Inca State”, based on his dissertation87 and an advanced seminar, Papers in the National Anthropological Archive, Murra stated that from 1951 through 1953 he worked full-time on his doctoral dissertation and then resumed teaching at Vassar in 1954. However, at some point in the late 1960s he began to list his time at Vassar as continuous from 1951 to 1963 and he omitted the detail that he had first been hired as an adjunct lecturer. 87 “To whom it may concern” letter by John V. Murra, 17 June 1964, Húanuco Files, A.M.N.H. Barnes: John V. Murra “Ethnohistorical Uses of the XVIth Century Sources on Inca Social and Economic Organization” at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos in Lima.88 Up to this point Murra had had little opportunity to work with unpublished archival sources himself, although he saw the potential and had subjected available published sources to close readings. Attending his classes were many individuals who later became famous archaeologists or historians and close colleagues of Murra’s, including Duccio Bonavia,89 Luís Lumbreras,90 Ramiro Matos 88 This is according to typed notes, presumably by John V. Murra, in the John Victor Murra File, Vassar College. 89 Duccio Bonavia (b. 1935) is an Italian-Peruvian archaeologist. He has investigated bioarchaeological topics including the introduction and development of maize in South America and the domestication of camelids. Among his books are Arqueología de Lurín (1965), Ricchata quellccani: Pinturas murales prehispánicas (1974) published in English as Mural Painting in Ancient Peru (1985), Los Gavilanes: Mar, desierto, y oásis en la historia del hombre (1982), and Perú, hombre y historia: De los origines al siglo XV (1991). 90 Luís Guillermo Lumbreras (b. 1936) received both a bachelor’s degree and a doctorate from the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. He established Peru’s first Social Sciences faculty at Ayacucho’s Universidad San Cristóbal de Huamanga during the 1960s and later helped to establish a similar unit at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Among his achievements are the construction of a cultural-chronological framework for Peruvian prehistory and the development of social archaeology, a Marxist analysis which relates the Andean past to the political present. He has held many important museum and teaching posts within and beyond Peru. Among his main publications are La arqueología como ciencia social (1981) and Chavín: Excavaciones arqueológicas (2007). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Mendieta.91 Franklin Pease, and María Rostworowski. Murra considered Rostworowski to be “the most imaginative Andean scholar in the use of ethnohistorical records” whose “earliest work is full of insights” (Murra in Rowe 1984:640). In Cusco Murra interacted with many exceptional people including archaeologists Richard Schaedel (see Dillehay, Andean Past 8) and John Howland Rowe (see Burger, Andean Past 8), as well as prominent writer Aldous Huxley (1894-1963). Huxley was then near the end of his life, but at the height of his fame and powers, and was considered by many to be something of a guru. His extended family, for at least four generations, had been deeply entwined into the bedrock supporting Britain’s literary, scientific, educational, and religious communities.92 Cusco’s 91 Ramiro Matos Mendieta (b. 1937), a native Quechua speaker, is currently Curator for Latin America at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian. He obtained his doctorate in 1962 from Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos where he taught from 1970 to 1988 and is now a professor emeritus. Matos has conducted archaeological and ethnological research in Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina. Among his publications are Pumpu: Centro administrativo inka en la Puna de Junín, Perú (1994) and Prehispanic Settlement Patterns in the Upper Mantaro and Tarma Drainages, Junín, Peru (with Jeffrey Parsons and Charles Hastings, 2000). 92 One of Aldous Huxley’s maternal great grandfathers was Thomas Arnold (1795-1842), a famous headmaster of Rugby School. One of his maternal uncles was poet Matthew Arnold (1822-1888). Another was literary scholar Tom Arnold (1823-1900). Aldous Huxley’s maternal aunt, Mary Augusta Arnold Ward (1851-1920) became famous as the novelist Mrs. Humphrey Ward. Aldous Huxley’s paternal grandfather, Thomas Henry Huxley (1825-1895) was Charles Darwin’s famous defender. His father, Leonard Huxley (1860-1933), was an educator and biographer. Aldous Huxley’s brother, Julian Huxley (1887-1957), and half-brother, Andrew Huxley (b. 1917) became famous as biologists. Another half-brother, jurist David Bruce Huxley (1915-1992) compiled and revised the laws of Bermuda. Aldous Huxley’s son, Matthew Huxley (1920-2005) was an educator, epidemiologist, and anthropologist. Author Elspeth Huxley (1907-1997) was a cousin by marriage. Among Aldous Huxley’s early students were novelist George Orwell (Eric Blair, 1903-1950) and medieval - 24 elite was thrilled by Huxley’s visit and relished the opportunity to learn from him. By contrast, Murra had no such illustrious family connections, and had not yet fully developed the expertise that would make him famous. Nevertheless, Murra undertook to educate an unwilling Huxley about the Inca (Alita Kelley, personal communication 19 April 2009). In 1960 Murra also spent a few weeks in the Archivo General de Indias in Seville. In 1961 he taught under Organization of American States auspices at Mexico’s Escuela Nacional de Antropología e Historia. From 1961 to 1963 he taught at Yale as a visiting professor, offering a course on Andean anthropology. It was at Vassar, however, that Murra attracted his first principal students who went on to careers in anthropology. These include Heather Lechtman (Vassar class of 1956), then a physics major with a keen interest in anthropology, and now Professor of Archaeology and Ancient Technology and Director of the Center for Materials Research in Archaeology and Ethnology (CMRAE) at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T.). Immediately after graduation Lechtman won a Vassar grant to spend the summer with Murra and Davis in Martinique, as a participant in the “Research and Training Program for the Study of Man in the Tropics” (Vassar College press release February 13, 1956). Another of Murra’s Vassar students who went on to a successful career in anthropology is archaeologist Nan Rothschild, a member of the Vassar class of 1959.93 At Vassar Rothschild historian Stephen Runciman (1930-2000). 93 Anita (Nan) Askin Rothschild (b. 1938) was awarded a doctorate from New York University in 1975. She taught at Barnard College from 1981 to 2007 and is now director of Museum Studies at Columbia University. She has done prehistoric, historic, and ethno-archaeology in New York City and in New Mexico. She has also worked with 25 worked as Murra’s office assistant for two and a half years. She recalls him as a charismatic teacher who treated students as professionals, encouraging them to attend American Anthropological Association meetings and conduct field-work. Murra also contributed to anthropology at Vassar by inviting speakers to campus and organizing an anthropology club called Ohemaa after a Ghanaian term for “queen mother” the woman who sits behind the throne and advises the king (Rothschild, personal communication, 19 June 2009). At Vassar Murra also taught Janet Mathews Fitchen.94 Later, at Cornell, Murra’s well-known students included, in addition to Denise O’Brien95 who also studied with him at Vassar, Javier Albó,96 Rolena Adorno, Martha Anders museum collections. Among her major works are New York City Neighborhoods: The Eighteenth Century (1990) and Prehistoric Dimensions of Status: Gender and Age in Eastern North America (1991), and Colonial Encounters in a Native American Landscape: The Spanish and Dutch in North America (1993). With Eleanor B. Leacock she edited The Ethnographic Journals of William Duncan Strong, 1927-28 (1994). 94 Janet Mathews Fitchen (d. 1995, age 58) graduated from Vassar in 1958. She was awarded a Master of Arts by the University of Illinois at Urbana (1959), and a Ph.D. from Cornell University (1973). All of her degrees were in anthropology. Fitchen grew up on a dairy farm in upstate New York, did field-work with Oscar Lewis in Mexico, and made major contributions to our understanding of rural poverty in the United States. At the time of her death she was the chairwoman of Ithaca College’s department of anthropology. She is the author of Poverty in Rural America: A Case Study (1981) and Endangered Spaces, Enduring Places: Change, Identity and Survival in Rural America (1991). An obituary by Wolfgang Saxon was published in the April 7, 1995 issue of The New York Times. 95 Denise O’Brien (d. 2008) obtained an A.B. from Vassar College (1959) and a Ph.D. from Yale (1969). She was the editor of Rethinking Women’s Roles: Perspectives from the Pacific (with Sharon F. Tiffany, 1984). 96 Javier Albó (b. 1934) is a Bolivian ethnohistorian, Barnes: John V. Murra (Sandweiss, Andean Past 3), informal student César Fonseca,97 Inge Harman, Enrique Meyer,98 Patricia Netherly (see Netherly this volume, pp. 72-73), Roger Rasnake, Frank Salomon, Izumi Shimada99, and Freda Wolf (see Wolf, this volume, pp. 69-72). Quechua and Aymara speaker, and Roman Catholic priest. Among his many publications are works on bilingual education, politics, ethnic relations, Quechua and Aymara language and literature, kinship, and aspects of Bolivian history. 97 César Fonseca Martel (1933-1986) obtained a doctorate from the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos (1972) where he taught. He worked with John Murra informally at the Smithsonian, and at Cornell University, as well as during the Huánuco Project. He was an economic anthropologist who developed John Murra’s theories of verticality. From 1968 to 1985 he worked with his friend Enrique Mayer (see note 98) in Chaupiwaranga, Cañete, Tulumayo, and Paucartambo, Peru, studying Andean systems of production, forms of exchange, and economic development. He is the author of Sistemas agrarios de la cuenca del río Cañete del departamento de Lima (with Enrique Meyer, 1979) as well as numerous articles about the Peruvian peasant economy. 98 Enrique Meyer (b. 1944), the son of Jews who fled from the Nazis, grew up in the Peruvian highlands. He studied for his undergraduate degree at the London School of Economics and received his Ph.D. from Cornell University (1974). He has taught at the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, and has been head of the Department of Anthropological Research at the Inter-American Indian Institute in Mexico City. In 1982 he joined the faculty of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. In 1995 he moved to Yale University. His research interests include Andean agricultural systems and Latin American peasantry. He is the author of The Articulated Peasant: Household Economies in the Andes (2001). 99 Izumi Shimada (b. 1948) is a Distinguished Professor of Anthropology at Southern Illinois University. He holds a B.A. from Cornell University (1971) and a doctorate from the University of Arizona (1976). He has excavated at the Moche site of Pampa Grande. Since 1978 he has directed the Sicán Archaeological Project and he also works at Pachacamac. Among his numerous published works are Pampa Grande and the Moche Culture (1994) and the edited volume Technología y la producción cerámica prehispánica en los andes (1994). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Murra’s requests for generous leaves from Vassar became an issue. In 1963 he was awarded an $89,300 National Science Foundation grant to direct archaeological, ethnological, and ethnohistorical research on Inca provincial life in the Huánuco, Peru region. In accord with British sociocultural anthropologists such as Malinowski and Radcliffe-Brown, Murra believed that fieldwork should be continuous over several years. When he requested three additional consecutive years of leave for this research, there was a parting of the ways. Although Vassar encouraged faculty and student research, its commitment to undergraduate education required that faculty members spent much of their time teaching in Poughkeepsie. Furthermore, the anthropology section of the Department of Economics, Sociology, and Anthropology seems to have been experiencing some sort of crisis. Helen Codere who had long taught at Vassar, moved to Brandeis, leaving a subdepartment essentially without faculty. The dozen anthropology courses in the 1963-64 catalogue issue of the Bulletin of Vassar College were all listed as to be taught by a new lecturer, African specialist Alexander Alland, or with the instructors “to be announced”. Alland did not remain long at Vassar, although he continued working in anthropology. It appears that John Murra left a subdepartment in collapse. However, Murra never expressed any bitterness over his years at Vassar. On the contrary, he seems to have appreciated the college’s support during a difficult time in his life. By the late 1960s, after an interim period presided over by the prehistorian Morton Levine, the Vassar Anthropology Department, which by then had separated from Economics, and later separated from Sociology, stabilized under the chairmanship of Walter A. Fairservis, Jr.100 who 100 Walter Ashlin Fairservis, Jr. (1921-1994) was an archaeologist, actor, and playwright who conducted fieldwork principally in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Egypt. He held an A.A. from Chicago (1941), a B.A.(1943), and an - 26 joined the Vassar faculty in the fall of 1968 and retired in 1993. The department has prospered ever since. It now offers over thirty courses taught by a full-time faculty of seven, plus visiting professors. In Peru I once heard a deliciously garbled account of Murra’s Vassar years. There a student, who had no idea I had graduated from that college, earnestly told me his version of John Murra’s struggles to gain a United States passport. According to this account, Murra was in trouble with United States authorities because of his leftist background, but a convent of very intellectual and liberal nuns took up his cause and gave him sanctuary. Prior to the late 1960s Vassar’s all female student body and somewhat isolated, walled campus with extensive grounds and neo-Gothic architecture made it resemble a rural monastery. I couldn’t wait to relate this version of the “telephone” game to Murra who was aware of our mutual connection. When I did he looked baffled at first, then leaned closer and whispered in a mock-conspiratorial tone, “But it’s true, you know!” John did have a sense of humor. PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL M.A. (1948) from Columbia, as well as an M.A. (1954) and Ph.D. from Harvard (1958). He began an association with the American Museum of Natural History in 1941 as a volunteer. He eventually became the scientific authority for the Museum’s Gardner D. Stoat Hall of Asian Peoples. He taught at Vassar College from 1969 to 1993. As an actor and the son of an actress, Fairservis’s lectures had a dramatic flair that attracted many students to Anthropology. The emergence of civilization in the Old World was one of his major theoretical interests and he often explored a speculative archaeology aimed at a mixed readership. Among his major works are Excavations in the Quetta Valley, West Pakistan (1956), Archaeological Surveys in the Zhob and Loralai Districts, West Pakistan (1959), The Roots of Ancient India . . . (1971), An Experiment in Civilization: An Experiment in Prehistory (1975), and field reports on his Hierakonpolis Project, published by Vassar College (1983). An obituary of Fairservis by Wolfgang Saxon appeared in the July 16, 1994 issue of The New York Times. 27 During the 1950s John Murra functioned as more than just a teacher at a small college for women. He was a public intellectual who had considerable credibility due to his anti-fascist role in the Spanish Civil War. Murra’s anthropological and political interests were broad. In addition to Andean studies, they included the evolution of the state in Africa, patterns of land tenure, decolonization, and African art.101 He also continued his active research interest in Puerto Rico and the French Caribbean, adopting advocacy positions on the problems encountered by immigrants from these islands to the United States.102 Fifty or sixty years ago most Puerto Ricans who settled in New York City struggled with a physical, social, economic, and cultural environment drastically different from what they knew on their home island. Many found themselves in the slums of Manhattan’s Spanish Harlem or the West Side, a situation romanticized by the contemporaneous musical “West Side Story”. It is a shock to revisit anthropological examinations such as Up to the Slums (1958) by Murra’s friend and colleague Elena Padilla, or investigative journalism reports like Dan Wakefield’s Island in the City (1959) or “The Other Puerto Ricans” (Wakefield 1959; see also Murra 1959a). The photos alone convey the horror of life in neighborhoods where every day was a constant struggle against poverty, discrimination, filth, overcrowding, crime, and ill-health, the like of which we have not seen in this country in decades. Murra did what he could to raise consciousness of these problems without blaming the victims, even living for a while in Barnes: John V. Murra Spanish Harlem, at 321 East 121st Street103 in a house that was later destroyed in preparation for a public housing project. Later he moved to 27 Pierrepont Street, in Brooklyn Heights.104 Murra wrote for a general readership in national publications, most notably The Nation (Murra 1954b, 1955a, 1955c, 1955e, 1955g, 1955h, 1958d, 1959a). He also published brief articles in limited circulation papers such as the Vassar Miscellany News (Murra 1955b) and the Vassar Chronicle (Murra 1956c; Murra and Mercer 1957). During the 1950s and early 1960s he often spoke to educated general audiences, most frequently about Africa (Anon. 1956c, 1957b,1960a, 1961b, 1961c, 1961e), Puerto Rico and the Caribbean (Anon. 1958), and least frequently about Peru, the Incas, and Andean culture in general (Anon. 1961f, 1961g). Sometimes, though, Murra expressed impatience with the use of anthropology to shed light on contemporary problems. In a comment made to the Vassar Miscellany News Murra said anthropology “is like the case of the man who sold the bear skin while the bear was still in the forest” (Zahner 1950:3). People expected anthropology to provide overnight answers to questions arising in modern nations. Meanwhile, in 1949, Murra had begun Freudian psychoanalysis, a process that became a vital part of his personal identity. In the midtwentieth century, psychoanalysis was accepted by most intellectuals as an important heuristic system and Murra committed to it fully. Murra 103 Wakefield 1959:82; Memo, September 1950, the Vassar College Office of Public Relations, John Victor Murra File, Vassar College. 101 Anon. 1956c, 1957b, 1957c, 1960a, 1961b, 1961c, 1961e; Murra 1951b, 1951c, 1951d, 1951e, 1951f, 1951g, 1954a, 1954b, 1955a, 1955h, 1956b, 1964c. 102 Anon. 1957d, 1958; Gillespie 1950; Murra 1951a, 1955b, 1955d, 1957a, 1957b, 1959a. 104 An envelope sent to Murra at that address by César Fonseca and postmarked March 27, 1968 is among the Húanuco files in the Junius B. Bird Laboratory of South American Anthropology, Anthropology Division, American Museum of Natural History, hereinafter Bird Lab. A.M.N.H.. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) had met one of his future psychoanalysts, Saul B. Newton105 during the Spanish Civil War (Castro et al. 2000:33). Newton seems to have influenced Murra deeply in terms of Murra’s attitudes towards both sexual and parent-child relationships. At Newton’s suggestion, starting in 1951 and continuing until 1996, Murra kept diaries recording his dreams, thoughts, conversations, and personal activities. Sometimes chaotic and impressionistic, sometimes clearly written, these are intimate and emotionally charged. They reveal a private personality very different from that of the confident authority Murra projected in public. Another of Murra’s psychoanalysts was the Chilean Lola Hoffman who also worked with Murra’s friend José María Arguedas. Murra placed great trust in Hoffman, crediting her with curing him of a Seconal (barbiturate sleeping pill) addiction and of keeping Arguedas alive longer than would otherwise have been the case. In the early 1950s Murra also worked with psychoanalyst Leon N. Goldensohn106 (Murra 1956a:v). 105 Saul B. Newton, né Cohen (d. 1991, age 85) was a New York psychoanalyst with ties to University of Chicago radical circles. From its foundation in 1957, until his death, Newton headed a controversial Manhattan therapeutic commune, the Sullivan Institute for Research in Psychoanalysis. Membership in the Institute peaked in the 1970s. Newton taught that family ties were at the root of most mental illnesses and urged the separation of parents from young children. He advocated personal liberation through multiple sexual partners, but denied that he pressured Institute members into unwelcome relationships. Newton was, however, an avowed Com-munist, a labor union organizer, and an opponent of nuclear arms and power. An obituary of Newton by Bruce Lambert was published in the December 23, 1991 issue of The New York Times. The Sullivan Institute/Fourth Wall Community by Amy B. Siskind is a disillusioned insider’s view of Newton’s commune (2003). 106 Leon N. Goldensohn (d. 1961, age 50) was a United States Army psychologist who assessed the mental health of Nazi defendants during the Nuremberg Trials. The notes of his interviews were published as The Nuremberg Interviews (2004). - 28 THE HUÁNUCO PROJECT Murra conceived the idea for his major field research, the “Inca Provincial Life Project”, better known as the Huánuco Project, early in his career. According to Murra, Wendell Bennett first drew his attention to Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga’s 1562 Huánuco Visita (Castro et al. 2000:109). Bennett was both an advocate and practitioner of interdisciplinary studies that combined archaeology with ethnography, geography, botany, history, and other fields of research. A portion of Ortiz’s Huánuco Visita as transcribed by Padre Domingo Angulo, head of the colonial section of Peru’s national archive, had been published between 1920 and 1925 in the Revista del Archivo Nacional del Perú. In 1955-1962 more of this visita appeared in the same journal, while in 1955-56 Marie Helmer published the 1549 visita to the Chupachos in the Travaux de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines. Murra was also influenced by the Annales school of historiography and his friend Alfred Métraux107 who, in his general synthetic work Les Incas (1961) stated that study of administrative records was often more fruitful than examination of formal, published chronicles about the Inca. 107 Alfred Métraux (1902-1963) was a Swiss-Argentinian ethnographer and civil rights leader. Educated mainly in France, he received a doctorate from the Sorbonne (1928). Métraux was the founder and first director (19281934) of the Institute of Ethnology at the Universidad de Tucúman, Argentina. From 1941 to 1945 he played an important role in the production of the Smithsonian’s Handbook of South American Indians. Métraux held a number of short term teaching posts in the United States, Latin America, and Europe. He conducted field research on Easter Island, in Argentina, Peru, Chile, Brazil, Mexico, Haiti, and in Europe immediately after the Second World War. He worked for the United Nations (19461962). Among his many works are La civilization matérielle des tribus Tupi-Guarani (1928), Médecine et vodou en Haiti (1953), Ethnology of Easter Island (1971), and Les Inca (1961). 29 During the late 1950s Murra had made field visits to the Huánuco area and knew from personal observations that late period archaeological sites of many types were abundant there, and that the great Inca administrative center of Huánuco Pampa was well preserved. Murra proposed an integration of several lines of evidence to create a more advanced interpretation of Inca life. The visitas provided a list of sites with a variety of functions. These included villages, shrines, markets, and fortresses, as well as roads and their way-stations or tambos. In his successful National Science Foundation application Murra expressed the belief that it would be possible to locate and visit every place mentioned, excavating a selection. Archaeological evidence could then be integrated with the detailed historical accounts. Because the documents included much economic data, including information on agricultural practices, Murra suggested that a botanist be an integral part of the project. He could observe contemporary plant use which, Murra believed, would shed light on past practices. As project staff, Murra assembled a small team of American and Peruvian field-workers. Murra himself conducted the archival and ethnographic research. Donald E. Thompson agreed to serve as the senior archaeologist. Thompson was the son of famous Mayanist J. Eric S. Thompson. John L. Cotter,108 of the United States Park 108 John L. Cotter (1911-1999) held a B.A. (1934) and M.A. (1935) in Anthropology from the University of Denver and a Ph.D. (1959) from the University of Pennsylvania. Over the course of his life he excavated at a variety of famous North American sites including the Lindenmeier, Colorado palaeoindian site; the Clovis, New Mexico type site; the Bynum Mounds, a Mississippi Hopewell site; the Emerald Mound temple in Natchez territory; in colonial Jamestown, Virginia; and in urban Philadelphia. He was the founder, and the first president, of the Society for Historical Archaeology. He worked for the National Parks Service and taught at the University of Pennsylvania and was a curator at the University Museum there. A short obituary by John Rose appears in a 1999 issue of Archaeology. An Barnes: John V. Murra Service, also joined the team. Robert McKelvey Bird, then a graduate student at the University of California, signed on as the botanist, bringing along his wife, Mary Watson Bird. As a son of Junius109 and Margaret [Peggy] Bird,110 Robert Bird had grown up with South American archaeology. Peter Jenson, a Peace Corps volunteer with museum experience, ran the lab for a while. Archaeologists Gordon D. Hadden and Daniel Shea111 were also part of the team. anthology of Carter’s writings, with biographical material is Witness to the Past: The Life and Works of John L. Cotter published in 2007 by John L. Cotter (posthumously), Daniel G. Roberts, and David Gerald Orr. 109 Junius Bolton Bird (1907-1982) was, from 1931, until his death, Curator of South American Archaeology at the American Museum of Natural History. His work at Fell’s Cave in the south of Chile suggested that all of the Americas were first occupied quickly and at an early date, while his Huaca Prieta excavations in the Chicama Valley of Northern Peru yielded early decorated gourds and twined textiles. Bird was President of the Society for American Archaeology (1961) and received the order of el Sol del Perú in 1974. He may have been an inspiration for the fictional character Indiana Jones. His book Travels and Archaeology in South Chile was put together after his death by his colleague John Hyslop. Short biographies by Hyslop appeared in Natural History (1989) and in Christopher Winters’ International Dictionary of Anthropologists (1991) An obituary by Craig Morris was published in the American Anthropologist (1985). 110 Margaret (Peggy) Lee McKelvey Bird (1909-1996) graduated from Bryn Mawr College in 1931, the same year she met her future husband Junius Bolton Bird whom she married in 1934. That summer the newlyweds participated in an archaeological excavation in Labrador, and then spent nearly three years in South America, conducting excavations at Fell’s Cave, Palliaike Cave, and Mylodon Cave in southern Chile, among other projects. Peggy Bird continued to assist her husband in a variety of professional ways throughout his career. 111 Daniel Shea teaches at the Department of Anthropology, Beloit College. He earned a MS (1967) with a thesis entitled The Plaza Complex of Huánuco Viejo and a Ph.D. (1968) with a dissertation entitled WariWilka: A Central Andean Oracle Site, both from the University of Wisconsin, Madison. He currently conducts ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) The Peruvian archaeologists Manuel Chávez Ballón,112 Ramiro Matos Mendieta, Luís Barreda Murillo,113 and Rogger Ravines114 joined the project, as well as Peruvian students César Fonseca Martel, Emilio Mendizábal Losack,115 archaeological research in Chile’s Atacama Desert. 112 Manuel Chávez Ballón (1918-2000) obtained his doctorate in education from the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. After a few years as a secondary school instructor he began to teach at the Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cusco and at San Marcos. Chávez Ballón accompanied Julio C. Tello on some of his expeditions, including to the site of Wiñaywayna near Machu Picchu. Inspired by Tello, Chávez Ballón became a self-taught archaeologist dedicated to elucidating and preserving the cultural heritage of Cusco. In 1952 he led an expedition to the now famous Qero ayllu in Paucartambo. He discovered the site of Marcavalle, an Early Horizon site near Cusco. He is the father of archaeologist Sergio Chávez. Machu Picchu’s site museum is named for him. 113 Luís Barreda Murillo (1929-2009) held a doctorate in anthropology and history from the Universidad Nacional de San Antonio Abad del Cusco. He was an archaeologist who specialized in the pre-Inca cultures of Peru’s Departments of Apurímac, Puno, and Cusco and who held a variety of important teaching and administrative posts at UNSAAC. 114 Rogger Ravines Sánchez (b. 1940) holds a doctorate from the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos and has also studied at the University of California, Berkeley and at Harvard. He is a Peruvian archaeologist who has held a variety of important administrative positions. He is the editor of Technología Andina (1978), and the author of Panorama de la arqueología andina (1982), Chanchán: Metropolí Chimú (1980), La cerámica tradicional del Perú (with Fernando Villiger, 1989), Arqueología práctica (1989), and 100 años de arqueología en el Perú (1970), among other works. 115 Emilio Mendizábal Losack (1922-1979) was an ethnologist and artist who contributed to our understanding of Peruvian folk art traditions, especially Sarhua paintings and Ayacucho retablos. Among his publications are Pacaraos: Una comunidad en la parte alta del Valle de Chancay (1964), Patrones arquitectónicos inkas (2002), and Del Sanmarkos al retablo ayacuchano: Dos ensayos pioneros sobre arte tradicional peruano (2003). - 30 and Juan M. Ossio Acuña,116 and American Freda Wolf. According to the outline presented in Murra’s N.S.F. proposal, and interim reports submitted, the first year of the project, to begin officially on July 1, 1963, was devoted to survey to identify the installations mentioned by Ortiz de Zúñiga, including the great site of Huánuco Pampa and fortresses noted by Ortiz but not visited by him. Of special interest was the market town at Chinchacocha. The extent to which markets, as opposed to other forms of state-sponsored or local exchange, functioned in the Andes remains somewhat unclear, but Murra addressed this issue in many of his writings, including his dissertation. In general, Murra’s Huánuco-centered work has contributed a great deal to our understanding of the economic organization of the Inca state. The second year of the Huánuco Project was devoted to ethnological work and to excavation of selected sites. The third and final year, to end on July 1, 1966, was designated for analysis and the preparation of manuscripts for publication including the republication, with scholarly commentary, of Huánuco visitas (Ortiz 1967, 1972). In his interim report to the N.S.F. Murra expressed some disappointment in the results achieved by the mid-point of the project. Al116 Juan M. Ossio (b.1943) studied history at the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú (1960-1965) and anthropology at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos (1963-1966). From the University of Oxford he obtained a Diploma in Social Anthropology (1967), a B.Litt. (1970), and D.Phil. (1978). He is a senior professor at PUCP. He has twice been a Tinker Visiting Professor at the University of Chicago (1988, 2000). He is the editor of Ideología Mesiánica del Mundo Andino (1973) and the author of Los indios del Perú (1992), Parentesco, reciprocidad y jerarquía en los Andes (1992), Las paradojas del Perú oficial (1994), El códice Murúa (2004), and En busca del orden perdido: La idea de la historia en Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala (2008). 31 though at the start Murra presumed that a one hundred percent match would be possible between installations mentioned by Ortiz and sites on the ground, Murra and his colleagues had been able to find and visit only about half of the places. Murra did feel that the project had successfully documented the ethnic frontier between the Yacha, including the site and village of Cauri, and the Wamali country around the present settlement of Jesús or Ñucon. Villages in Yacha territory had been partially excavated. At Huánuco Pampa Murra’s team had excavated a house, as well as storehouses, and they had examined the site’s extensive ceremonial architecture. They had also made a pottery sample and followed the Inca highway or Capac Ñan (“Great Road” in Quechua) north to the tambo of Tapataku and south to Tunsucancha. However, Murra admitted that he had underestimated both the difficulties of doing archaeological field-work in a high altitude location not served by paved roads, and the suspicion with which Peruvians often regarded foreign researchers. He said that the time spent explaining and “mending fences” limited the amount of research he was able to accomplish. In an article published in a 1965 issue of Curator Peter Jenson is more explicit. He acknowledges tensions between foreign researchers and local people, both educated and illiterate. Because the concept of work done without monetary recompense was unfamiliar in the area, the motives of the scientists were widely questioned. There was a lack of cooperation, attempts at spying, and a formal accusation of gold theft. This closely parallels the reception of Charles Marie de La Condamine’s survey work in Ecuador during the 1730s, suggesting that such reactions were wide-spread and deeply rooted in the Andes. Murra’s team attempted to counter ill-will with gifts of photographs and a series of community addresses. When it became apparent that the costs of photo distribution were mounting, Jenson developed an exhibition of four Barnes: John V. Murra panels that could be carried by two men or one horse. This explained the work of the project and circulated in remote areas. At the time Murra began his Huánuco field and archival research his practical experience with archaeology and the use of unpublished original documents was limited. He had attended Fay-Cooper Cole’s Illinois summer field school and had participated in Collier’s six month reconnaissance of Ecuador. He had also done some independent reconnaissance work in the Huánuco region. He had spent a few weeks in the Archivo General de Indias, and rather more time in Lima and Cusco colonial archives. Privately Murra was considerably more circumspect than one could be in a successful grant application. On October 8, 1963, en route to South America, he wrote in his diary “. . . I have no idea even of what could be done in Perú, re Inca, in Huánuco. . .” Inexperience and enthusiasm may have led Murra to promise more than could possibly have been revealed through colonial documents and archaeological remains. In spite of disappointments and frustrations, the Huánuco Project, especially Murra’s publication and studies of the Huánuco visitas (Murra 1972a; Murra, editor, 1964; Ortiz 1967, 1972) led him to his most influential explanatory framework, that of “verticality” or the simultaneous access of an ethnic group or state to various productive ecological niches. Murra established case studies that he argued supported his reconstruction. One encompasses the small ethnic groups of Huánuco, the Chupaychu and Yacha, each consisting of a few thousand individuals, who controlled or shared various resources at some distance from their population centers. These included pasture lands, salt works, cotton, maize, and coca fields, and forests. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Perhaps the most important case is that of the Lupaca, a large ethnic kingdom with its population center in the Lake Titicaca Basin but with outlying colonies in the desert oasis valleys of what is now northern Chile, as well as in the tropical forests of the eastern Andean slopes. Murra also thought that small ethnic groups centered on the central coast of Peru, as well as large north coast polities, may have controlled resources distant from their political and population centers. Over the years Murra’s insights have served as templates for other studies (c.f. Jorge Hidalgo’s 2004 collection of articles, Historia andina en Chile and the Chincha Project [1983-2005] directed by Heather Lechtman, Luís Lumbreras, Craig Morris, and María Rostworowski). One of the outstanding Chincha Project participants is Andean Past editor Daniel H. Sandweiss who based his doctoral dissertation (Cornell University 1989) on his Chincha field research. This dissertation was published in 1992 as The Archaeology of Chincha Fishermen: Specialization and Status in Inka Peru in the Carnegie Museum of Natural History Bulletin. Several lines of criticism have developed concerning Murra’s notions of “verticality” and Andean complementarity. One is that a “pax incaica” or pax Tiwanaku would have been necessary for small and vulnerable groups of individuals to maintain control over valuable resources far from their major population centers, a condition that Murra himself ad-mitted (Murra 1979b: 222). Another is that Murra was selective in the details he chose to include in his models, ignoring some of the information contained in his sources and dismissing other sources as “exceptions”. Fur-thermore, knowledge of Andean agro-pastoral technology has developed since the 1970s. Thanks to the work of William M. Denevan,117 Clark Erickson,118 Alan L. Kola 117 William M. Denevan (b. 1931) earned his B.A. (1953), - 32 ta,119 William P. Mitchell,120 Charles R. Ortloff M.A. (1958), and Ph.D. (1963), all in geography, from the The University of California, Berkeley. Among his teachers were James Parsons, John H. Rowe, and Carl Sauer. He is the Carl Sauer Professor Emeritus of the Department of Geography of the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His recent work has offered criticisms of the “pristine myth” of American environments before 1492 and his current research includes a history of agriculture in the Americas. He is the author of The Aboriginal Cultural Geography of the Llanos de Mojos, of Bolivia (1966), and Cultivated Landscapes of Native Amazonia and the Andes: Triumph over the Soil (2001). 118 Clark Lowden Erickson (b. 1954) has an undergraduate degree from the Washington University in St. Louis (1976) and a doctorate from the University of Illinois (1988) and is an associate professor in the Department of Anthropology of the University of Pennsylvania and an associate curator at the University Museum. He has made enormous contributions to our geographical, archaeological, and practical knowledge of South American agriculture, especially of the raised fields in the Lake Titicaca region, and of the fields, paths, and other earthworks of the Bolivian lowlands. He is the editor of Time and Complexity in Historical Ecology: Studies in the Neotropical Lowlands (with William Balée, 2006). A biographical sketch of Erickson by Deborah I. Olszewski was published in Expedition magazine (2008). 119 Alan L. Kolata (b. 1951) obtained his Ph.D. from Harvard University (1978). He is the Neukom Family Distinguished Professor of Anthropology and Social Sciences at the University of Chicago. He leads interdisciplinary research projects studying the human ecology of the Lake Titicaca basin during the past 3000 years. He has also worked on the north coast of Peru and in Thailand and Cambodia. He is the author of Valley of the Spirits: A Journey into the Lost Realm of the Aymara (1996), The Tiwanuku: Portrait of an Andean Civilization (2003), and Tiwanuku and its Hinterland (2003). 120 William P. Mitchell (b. 1937) obtained his Ph.D. from the University of Pittsburgh (1972). He is Professor of Anthropology and Freed Professor in the Social Sciences at Monmouth University, Monmouth, New Jersey. He has made a longitudinal study of the town of Quinoa in Peru’s Ayacucho Department, and of Quinoan immigrants to Lima. He focuses on political economy, peace and war, human ecology, socio-cultural evolution, and religion. He is the author of Peasants on the Edge: Crop, Cult, and Crisis in the Andes (1991), Picturing Faith: A Facsimile Edition of 33 and Michael E. Moseley (see Ortloff and Moseley, this volume, 279-305), among others, we now understand that altiplano raised fields and irrigated highland terraces ameliorate microclimates and produce a variety of foodstuffs, albeit with the investment of a fair amount of labor. The management of concentrated resources may have been more effective than that of scattered ones. Murra also formulated his ideas of settlement patterns before the rapid native depopulation of the Andes in the colonial period was fully understood. Demographic collapse provides opportunities for settlement reorganization and reallocation of resources. The patterns observed during and after drastic population reduction may not reflect the pre-collapse situation, however vehemently litigants may have asserted real or fictional past rights to bolster their claims as they had supposedly been in an economy where land purchase was unknown. Because Spanish law, as applied to the New World, affirmed preconquest land tenure arrangements, claimants needed to present arguments to Spanish officials that included claims to tenure extending into the remote past. The only ethnohistorical accounts of land use available to Murra, and to subsequent scholars, come from colonial contexts in which all participants, Spaniards, Indians, and even African slaves, are adjusting rapidly to new and shifting economic realities. Most of the archaeological work conducted as part of the Inca Provincial Life Project was never published. Murra had the archaeologists in his project turn over their field notes to him. For many years he kept them in Ithaca, in upstate New York, but eventually, through Craig Morris, the Pictographic Catechism in the Huntington Free Library (with Barbara H. Jaye, 1999), and Voices from the Global Margin: Confronting Poverty and Inventing New Lives in the Andes (2006). He is the editor of Irrigation at High Altitudes: The Social Organization of Water Control Systems in the Andes (with David Guillet, 1991). Barnes: John V. Murra they came to be stored in the Junius B. Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology in the Anthropology Division of the American Museum of Natural History. Numerous small excavations were made at Huánuco Pampa, and those at storehouses were reported in Morris’ doctoral dissertation, Storage in Tawantinsuyu (1967) and in subsequent articles by Morris. Daniel Shea’s 1967 University of Wisconsin master’s thesis, The Plaza Complex of Huánuco Viejo, and a preliminary article on the same topic published in 1966 in the Cuadernos de Investigación of the Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán (Huánuco) also report results of the project. Reconstruction of the most spectacular architecture at Huánuco Pampa was also undertaken by the project after its N.S.F. termination date of July 1, 1966 because the Peruvian Patronato Nacional de Arqueología provided funds for Murra’s team to rebuild a portion of the site (see cover, this volume and illustration, p. 64). John Murra hoped that Craig Morris would eventually produce a monograph that fully reported the archaeological aspects of the “Inca Provincial Life Project”. However, Morris continued at Huánuco for many years, supported by his own major grants, then worked at the La Centinela site in Peru’s Chincha Valley, at Tambo Colorado, in the Ica Valley, and, briefly, at Cochabamba, Bolivia. He was not able to completely publish his own independent work before his death, let alone that of Murra’s Huánuco Project. Fortunately, archaeologists can expect this situation to be partially remedied soon. Alan Covey, who worked with Morris at the American Museum of Natural History, has prepared a monograph drawing on Morris’ excavations at Huánuco. However, he did not incorporate materials from Murra’s project (R. Alan Covey, personal communication, 20 January 2009). Having seen the Huánuco field notes left by Murra’s team, it is my opinion that a solid regional archaeological survey report could have been produced. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Murra’s return to South America marked a turning point for him. As he explained in a 1989 interview (Ansaldi and Calderón), much of his life had been accidental up to that point. He was sent to Chicago because he had an uncle there. He learned Spanish because his commitment to the anti-fascist left motivated his presence in Spain during the Spanish Civil War. He went to Ecuador in 1941 because he had to earn a living and the project needed a Spanish-speaker. Legal difficulties prevented him from returning to Ecuador for doctoral research in a living community, so he wrote a library dissertation on an extinct civilization. Murra’s continuing need to support himself financially, his excellent Spanish and good French, and his citizenship problems led him to work in Puerto Rico and Martinique, although he had no special commitment to the Caribbean. Just as he was prevented from going to South America, he was unable to travel to Africa, another continent that interested him. However, once he obtained his United States passport and was free to go anywhere, Murra’s life came more under his own conscious direction. From 1958, when he returned to South America after an absence of sixteen years, he devoted himself almost exclusively to Andean topics, albeit with a comparative perspective. When Murra was able to travel to conferences in Africa he had the opportunity to interact with many European anthropologists, missionaries, and colonial agents, primarily British, French, and Belgian, who had decades of field and administrative experience on that continent. He also may have met Africans studying their own cultures, and other scholars whose university work in the British and French systems had focused exclusively on Africa. In his private writings there are hints that Murra realized that British socio-cultural anthropologists dominated African studies, leaving little room for someone outside their circle. However, until the end of his teaching career he continued - 34 to integrate African material into his classes. He also encouraged Mesoamerican/ Andean comparisons (Murra 1977a, 1982e). Nevertheless, after 1958, with one minor exception (Murra 1964c), Murra never published on Africa, Puerto Rico, or the French Caribbean again except in the context of comparisons with Andean material. He did, however, remain for many years both a member of the International African Institute, and a fellow of the African Studies Association (c.v. Murra, NAA). During the Huánuco Project Murra acquired the deep expertise in Andean cultures for which he was famous during the second half of his life. His new focus allowed him to develop an impressive body of work on the Inca state, or Tawantinsuyu, as he preferred to call it. It was in 1964, during the Huánuco Project, that Murra met his close associate, Craig Morris, then a young archaeologist, and another University of Chicago graduate. Murra and Morris remained friends for the rest of their lives. For some time Morris shared with Murra the responsibility for teaching Andean archaeology and ethnohistory at Cornell University. Poignantly, their obituaries appear side-by-side in the December 2007 issue of the American Anthropologist. During the 1970s and .80s, when Morris would commute from New York City to Ithaca, he would stay in the damp basement of John Murra’s house on 515 Dryden Road near campus, which John Murra occupied from 1971 (purchase contract, Murra, NAA). Murra’s home was a rather dramatic place, with a sun porch that combined ski lodge furniture and life-size murals of figures taken from the early seventeenth century account of the Peruvian Mestizo chronicler Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala painted for him by Freda Wolf’s younger brother. To a large extent Murra lived with and for his work. 35 During the course of the Huánuco Project, Murra was frequently away from the field sites to do archival research, to attend conferences, to consult with psychoanalysts, and to teach. He taught at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos in Lima as a visiting professor of ethnology from 1965 to 1966. Murra described the space and facilities he was given as “lavish”, which contrasts with the sad situation of the university ten or fifteen years later. In 1966, upon leaving, he was made an honorary professor of San Marcos (investiture program, Murra, NAA). In 1965 Murra was a visiting professor of Inca studies at the Universidad de Chile in Santiago. When the Huánuco Project ended he was offered a professorship at the Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán under the same terms as Peruvian professors. Murra did not accept this offer.121 CORNELL UNIVERSITY In 1966-67, after returning from Huánuco, Murra became the first N.S.F. post-doctoral associate in anthropology at the Smithsonian Institution. There he continued his studies of Huanúco and of the Lupaca kingdom of Bolivia. In 1968, after Allan R. Holmberg’s (1909-1966) untimely death had opened a faculty position, Murra was hired by Cornell University, from which he retired in 1982 as a professor emeritus. Murra’s situation as Holmberg’s successor was problematic. Holmberg is best known for the Vicos Project, which he directed. In 1952, with the cooperation of the Peruvian government, Cornell began an innovative development project in northern Peru that continued for some fifteen years. For five years the university leased the highland Vicos Hacienda in the Callejón de Huaylas, approximately 250 miles from Lima. There some 1800 Peruvian Indians had been living in virtual serfdom. The goal was to pro- Barnes: John V. Murra mote modernization and equality by converting Vicos into a semi-autonomous, self-directed community. This was a truly revolutionary effort in applied anthropology. The project immediately attracted criticism from both the political left and right, as well as from the anthropological profession. In 1963, as part of a national land reform program, the workers of Vicos acquired the hacienda. The Vicos Project had served as a model for the Peace Corps, but attitudes towards foreign interventions hardened in the 1960s. The Peace Corps itself was expelled from Vicos in 1965. Although Murra’s friend José María Arguedas had supported the Vicos Project, Murra himself had a far different research agenda, one much more oriented towards understanding the past than ameliorating the present, except through moral encouragement. Nevertheless, assuming Holmberg’s academic line must have created certain expectations Murra was unlikely to fulfill. When I studied at Cornell in the 1980s mention of the Vicos Project still elicited tense reactions from some faculty members. Cornell University’s Koch Library holds extensive records of this project. Murra’s Cornell teaching of undergraduate and graduate students was more advanced and tightly focused than the general instruction in undergraduate anthropology he had given at Vassar. During his last year at Cornell, 1981-82, he offered an ethnohistory course, Anthropology 418, consisting of two parts African material, one quarter Andean topics, and one quarter themes on Siberian ethnography. The African portion examined the dynastic and demotic oral traditions of Rwanda, drawing upon the work of Alexis Kagame,122 122 121 Letter from Ing. Pedro José Cuculiza, Rector, Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Huánuco to John Victor Murra, 10 August 1966, Huánuco files, A.M.N.H. Father Alexis Kagame (1912-1981) was a Rwandan historian, ethnologist, philosopher, priest, and intellectual leader of the Tutsi who articulated their cosmography in contemporary terms compatible with Christianity. He came from a family of court historians who converted to ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Jan Vansina,123 Luc de Heusch,124 and Murra’s old Vassar colleague, Helen Codere. It also covered Ashanti administration and military oral traditions as reported by Kwame Arhin125 and Ivor Wilks.126 Written sources for the Andes Roman Catholicism around the time of World War I. His published works include the multi-volume La divine pastorale (1952-1955), a creation myth and history of the world; Le code des institutions politiques du Rwanda (1952), a defense of Tutsi feudalism, and The Bantu-Rwandese Philosophy of Being (1956). In 1959 the rival Hutu nation violently overthrew Tutsi hegemony, but Kagame survived the bloodbath. 123 Jan Vansina (b. 1929) is an historian and anthropologist specializing in the peoples of Central Africa, especially in their history before European contact. He is a professor emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Among his books are Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology (1965), Kingdoms of the Savannah (1966), Oral Tradition as History (1985), Living with Africa (1994), Antecedents to Modern Rwanda: The Nyiginya Kingdom (2004), and How Societies are Born: Governance in West Africa Before 1600 (2004). 124 Luc de Heusch (b. 1927) is a Belgian ethnographer and film-maker who studied at the Sorbonne in Paris before receiving a doctorate in anthropology from the Université Libre de Bruxelles (1955). Among his films are Fête chez les Hamba (1955), an account of daily life and ritual practice in a village of the Hamba of Kasai; Ruanda: Tableaux d’une féodalité (1956), an historic investigation of Rwandan society; Sur les traces du Renard Pâle (with Jean Rouch and Germaine Dieterlen, 1983), and Une république devenue folle (Rwanda 1894-1994) (1996) in addition to films on Belgian society. From 1955 to 1992 he taught at the Université Libre de Bruxelles, as a full professor from 1960. 125 Kwame Arhin is the editor of Ashanti and the Northwest (with Jack Goody, 1965), Ashanti and the Northeast (1970), The Life and Work and Kwame Nkrumah (1993), and The Cape Coast and Elmina Handbook: Past, Present, and Future (1995) among many other works of a practical nature dealing with politics, economics, land tenure, and history of West Africa. 126 Ivor G. Wilks (b.1928) is a British historian and anthropologist who did field-work in Western Africa (19561996). He taught at the University of Northern Ghana (1953-1966) and at Northwestern University (1971-1993). He is the author of The Northern Factor in Ashanti History - 36 including the accounts by indigenous chroniclers Guaman Poma de Ayala and Blas Valera and administrative, census, and litigation papers were combined with archaeological data. Siberian military and tribute collecting papers and scholarly reports in the fields of ethnohistory and ethnology were used in discussions of ethnogenesis. Murra also taught a course on the history of United States anthropology from Schoolcraft to the death of Benedict which is discussed in Frank Salomon’s contribution to this volume. In addition, Murra taught Anthropology 633, “Andean Research”, a course which emphasized sources other than chronicles. These included a microfilm of Gonzalez de Cuenca’s colonial visita to what is now northern Peru, land and water court records, quipu transcriptions, visitas, Quechua oral traditions recorded in the Huarochirí manuscript, the chronicle of Guaman Poma de Ayala, reports by Domingo de Santo Tomas, better known for his early QuechuaSpanish dictionary, and by Juan Polo de Ondegardo.127 In the 1970s and 1980s Murra drew hundreds of people to his lectures at Johns Hopkins, at San Marcos, in European cities, and at other distinguished venues. However, shortly before retirement he could not always attract even the four or six students he needed to run his advanced seminars at Cornell. Perhaps students were eager to hear him in the relatively anonymous context of a large lecture hall, but did not wish to accept the demands Murra would put upon them in smaller, more specialized classes. (1961), Asante in the Nineteenth Century: The Structure and Evolution of a Political Order (1975), and is an editor of “The History of Ashanti Kings and the Whole Country Itself”, and Other Writings by Otumfuo, Nana Agyeman Prempeh I (with Adu Boahen et al., 2003). 127 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, 26 iii 81, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 37 I believe that Murra had his biggest impact on South American audiences. In both his lectures and his writing he drew upon his extensive knowledge of general anthropology. Many of the key works in this field were unavailable to Latin American scholars both because there were few Spanish-language editions of the English and French classics and because Latin American library resources did not equal those of Europe and the United States (Murra in Rowe 1984: 646). John Murra, however, had the profound insights of many great minds informing his scholarship. Because these insights were not welldiffused throughout the Spanish-speaking world, Murra’s work incorporating them must have seemed double-dazzling. Just as at Vassar, Murra took frequent leaves and many trips of short duration away from Cornell, incidentally transferring many of his teaching, counseling, and administrative responsibilities to other faculty members. In 197071 he taught once again at Yale, replacing his friend Sidney Mintz who was on leave. Judging from published student evaluations, this was not a success. From 1974 on Murra taught at Cornell only in the autumn semester (Murra in Rowe 1984:646). In 1974-75 he was at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey. For part of 1975 he was researching Aymara kingdoms in the Archivo Nacional de Sucre. In 1975-76 he was at the Université de Paris X Nanterre with Fulbright support. Simultaneously, he taught a three-month seminar, “Ethnie et état dans le monde Andin” (Ethnicity and the State in the Andean World) at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, Paris. In the spring of 1976, with Einaudi Foundation support, Murra lectured in Torino, at the Universidad de Sevilla, at the Departamento de Antropología y Etnología de América de la Universidad Complutense (Madrid), at Bonn University, at the London School of Economics, and at Cambridge University. During the last weeks of 1976 and the first weeks of 1977 he visited Bolivia, Lima, Barnes: John V. Murra Mexico, and Tokyo.128 By May he was back in Mexico, at the Centro de Investigaciones Superiores of the Mexican Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.129 Here he encouraged scholars to combine the study of Nahuatl documents with Aztec archaeology.130 In the fall of that year he was in Seville.131 In the fall of 1978 he was once more in Seville,132 but also participated in a conference on páramos in Venezuela (Murra 1979b). In 1978-79 he spent a total of eight months at the Archivo General de Indias. In January 1979 he taught at the Universidad de Antofagasta, Chile, while in June of that year he was in Paris.133 In the spring of 1980 he was doing research in Lima under the auspices of the Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. In 1981 he was at Johns Hopkins University.134 John Murra’s international presence was vast and the time he spent at his home base minimal. Throughout his teaching career, one of John Murra’s concerns was the education of Latin American graduate students. With Ángel Palerm he organized the “Comparative Seminar on MesoAmerica and the Andes” in 1972. The 128 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, 13 February, 1977, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 129 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, 30 May 1977, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 130 Letter from John V. Murra to Toribio Mejía Xesspe, 9 April 1977, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 131 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, 10 October 1977, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 132 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, 30 October 1978, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 133 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, 4 June 1979, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. 134 Letter from John V. Murra to Craig Morris, March 26, 1981, Bird Lab, A.M.N.H. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) next year, he established the “Lake Titicaca Field Project” with prominent Peruvian archaeologist and Marxist theorist Luís Lumbreras and support from the Fulbright Program. Among the participants were Javier Albó, Mónica Checa,135 Freda Wolf, John Hyslop, Augustín Llagostera, Elías Mujica,136 Franklin Pease, Marcela Ríos,137 Mario Rivera,138 and AnaMaría Soldi. “The Lake Titicaca Field Project” was the genesis of John Hyslop’s Columbia doctoral dissertation, An Archaeological Investigation of the Lupaqa Kingdom and its Origins. This, in turn was a first step towards his 1984 book The Inca Road System 135 There is no biographical information available for Mónica Checa. 136 Elías Mujica Barreda (b. 1950) has built a distinguished career in Peruvian archaeology, anthropology, and history. He participated in a variety of projects that have studied the suitability and sustainability of traditional agricultural practices, the ancient Moche, the urban archaeology of Lima and Arequipa, colonial history, and Quechua folk tales. He has dedicated himself to the kind of institutionbuilding advocated by John Murra. Mujíca is Vice-President of the Andean Institute of Archeological Studies (INDEA) and the Deputy Coordinator of the Consortium for the Sustainable Development of the Andean Eco-region (CONDESAN), an Advisor for Cultural Heritage of the Backus Foundation, a member of the Peruvian National Technical Commission for Cultural Heritage, and a World Heritage Center Regional Expert for the monitoring of and regional reporting on the World Heritage in Latin America and the Caribbean. Among his many published books are a series of edited volumes on Moche conferences (with Santiago Uceda), Arqueología de los valles occidentales del area centro sur andina (1990), Perú andino prehispánico (with Rafael Varón); La sostenibilidad de los sistemas de producción campesina en los Andes (with José Luís Rueda, 1997), El brujo: Huaca Cao, centro ceremonial Moche en el Valle de Chicama (with Eduardo Hirose Maio, 2007), and Investigaciones en la Huaca de la Luna . . . (with Santiago Uceda and Ricardo Morales, 2007). 137 Marcela Ríos is the wife of Peruvian archaeologist Luís Guillermo Lumbreras. 138 Mario Rivera is a Chilean archaeologist who received his doctorate from the University of Wisconsin, Madison. He teaches at Beloit College. - 38 (Murra 1994a:2) and the basis of several other publications. In 1977 Murra organized the “Otoño andino”, a semester-long program at Cornell which brought together students and established scholars from both Latin America and the United States. One of Murra’s frustrations at Cornell was that he could not always obtain admission to graduate studies and fellowships for Latin American students whom he considered to possess real talent and personal merit. He seemed to feel that Cornell was not sufficiently flexible in matters of formal admission standards. On the other hand, he sometimes had to teach students whose presence he had not personally approved. LIFE BEYOND CORNELL Murra remained active for more than a decade after his retirement from Cornell. In 1982-83 he was a consultant to the Banco Nacional de Bolivia’s Museo Nacional de Etnografía in La Paz. In 1983-84 he held a Guggenheim Fellowship for research in Spanish archives, including the Archivo Nacional and the Academia de Historia, both in Madrid, and the Archivo de Indias in Seville. Simultaneously he taught at the Universidad Complutense (Madrid), and at the Universidad de Sevilla, as well as at the Institut Català d’Antropologi in Barcelona. He nevertheless found time to teach a summer school course at the University of Chile in 1984 (Castro, this volume). In the next academic year, 1985-86, he was once again a visiting professor at Complutense, at the Universidad de Sevilla, and at the Institut Català d’Antropologi. In the spring of 1987 he was the Suntory-Toyota Visiting Professor at the London School of Economics. In 1987-88 he conducted research at the Instituto de Antropología, Buenos Aires and taught as a visiting professor at the Universidad de Buenos Aires. In 39 1990-91 he was a fellow at the Archivo de Indias. By then most Civil War wounds had healed. John Murra liked to tell the story of a chance encounter he had in a Spanish bar. There he fell into conversation with a fellow veteran, but was unsure whether the man had been a former Nationalist or a former Loyalist. The stranger broke the ice by dramatically and emotionally declaring, “Whichever side you were on, I was your comrade!” It turned out that this unfortunate old soldier meant it literally, not metaphorically. He had been fighting for one side when he was captured by the other and made to fight for it, allowing him the claim that he was a fellow-in-arms with anybody who had fought in the Civil War. During the course of his long life John Murra received many honors. Perhaps the greatest is Peru’s Grand Cross of the Order of the Sun which he was awarded in 1987. In addition to being an Honorary Professor of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Murra was also an Honorary Professor of the Humanities of the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. In 1998 San Marcos again honored him with the academic decoration “Honor al Mérito” and, on the same occasion he received an academic medal from the Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cusco (see Lechtman’s contribution, this volume, group photo, p. 68). Murra was granted an honorary doctorate from the Universitat de Barcelona in 1993. In 1969 he presented the Lewis Henry Morgan139 Lectures at 139 Lewis Henry Morgan (1818-1881) was a lawyer and pioneering anthropologist. He studied at Union College, Schenectady, New York. His residence in the Iroquois territory of upstate New York and contact with his Indian neighbors allowed him to produce his breakthrough account of Iroquois political organization, The League of the Ho-dé-No-sau-nee or Iroquois (1851). He discovered the phenomenon of social kinship systems and systematized worldwide comparisons of kinship in Systems of Consanguinity and Affinity in the Human Family (1870). He modeled a Barnes: John V. Murra the University of Rochester, Rochester, New York. His series was entitled “Reciprocity and Redistribution in Andean Civilizations”. Although these lectures were never published in Murra’s lifetime, Heather Lechtman and Freda Wolf, with a grant from the Reed Foundation, are transcribing the lecture tapes in preparation for publication in the Morgan Lecture series of the University of Chicago (Lechtman, personal communication, 12 June 2009; Lechtman and Wolf, n.d.). At least nine important publications carry John Murra’s name as editor.140 He also exerted his influence by serving on editorial boards including those of Chungará (Arica, Chile), Histórica (Lima, from 1976), Historia Boliviana (Cochabamba), the Revista del Museo Nacional (Lima), and Runa (Buenos Aires). He was an Advisory Editor of the Hispanic American Historical Review (1984-89). He was also a member of the Advisory Board of the Handbook of Latin American Studies published by the Library of Congress. John Murra was active in many professional organizations. He was on the Board of the American Society for Ethnohistory (1962-1969) and was president (1970-1971). Murra was also a councilor of the American Ethnological Society (1961-1964) as well as president (19721973). He was president of the Institute of universal unilinear sequence of “ethnical periods” in Ancient Society . . . (1877) as an attempt to explain the origin of family formations, political regimes, and economies. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels read Morgan towards the end of Marx’s life and chose his model as the cornerstone for Marxist ethnology. Several book length biographies of Morgan have been published. 140 Arguedas 1996; Guaman Poma de Ayala 1980; Murra, editor 1964, 1976, 1991; Ortiz de Zúñiga 1967, 1972; Revel et al. 1978; Rojas Rabiela and Murra 1999. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Andean Research (1977-1983).141 He was nominated for the presidency of the American Anthropological Association in 1982, but not elected. However, he circulated his campaign statement widely, considering it to be an important commentary on the state of anthropology in the United States (Murra 1982f). He was a founding member of the Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and of the Asociación Peruana de Antropología e Historia. He was a member of the the Société des Américanistes de Paris, of the Instituto Indígenista Interamericano (Mexico), and the Sociedad Boliviana de Historia. After his retirement from Cornell John Murra used the Institute of Andean Research as his sole institutional affiliation, although he could have claimed many others. PERSONAL REFLECTIONS ON JOHN VICTOR MURRA Murra’s international experiences, combined with his work in ethnohistory, archaeology, and ethnography helped him to formulate his holistic views of anthropology in general, and Andean studies in particular. To Murra, sub-disciplinary boundaries were invisible. All sources of information, as well as most approaches, were necessary to understand the totality of culture. However, although Murra maintained an impeccable personal appearance, he otherwise showed very little engagement with visual culture. His dissertation contains no illustrations, not even maps which would have been helpful to readers not intimately familiar with the geography of Peru. Of course, at the time Murra was writing, he was embedding his arguments in territory he, himself, had never seen. He discussed the importance and glories of Inca textiles, generally without providing any 141 For a short history of the I.A.R. see Daggett, this volume, pp. 307-314 and J. Alden Mason’s 1967 pamphlet, A Brief History of the Institute of Andean Research, Inc. 19371967. - 40 photographs or line drawings of them. Likewise architecture, one of the universally acknowledged accomplishments of Inca civilization, seems to have interested Murra only in so far as it functioned economically and politically. He never published the vast majority of the plans, drawings, and photographs amassed by his Inca Provincial Life (Huánuco) Project, although he must have known that these would be of great interest to archaeologists. His seemingly poor ability to visualize restricted his full apprehension of Andean culture in subtle ways. It is tempting to make a psychoanalytic interpretation of this hiatus. Murra, the son of a nearly blind mother, was limited in his own visual skills. Likewise, although Murra respected those who focused on the religious, ideological, and symbol systems of the Inca such as Pierre Duviols and R. Tom Zuidema,142 by Murra’s own 142 Reiner Tom Zuidema (b. 1927) began his studies at the University of Leiden with the intention of joining the civil service of the former Netherlands’ Indies (Indonesia). However, in 1949 the Dutch government recognized the independence of Indonesia, so Zuidema shifted his focus to anthropology. From 1951 to 1953 he resided in Spain, preparing his doctoral dissertation on problems of social organization in the Inca empire. He then completed three years of field-work and archival studies in Peru, in the United States, and at Spain’s Archivo de Indias. From 1956 to 1964 he was curator of the South American, North American, and Siberian collections of the State Museum of Anthropology of the Netherlands. From 1964 to 1967 he taught anthropology at the Universidad de San Cristóbal de Huamanga in Ayacucho, Peru, conducting field-work there with his students. From 1967 until his retirement in 1993 he was a professor of anthropology at the University of Illinois, Urbana. At both Huamanga and Illinois he was an inspiring teacher who educated many successful students. Most of his publications examine Inca culture, kinship, and social organization in relation to ritual, mythology, art, and concepts of time. Although often declared by others to be a structuralist, Zuidema’s personal perspective is that, so much as possible, he studies the Incas on their own terms. His book, The Ceque System of Cuzco (1964) introduced a new paradigm to Inca studies. 41 admission he found it difficult to comprehend such approaches (see Castro, this volume, p. 7577). He showed little interest in music, poetry, aesthetics, or ritual, except in so far as these revealed social and economic structure. This is striking given his devotion to Freudian psychoanalysis with its emphasis on symbols. Murra’s work does not employ statistics or any of the “hard” sciences directly, although he saw the value of scientific approaches and appreciated the importance of human ecology. Murra stressed the need to let the wishes and perspectives of people in the Andean countries guide research. By the time I had the opportunity for private conversations with Murra I had already done field-work in remote Mestizo and Quechua communities of Ecuador and Peru. I imagined that John was urging me to reach out to the “la gente humilde”, everyday folk, perhaps unlettered and monolingual in Quechua or Aymara, poor, and without a public voice, but knowledgeable in their world-views and the ways of their cultures. I thought Murra was asking researchers to integrate the cosmologies, politics, aspirations, practices, and needs of these Andeans into research plans and grant proposals. I believed that he was advocating a search for alternatives to Western science and its methodology and underlying assumptions. From experience I realized how difficult this would be, even for ethnographers. Although Murra did not admit this to me, he, too, understood the problems from the perspective of his own fieldwork. I believe that he considered the willingness and ability to spend long periods of time in constructive interaction with ordinary local people to be a crucial test, and one that he, himself, had perhaps failed. Later I learned from the lives and work of Thomas Abercrombie,143 143 Thomas Alan Abercrombie (b. 1951) received a B.G.S. from the University of Michigan (1973), and an M.A. (1978) and Ph.D. from the University of Chicago (1986). He is an anthropologist and ethnohistorian who Barnes: John V. Murra Denise Y. Arnold144 and Juan de Dios Yapita,145 Clark Erickson, Chris and Ed Franquemont (Peters Andean Past 8), Tristan Platt, Matthias Strecker,146 and Gary Urton,147 among others, that an integration of science and non-scientific world views was, indeed, sometimes partially possible. However, at the time of my conversations with Murra, I also saw it as the has done field-work among Aymara-speaking people as well as extensive research in Spanish colonial archives. He is Associate Professor of Anthropology and Director for the Center of Latin American and Caribbean Studies at New York University. He is the author of Pathways of Memory and Power: Ethnography and History among an Andean People (1998). 144 Denise Y. Arnold is an anthropologist who has, for many years, worked within Aymara culture, along with her partner, Juan de Dios Yapita. She is the director of the Instituto de Lengua y Cultura Aymara, La Paz, Bolivia. Among her recent books with Yapita are River of Fleece, River of Song (2001), and The Metamorphosis of Heads: Textual Struggles, Education, and Land in the Andes (2006). Another of her recent books is Heads of State: Icons, Power, and Politics in the Andes (with Christine Ann Hastorf, 2008). 145 Juan de Dios Yapita Moya is an Aymara anthropologist, linguist, and poet who often works with his partner Denise Y. Arnold (see note 144). 146 Matthias Strecker (b. 1950) is a German-Bolivian teacher who has dedicated himself to the preservation of Bolivia’s cultural patrimony, especially its rock art. He is the editor of numerous publications of the Sociedad de Investigación del Arte Rupestre de Bolivia (SIARB). 147 Gary Urton (b. 1946) received a B.A. from the University of New Mexico (1969), and an M.A. (1971) and Ph.D. (1979) from the University of Illinois. For many years he taught anthropology at Colgate University, but is now the Dumbarton Oaks Professor of Pre-Columbian Studies at Harvard University. He conducted field-work at Pacariqtambo near Cusco, Peru. On the basis of that research he published At the Crossroads of the Earth and Sky: An Andean Cosmology (1981). For over a decade he has been regarded as one of the world’s experts on the quipu. On that topic he has published Signs of the Inca Khipu: Binary Coding in the Andean Knotted-String Records (2003) among other works. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 42 political and quasi-mystical vocation that it indeed is. As I got to know John Murra better I also realized that the Andean people he often had in mind were established intellectuals like José María Arguedas or Franklin Pease who did set much of their country’s research agendas. produced for the Handbook of Latin American Studies (Murra 1967c, 1970b, 1972b, 1974b, 1976c, 1978d, 1980a, 1982c). John Murra held the keys to many doors, as I discovered when he wrote my letter of introduction to the Archivo de Indias in Seville. One of Murra’s very great personal strengths was that he was willing to change course abruptly when he realized mistakes. He repudiated Communism forever when he understood the discordance between its ideology of a better world and the cruel behavior of its Russian leaders. Once he saw from face-to-face contact at conferences how deeply versed the British sociocultural anthropologists were in African knowledge, he knew he couldn’t match them and no longer presented himself as a public expert on Africa. However, by the time the Huánuco Project was finished he had developed true expertise in Andean cultures and he was the John Murra who became famous in that field. Murra’s lecture style was outwardly confident, elliptical, and even cryptic. He would often make statements like, “. . . as Arguedas said . . .” and students would have to figure out that he meant José María Arguedas, the Peruvian anthropologist, indigenista novelist, and poet, not Alcides Arguedas (1879-1948), the Bolivian statesman, diplomat, historian, and indigenista novelist whose life overlapped in time with José María’s. This was very difficult in the days before the Internet. Murra was impatient with direct questions. Students were just supposed to know that “the Lake” was Titicaca, not Poopó or Cayuga and prove themselves worthy of his attention through their knowledge of Andean cultures and their dedication to them. In this respect those born into such cultures clearly had the advantage. Although Murra advocated a broad, internationalist anthropology, he privileged the study of one’s own culture, perhaps without intending to do so, while divorcing himself from the subculture into which he, himself, had been born (see Salomon, this volume, p. 97). At the risk of tedium, I have included many footnotes with this biography, making explicit the identities and accomplishments of people Murra referenced only vaguely. The difficulty of this task convinced me of its necessity. Murra was well-integrated into the Andeanist communities of South America, Europe, and the United States. His circle can be reconstructed not just from the friends and colleagues he mentioned in interviews, and from his voluminous correspondence in the Smith-sonian National Anthropological Archives and elsewhere, but by noting the many reviews and comments he published.148 Murra was generally an appreciative reviewer except when he encountered films aimed at a popular audience. His reflections on the relative merits of contributions to ethnohistorical literature can be found in the series of annotated biographies he 148 Murra1951a, 1954a, 1954b, 1955b, 1955c, 1956d, 1958c, 1959a, 1959b, 1960b, 1960c, 1964c, 1965, 1966c, 1967e, 1968c, 1969, 1970c, 1970d, 1970e, 1973, 1974c, 1975b, 1975c, 1976e, 1976d, 1977b, 1977c, 1977d, 1978e, 1978f, 1978g, 1978h, 1979d, 1980a, 1981b, 1981c, 1982c, 1982d, 1982e, 1983a, 1983c, 1984a, 1984c, 1985d, 1985e, 1988c, 1988d, 1988e, 1989b, 1990, 1993a, 1993b, 1994b, 1994c, 1996a, 1996b; Murra and Wachtel 1998. Murra maintained a good personal library. Towards the end of his life he divided his books to be sent to Latin America. Then, as now, theft from Latin American public and university libraries was a problem. I asked Murra if it bothered him that many of his books would not remain where they were sent, but would disappear into private collections. He gave me 43 one of his sphinx-like smiles. He assured me that anyone who would appropriate his books would be someone who would appreciate them. He then gave me a few duplicates for my own private library with his signature and good wishes. He encouraged scholarship in many ways and had a fine sense of irony. Murra sometimes wrote about the anthropologists he knew personally, enhancing our understanding of their lives. Murra’s greatest contribution along these lines was his publication of letters to him, and to their mutual psychoanalyst Lola Hoffmann, by José María Arguedas (Arguedas 1996; see also Murra 1978e and 1983a). Murra first met Arguedas in 1958 at a conference during which he also met historians María Rostworowski and Franklin Pease. Reading Arguedas’ letters is a haunting experience. One perceives him slipping deeper and deeper into a depression which, in those preProzac days, could not be interrupted, in spite of the efforts of Arguedas and his physicians. One knows the sad ending in advance. Murra also published an appreciation of Julio C. Tello149 (Murra 1980b) and an obituary of his close associate in the Institute of Andean Research, John Hyslop (Murra 1994a). 149 Julio César Tello (1880-1947) was one of the founders of Peruvian archaeology. In spite of a humble background he obtained a bachelor’s degree in medicine in Peru (1909) and then studied at Harvard where he earned an M.A. in anthropology (1911). Tello was an energetic field worker who discovered the famous Paracas mummy bundles in 1925, and also identified the Chavín culture. Between 1917 and 1929 he represented his native district of Huarochirí in the Peruvian national congress. He founded the Museo de Arqueología y Etnología of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos and the Museo de Arqueología Peruana. Chapters in the life of Julio C. Tello as reconstructed by Richard Daggett have appeared in Andean Past 1, 4, and 8. Tello communicated his findings mainly through a series of newspaper articles, especially in Lima’s El Comercio. His articles have been collected in The Life and Writings of Julio C. Tello (2009), edited by Richard L. Burger. Tello is also the author of Paracas (1959). Barnes: John V. Murra My first encounter with John Murra was at the London School of Economics when he lectured there in 1976. His presence created buzz, and a large number of people assembled to hear the famous intellectual expound. Murra’s talk was highly specialized and tightly focused, with no compromises made toward his audience. It was obvious that some people had come expecting a more general presentation, but were trapped in the intricacies of vertical archipelagos and household inventories of four hundred years before. It was impossible to leave, with eager academics standing in every space not occupied by a chair. A few people at the back of the large room began unobtrusively to pass the time by reading books and newspapers held on their laps. Most speakers would have ignored this, but John Murra demanded everyone’s full attention whenever he spoke. He turned adults into recalcitrant and embarrassed schoolboys by telling them to put away their books or leave. On the other hand, if Murra himself was bored by a lecture, he did not hesitate to convey that to the speaker. At one of the Northeast Conferences on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory, a student had lost control of his presentation and was talking beyond his allotted time. Although he was neither the organizer nor the moderator, Murra began clapping loudly, slowly, and rhythmically, completely humiliating the student. Murra could be fearsome, indeed, and few had the force of personality to withstand him. One of my regrets in life is that although I studied in two of the places Murra taught, our time in those places did not overlap much, if at all. When I first came to Cornell in 1966 as a high school advanced placement student Murra had not yet arrived there and I had not yet developed an interest in the Andean countries. When I returned to Cornell eighteen years later he had already retired, although he was still quite a Presence in Ithaca, and on campus during his relatively rare visits. He would, ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) however, usually participate in Cornell projects and events, if expressly invited to do so. He was a gracious moderator at the Fifth Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory, held at Cornell in 1986, and contributed to Andean Past 4. The trajectory of John Murra’s life has been eloquently set out elsewhere, both in his own words, and in those of others. At least nine interviews of Murra have been published, broadcast, recorded, or posted on the Internet.150 One, Castro et al., is book length. Other details of Murra’s life can be gleaned from Arguedas’ letters to him (Arguedas 1996) and from tributes published during Murra’s lifetime (Castro et al. 2002; Contreras 1993; Henderson and Netherley 1993; Lorandi et al. 2003; Neira 2006; Raczynski 1995; Vásquez 1970; Vega 1983) as well as from the many appreciative obituaries written in his memory.151 Salomon’s tribute, in particular, is an insightful summary of Murra’s intellectual contributions to anthropology. Readers should also not miss Comrades (1998), Harry Fisher’s memoir of the Spanish Civil War, which contains many admiring recollections of Murra. At least a couple of denunciations of Murra have also been published (Anon. n.d. [c. 1950]; Condarco 1977). In spite of all that has been written about John V. Murra, an original book length biography remains possible, and I have begun that task. In it I am making use of the richness of Murra’s personal and professional papers which are now part of the Smithsonian Institution’s National Anthropological Archives. These include the 150 Ansaldi and Calderón 1989; Castro et al. 2000; Gerassi 1980; Harriman 1983; Hermosa n.d.; Ipiña 1976; Rowe 1984; de Siles 1983; Wolf 1966. 151 Albó and Bubba 2007, Anonymous 2006a, 2006b, 2006c, 2006d, 2007e; Gleach et al., Harris 2006; Hevesi 2006; Neira 2006; Salomon 2007, also forthcoming in an edition of Formaciones edited by Jacques Poloni-Simard. - 44 bulk of his correspondence and his diaries. The latter reveal his second abiding intellectual passion after Andean studies–psychoanalysis. More than anything else, they demonstrate that John Murra was, as Wordsworth wrote of Isaac Newton in “The Prelude”, “a mind forever voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone”. For years I sought to understand John Murra’s transition from young Communist activist to anthropologist, scholar, and sage, but without success. It was only over the course of writing this biography that I realized that from youth to old age he seems to have been drawn into the deep river of utopian thought, a stream that runs from Plato to Thomas More, to nineteenth century Welsh socialist Robert Owen, to Karl Marx and the Marxists, to the Quechua utopia of José María Arguedas, and to the psychotherapeutic commune of Saul B. Newton. The abandonment of Communism did not end Murra’s longings for an ideal society, or rather, for ideal societies. Like other utopians Murra sometimes produced authoritative work before he had experienced the facts on the ground. Inca culture has long served as a template for utopian thinkers such as Garcilaso de la Vega, el Inga in the early seventeenth century, Voltaire in the eighteenth, and Philip Ainsworth Means in the first half of the twentieth. Around the time that Means wrote Fall of the Inca Empire . . . (1932), anthropology was suggesting new models for living, with its insistence on cultural relativism and its explorations of cultural diversity. Murra’s attraction to the Incas seems quite natural in terms of his utopian vision. At the same time, anthropology helped Murra appreciate the thousands of possible solutions to human problems. Murra learned to identify, elucidate, and praise the Andean approaches to those problems. Eventually he came to admit that his 45 enthusiasm for the Andean world probably bordered on exaggeration, but he did not lose his faith in the overall importance of Andean contributions to culture. The Communist stepped to one side, but the AnthropologistAdvocate took his place. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AND AN INTRODUCTION Because Murra’s life story has already been well told by others, I realized that to add to the narrative already established I would need not only to draw upon my own experiences, recollections, impressions, and interpretations, but also to channel the spirit of John Murra himself by conducting some original archival research. Partial records of John Murra’s Civil War experiences and of the Fear and Courage Under Fire Project can be found in New York University’s Tamiment Library & Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives. I thank the librarians there for granting me access. Ghostly footprints of Murra’s time at Vassar College remain there, and I thank Dean Rogers of The Catherine Pelton Durrell ’25 Archives and Special Collections Library, Vassar College, and Lucy Lewis Johnson and Terri Lynn Cronk of the Vassar Anthropology Department for helping me discern them. Clifford Sather and I shared memories of Vassar in the 1960s and ’70s. Heather Lechtman worked with me to mesh her memories with the documentary evidence. Harriett Davis Haritos and Nan Rothschild also gave me their perspectives as Murra’s Vassar students. Lechtman, along with Andean Past board member Richard L. Burger facilitated my access to Institute of Andean Research records at the Anthropology Division of the American Museum of Natural History. Paul Beelitz and Alex Lando of the A.M.N.H. assisted my access. Sumru Aricanli graciously made available John Barnes: John V. Murra Murra’s Huánuco Project files, Craig Morris’ files of letters, articles, and unpublished papers by John Murra, and John Hyslop’s file of letters and articles by Murra, all at the A.M.N.H.’s Junius B. Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology. The cover photograph of this issue of Andean Past and the one accompanying the bibliogaphy of works by and about John Victor Murra come from the A.M.N.H. My discovery of the Cooper Family Files at the Brooklyn Historical Society was entirely fortuitous. Robert S. Leopold, Director, Smithsonian Institution, National Museum of Natural History, National Anthropological Archives and Leanda Gahegan, Archivist made my research there a valuable and enjoyable experience. As Marcus Porcius Cato the Censor wrote more than two millennia ago, “Pabulum aridum quod consideris in hiemem quam maxime conservato, cogitatoque hiemis quam longa siet.”152 Jacinta Palerm shared childhood recollections of John Murra and her father, Ángel Palerm. Laura Rand Orthwein/Laura Murra/Laura X confirmed details of her relationship with John Murra. I am grateful to Jesús Contreras Hernándes, William M. Denevan, Pierre Duviols, Jorge Hidalgo, Antoinette Molinié, Pierre Morlon, Elías Mujíca, Juan Ossio, Ann Peters, Tristran Platt, Frank Salomon, and Tom Zuidema for providing me with autobiographical information. Eugene B. Bergmann, Alita and Alec Kelley, Daniel J. Slive, and Freda Wolf were also of enormous assistance in the preparation of this biography. I thank Junie Valhund for her cheerful companionship. My fellow editor Daniel H. Sandweiss helped me imagine Murra in his teaching days at Cornell. I am grateful to Thomas F. Lynch for letting me borrow some of 152 “Keep as much dry fodder as possible for winter and remember how long winter lasts” (loose translation by the author). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) his insight. Ellen FitzSimmons Steinberg joined the search for references. It was Ellie Schrum who pointed out that Murra did not adhere to old mistakes. My husband and fellow editor David Fleming participated in, and supported, my research and suggested many good leads. In many ways Dick Daggett’s serial biography of Julio C. Tello, published in earlier issues of Andean Past, has inspired my approach to this biography of John V. Murra. It was Dick who showed me that truth resides in the details. Josephine P. Meeker taught me the value of constructing a time-line as a tool to understanding. If David Block had not spontaneously sent me a draft of what became our bibliography of works by and about John Murra I could never have begun the research for this appreciation of Murra’s life and work. I also owe a debt to John Murra himself. I believe that by depositing his papers in the Smithsonian, Murra invited biographical scrutiny. I think he showed implicit approval of such projects by publishing, late in his life, both the Arguedas letters and a book length interview of himself (Castro et al. 2000). While I have worked hard to establish and confirm the time-line and connections of John Murra’s life, I have felt free to indulge myself by relating anecdotes and to write about John Murra’s writing and teaching, and to make certain leaps of interpretation. I hope that my tribute will serve as a good introduction to the rest of our special section on Murra which emphasizes his place as a mentor. This is among the most important roles scholars assume and some of their most penetrating insights are often conveyed during classes, and in private consultations, but are seldom recorded for posterity. For instance, in the fields of philosophy, jurisprudence, and Hispanic studies, Francisco de Vitoria (1492 [?]-1546) exemplifies both the importance and the elusiveness of teaching. - 46 Vitoria was a Dominican priest who taught at Salamanca, Spain for many years. Credited with developing the important concepts of both natural law and international law, and a defender of the rationality of Amerindians, Vitoria influenced many people, including King Charles V of Spain and Bartolomé de las Casas, the Indians’ great advocate. Nevertheless, Vitoria’s ideas are only known to us through the books of his students. Although Murra published widely during his lifetime, he did not publish everything he wished. Frank Salomon is able to convey some of Murra’s ideas which, otherwise, would fade with human memory–Murra’s thoughts on the history of American anthropology as revealed in his courses, classes described in his published interviews (Castro et al. 2000:80-83) but never converted into a book by Murra himself. In addition, Rolena Adorno, Victoria Castro, Inge Harman, Heather Lechtman, AnaMaría Lorandi, Patricia Netherly, Silvia Palomeque, and Freda Wolf de Romero share Murra’s impact as a mentor of women, collectively presenting a remarkably coherent portrait. Complementing all this is a bibliography of works by, in honor of, and about John Murra which David Block and I have compiled. Its length, breadth, and complexity serve as an approximation of John Murra’s scholarship. In addition to appearing in this volume of Andean Past, an earlier version will be part of the French language translation of Formaciones, Murra’s pioneering collection of articles on Andean culture. I hope that this special section of Andean Past dedicated to the memory of John Victor Murra will stimulate fresh thought on the cultural dynamics of the Andean region to which he dedicated most of his adult life. 47 - Barnes: John V. Murra John Victor Murra instructs Vassar College anthropology class in Blodgett Hall, c. 1960. The student second from the viewer’s right is Laura Rand Orthwein/Laura Murra/Laura X. Photo by Howard Green, Poughkeepsie, New York courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution, National Museum of Natural History, National Anthropological Archives. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) BIBLIOGRAPHY - 48 OF WORKS BY, IN HONOR OF, AND 1 ABOUT JOHN VICTOR MURRA BOOKS, ARTICLES, AND REVIEWS Collier, Donald and John Victor Murra 1943 Survey and Excavations in Southern Ecuador. Chicago: Field Museum of Natural History Anthropological Series 35, Publication 528. Also published in Spanish as Reconocimientos y excavaciones en el sur del Ecuador. Cuenca: Centro de Estudios Históricos y Geográficos de Cuenca (1982); and as Reconocimientos y excavaciones en el austro ecuatoriano (2007). Cuenca: Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana, Nucleo del Azuay. Condarco Morales, Ramiro and John Victor Murra 1987 La teoría de la complementariedad vertical ecosimbiótica. La Paz: Hisbol. Series Breve Biblioteca del Bolsillo 2. Contains Murra’s essays, El “control vertical” de un máximo de pisos ecológicos en la economía de las sociedades andinas, pp. 2985 (Murra 1972a) and “El Archipiélago vertical” revisitado, pp. 87-104 (Murra 1985c). 1 Bibliographers’ note: We have not been able to include all of John Victor Murra’s writings of which we are aware. For example, we have not located the articles on soccer and the literary pieces he published in the Romanian-language periodical Dimineata during the 1930s (Castro et al. 2000: 22, 24). We have also not been able to find the periodical articles and speeches Murra said he wrote on behalf of unnamed African leaders (ibid: 96). During the 1950s Murra contributed regularly to The United States Quarterly Book List published by Rutgers University Press for the Library of Congress. However, it is not possible to identify the individual reviews that Murra wrote. When page numbers or other details are omitted it is because articles were discovered in clipping files in The Catherine Pelton Durrell ’25 Archives and Special Collections Library, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York; in the archives of the Anthropology Division of the American Museum of Natural History, New York City; or in the Smithsonian’s National Anthropological Archives, Suitland, Maryland without such details recorded. We thank Rolena Adorno, Sumru Aricanli, Richard E. Daggett, Jean-Jacques Decoster, Pierre Duviols, David Fleming, Leanda Gahegan, Heather Lechtman, Robert S. Leopold, Dean Rogers, Deborah Santeliz-Lockwood, Daniel J. Slive, Frank Soloman, Ellen Fitz Simmons Steinberg, and the staff of New York University’s Tamiment Library & Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives for assistance in the preparation of this bibliography. Lechtman, Heather and Freda Wolf, editors n.d. [in preparation] Reciprocity and Redistribution in Andean Civilizations. Lewis Henry Morgan Lectures presented at the University of Rochester, 1969. Chicago, Illinois: University of Chicago Press, Lewis Henry Morgan Lecture Series. Murra, John Victor 1942 Cerro Narrío and Andean Chronology. M.A. Thesis, University of Chicago. 1946 The Historic Tribes of Ecuador. In Handbook of South American Indians, edited by Julian H. Steward. Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 143, Volume 2, The Andean Civilizations, pp. 785-881. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office. 1948 The Cayapa and the Colorado. In Handbook of South American Indians, edited by Julian H. Steward. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 143, Volume 4, pp. 277-291, plates 57-60. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office. 1951a Review of The Puerto Rican Journey: New York’s Newest Migrants by C. Wright Mills, Clarence Senior, and Rose Kohn Goldsen. Hispanic American Historical Review 31(4):680-681. 1951b Land Legislation of the Cameroons Under British Administration. United Nations Document T/AC.36/L.3. Mimeographed. 1951c Land Legislation of the Trust Territories of Togoland and the Cameroons under French Administration. United Nations Document T/AC. 36/L.6. Mimeographed. 1951d Land Legislation of Togoland under British Administration. United Nations Document T/AC.36/L.11. Mimeographed. 1951e Land Legislation of Tanganyika. United Nations Document T/AC.36/L.12. Mimeographed. 1951f Population, Land Categories, and Tenure in Tanganyika. United Nations Document T/ AC.36/L.17. Mimeographed. 1951g Constitutional Developments in Tanganyika, 1949-1951. United Nations Special Document Prepared for 1951 East African Visiting Mission. 1954a Review of The Struggle for Africa by Vernon Bartlett. American Anthropologist 56(6):11561157. 1954b The Unconscious of a Race. Review of The Palmwine Drinkard [sic] and My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, both by Amos Tutola. The Nation, September 25, 179(13):261-262. 1955a Trusteeship System: How it Operates. The Nation, January 1, 180(1):10-13. 1955b Puerto Rico: New Immigrant, Old Story, Murra Views Questions and Dilemmas Involved in Puerto Rican Migration. Vassar Miscellany News, October 5, 40(3):3. 49 1955c 1955d 1955e 1955f 1955g 1955h 1956a 1956b 1956c 1956d 1957a 1957b 1958a Block and Barnes: John V. Murra An African Autobiography. Review of The Dark Child by Camara Laye. The Nation, January 1, 180(1):16-17. Puerto Rican Myths. Review of Transformation: The Story of Modern Puerto Rico by Earl Parker Hanson. The Nation, February 26, 180(9):181182. Reply to Damned with Faint Praise, a letter by Frances R. Grant in response to Murra. The Nation, March 26, 180(13):275-276. Correction: Drinking Tubes on Archaeological Vessels from Western South America. American Antiquity 20(3):288. United Nations Publications Obtainable from the Columbia University Press. Booknotes. The Nation, January 22, 180(4):79. Books on Africa. Booknotes. The Nation, January 29, 180(5):106. The Economic Organization of the Inca State. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago. This was first published in 1978 as La organización económica del estado inca, translated by Daniel H. Wagner and modified by the author. México: Siglo Veintiuno, América Nuestra series 11. This work appears as four subsequent editions by Siglo Veintiuno, as well as in an English language edition, The Economic Organization of the Inka State. Greenwich, Connecticut: JAI Press (1980). The Rumanian-language edition, Civilizatie inca: Organizarea economic| statuli incas, translated by John Murra’s sister, Ata Iosifescu. (Bucharest: Editura Ôtintificä Ôi Enciclopedicä, 1987), includes additional material from Murra’s published articles. Material from the English language version is included in Human Relations Area Files, Inka: Outline of World Cultures codes SE13 and SE80 (an Internet resource). Kenya and the Emergency. Current History 30(177):372-378. Murra Sees Here Egg-head Culture. Vassar Chronicle, March 5, 24:4, 6. Review of Man and Land in Peru by Thomas R. Ford. American Anthropologist 58(5):930-931. Studies in Family Organization in the French Caribbean. Transactions of the New York Academy of Sciences (series II) 19(4):372-378. Discussion [of Raymond T. Smith’s The Family in the Caribbean] in Caribbean Studies: A Symposium, edited by Vera D. Rubin, pp. 75-79. Mona, St. Andrews, Jamaica, British West Indies: Institute of Social and Economic Research, University College of the West Indies. On Inca Political Structure. In Systems of Political Control and Bureaucracy in Human Societies, edited by Verne F. Ray, pp. 30-41. Seattle: 1958b 1958c 1958d 1959a American Ethnological Society. Also distributed as a reprint and reprinted as On Inca Political Structure. Bobbs-Merrill Reprint Series in the Sciences, A-169. Indianapolis, Indiana: BobbsMerrill (1958); also published in Comparative Political Systems: Studies in the Politics of Preindustrial Societies, edited by Ronald Cohen and John Middleton, pp. 339-353. Austin: University of Texas Press (1967). A revised Spanish language version, En torno a la estructura política de los inka, appears in Murra (1975a), pp. 23-43. An unauthorized Spanish language version appears in El Modo de producción asiático: Antología de textos sobre problemas de la historia de los paises coloniales, edited by Roger Bartra. México: Ediciones Era (1969). La función del tejido en varios contextos sociales y políticos. Actas y Trabajos del Segundo Congreso de Historia del Perú, Volume 2, pp. 215-240, Also published as a reprint (1961); and in 100 años de arqueología en el Perú, edited by Rogger Ravines, pp. 583-608 (1970). The latest updated version appears in Fuentes e Investigaciones para la Historia del Perú 3:145-170. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos, Petróleos del Perú edition (1978); in Arte mayor de los Andes: Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino, by Paulina Brugnoli and Soledad Hoces, edited by Julie Palma, with photographs by Fernando Maldonado, and translation by Cecilia Contreras and Barbara Caces, pp. 9-19. Santiago de Chile: El Museo (1989); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 153-170. This article was originally based on Chapter 4 of Murra (1956a). An English language version was published as Cloth and its Functions in the Inca State. American Anthropologist 64(4):710-728 (1962) Murra previously updated the English language version for Cloth and Human Experience, edited by Annette B. Weiner and Jane Schneider, pp. 275302. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press (1989). See also Cloth, Textile, and the Inca Empire in The Peru Reader: History, Culture, Politics, edited by Orin Starn, Carlos Iván Degregori, and Robin Kirk, pp. 55-69. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press (1995). Review of The Ancient Civilizations of Peru by J. Alden Mason. American Anthropologist 60(4):767-768. Wonderful Week’s Bouquet. The Nation, May 31 180(22):484. Up to the Slums. Review of Up from Puerto Rico by Elena Padilla and of Island in the City by Dan Wakefield. The Nation, May 2,188(18):411-412. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Review of Power and Property in Inca Peru by Sally Falk Moore. American Sociological Review 27(5):727. 1960a Rite and Crop in the Inca State. In Culture in History: Essays in Honor of Paul Radin, edited by Stanley Diamond, pp. 33-47. New York: Published for Brandeis University by Columbia University Press. A revised version was published in Peoples and Cultures of South America: An Anthropological Reader, edited by Daniel R. Gross, pp. 377-389. Garden City, New York: Doubleday and Natural History Press (1973). A revised Spanish language version, La papa, el maíz y los ritos agrícolas del Tawantinsuyu, was published in Amaru 8:58-62 (1968); in Murra (1975a), pp. 45-58; in Cosmos, hombre y sacralidad: Lecturas dirigidas de antropología religiosa, edited by Marco Vinicio Rueda and Segundo Moreno Yáñez, pp.181-193. Quito: Departamento de Antropología PUCE and Ediciones Abya Yala (1995); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 143-152. 1960b Review of Power and Property in Inca Peru by Sally Falk Moore. American Anthropologist 62(6):1082-1083 [This review differs from Murra 1959b]. 1960c Review of The Incas by Pedro Cieza de León, edited by Victor Wolfgang von Hagen and translated by Harriet de Onis. The Hispanic American Historical Review 40(2):281-282. 1961a Guaman Poma de Ayala: A Seventeenth-Century Indian’s Account of Andean Civilization. Natural History 70(7):35-46 and Guaman Poma de Ayala: The Post-Conquest Chronicle of the Inca State’s Rise and Fall 70(8):52-63, separately titled parts of a unified article. A Spanish language version was published in Murra (2002a), pp. 375-425. 1961b Social Structural and Economic Themes in Andean Ethnohistory. Anthropological Quarterly 34(2):47-59. Also published as a reprint. A Spanish language version, Temas de estructura social y económica en la etnohistoria y el antiguo folklore andino, was published in Folklore Americano 10:22-237 (1962); and in La etnohistoria en Mesoamérica y los Andes, edited by Pedro Carrasco Pizana, Juan Manuel Pérez Zevallos, and José Antonio Pérez Gollán, pp. 95-111. Mexico, D.F.: Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Historia (1987). An expanded version was published in Cuadernos de Investigación: Antropología (Huánuco, Perú, Universidad Hermilio Valdizán, 1966). 1962 An Archaeological “Restudy” of an Andean Ethnohistorical Account. American Antiquity. 28(1):1-4. An expanded, Spanish language - 50 1959b 1964a 1964b 1964c 1965 1966a 1966b 1966c 1967a 1967b 1967c version was published in Cuadernos de Investigación: Antropología (Universidad Hermilio Valdizán, Huánuco, Perú, 1966). Una apreciación etnológica de la visita. In Visita hecha a la provincia de Chucuito por Garci Diez de San Miguel en el año 1567 by Garci Diez de San Miguel, edited by John Victor Murra, pp. 421444. Lima: Casa de la Cultura del Perú. Rebaños y pastores en la economía del Tawantinsuyu. Revista Peruana de Cultura 2:76101. Also published in Murra (1975a), pp. 117144; and in Murra (2002a), pp. 309-327. An English language version, Herds and Herders in the Inca State, was published in Man, Culture, and Animals: The Role of Animals in Human Ecological Adjustments, edited by Anthony Leeds and A. P. Vayda, pp. 185-215. Washington: American Association for the Advancement of Science (1965). Also distributed as a reprint. Review of The Sonjo of Tanganyika: An Anthropological Study of an Irrigation-based Society by Robert F. Gray. American Anthropologist 66(2): 471-472. Review of Los obrajes en el Virreinato del Perú by Fernando Silva-Santisteban. American Anthropologist 67(5, part 1):1329-1330. El Instituto de Investigaciones Andinas y sus estudios en Huánuco, 1963-1966. Cuadernos de Investigación: Antropolgía, pp. 7-21 (Huánco, Perú, Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán). New Data on Retainer and Servile Populations in Tawantinsuyu. In XXXVI Congreso Internacional de Americanistas, España. 1964, Actas y Memorias. Volume 2, pp. 35-45 (Seville). An updated Spanish language version, Nueva información sobre las poblaciones yana, was published in Murra (1975a), pp. 225-242; in Murra (2002a), pp. 328-340; and as Nuevos datos sobre las poblaciones yana en el Tawantinsuyo. Antropología Andina 1-2:13-33 (Cusco, 1976). Review of Life, Land, and Water in Ancient Peru by Paul Kosok. American Anthropologist 68(5):1306-1307. A Spanish language version published in Revista Peruana de Cultura, 7-8:270273 (1966). Nota preliminar sobre el manuscrito de la visita de los chupachu y la transcripción usada en la presente edición. In Ortiz de Zúñiga (1967), pp. v-ix. La visita de los chupachu como fuente etnológica. In Ortiz de Zúñiga (1967), pp. 381-406. Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 29:200-213. 51 1967d 1967e 1968a 1968b 1968c 1969 1970a 1970b Block and Barnes: John V. Murra L’Étude de Huánuco: Une experience inter-disciplinaire. Études Latino-Américaines 3:241-246. Faculté des Lettres, Aix-en-Provence, France. Review of films Aspects of Land Ownership and Land Use in the Rural Community of Montero, produced by the Land Tenure Center, University of Wisconsin; Market at La Paz, Patterns of Living and Land Use at Vilaque and near Lake Titicaca, producer unknown; and Campesinos and Farming on Isla del Sol: Annual Market Days at Casani (Peru-Bolivia Border), producer unknown. American Anthropologist 69(6):792. An Aymara Kingdom in 1567. Ethnohistory 15(2):115-151. Included in Human Relations Area Files, Aymara Kingdoms: Outline of World Cultures SF50 (electronic resource). A Spanish language version was published in Murra (1975a), pp. 193-224; and in Murra (2002a), pp. 183-207. An unauthorized Spanish language translation was published as Un reino aymara en 1567. Pumapunku 6:87-93 (1972); 9:31-49 (1975). Perspectivas y actuales investigaciones de la etnología andina, Revista del Museo Nacional 35:124-158 (1967-1968); republished as Las investigaciones en etnohistoria andina y sus posibilidades en el futuro in Murra (1975a), pp. 275-312; in Murra (2002a), pp. 445-470; and in La Etnohistoria en Mesoamérica y los Andes, edited by Pedro Carrasco Pizana, Juan Manuel Pérez Zevallos, and José Antonio Pérez Gollán, pp. 113-158. México, D.F.: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (1987). An English language version, Current Research and Prospects in Andean Ethnohistory appears in the Latin American Research Review 5(1):3-36 (1970) and was also re-published as a pamphlet by the Cornell University Latin American Studies Program, Reprint Series 35, n.d. Review of Indianische Fische: Feldbauer und Viehzüchter: Beiträge zur peruanischen Völkerkunde by Horst Nachtigall. American Anthropologist 70(6):1224-1225. Review of Sozialpolitik in Inca-Staat by Angela Müller-Dango. Hispanic American Historical Review 49(4):741-743. Información etnológica e histórica adicional sobre el reino Lupaqa. Historia y Cultura 4:49-61. Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 32:103-117, edited by Henry E. Adams. Gainesville: University of Florida Press for the Hispanic Foundation, Library of Congress. 1970c 1970d 1970e 1970f 1972a 1972b 1973 1974a Comment on Depopulation of the Central Andes in the 16th Century by C.T. Smith. Current Anthropology 11(4, 5):461-462. Review of Francisco de Avila by Hermann Trimborn and Antje Kelm and Dioses y hombres de Huarochirí by José María Arguedas. American Anthropologist 72(2):443-445. Review of The Last Inca Revolt by Lillian Estelle Fischer. Ethnohistory 17(3, 4):173-174. Nispa Ninchis 1. This is a mimeographed first issue of a Quechua studies newsletter that Murra intended to produce with José María Arguedas. Arguedas’ suicide in 1969 prevented the newsletter from continuing. El “control vertical” de un máximo de pisos ecológicos en la economía de las sociedades andinas. In Ortiz (1972), pp. 427-476. Also published privately as a pamphlet by John Victor Murra (n.d.) Ithaca, New York: Glad Day Press; as a pamphlet published by the Universidad Nacional Aútonoma de México (U.N.A.M.) Iztapalapa, División de Ciencias Sociales; in Murra (1975a), pp. 59-115; in Textos de historia de América latina by Heraclio Bonilla, German Carrera Damas, Tulio Halperin Donghi, D.C.M. Platt, John Murra, and Juan Carlos Garavaglia, México: U.N.A.M (1981); and with updates in Murra (2002a), pp. 85-125. Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 34:129-144, edited by Donald E. J. Stewart. Gainesville: University of Florida Press for The Latin American, Portuguese, and Spanish Division of the Library of Congress. Review of Changement et continuité chez les mayas du mexique: Contribution à l’étude de la situation colonial en Amerique latine by Henri Favre. Hispanic American Historical Review 53(1):159-160. Las etno-categorías de un khipu estatal. In Homenaje a Gonzalo Aguirre Beltrán, edited by Roberto Bravo Garzón, Volume 2, pp. 167-176, plus foldout chart. México: Universidad Veracruzana and Instituto Indigenista Interamericano; republished in Murra (1975a), pp. 243-254, and foldout chart; also published in La tecnología en el mundo andino/Runakunap kawasayninkupaq rursqankunaqa, edited by Heather Lechtman and AnaMaría Soldi, Volume 1 Subsistencia y mensuración, pp. 433-442, plus foldout chart. México: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Antropológicas (1981), and distributed as an offprint. Also published as “Etno-categorías de un khipu regional” in Quipu y yupana: Colección de escritos, edited by Carol Mackey, Hugo Pereyna Sánchez, Carlos Radicati, Humberto ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1974b 1974c 1974d 1975a 1975b 1975c 1976a Rodríguez Pastor, and Oscar Valverde Ayala pp. 53-58, plus foldout chart. Lima: CONCYTEC (1990), and in Murra (2002a), pp. 248-260. Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 36:91-99, edited by Donald E. J. Stewart. Gainesville: University of Florida Press for The Latin American, Portuguese, and Spanish Division of the Library of Congress. Andean Cultures. Encyclopaedia Britannica (15th edition), pp. 854-856. Review of Kuyo Chico: Applied Anthropology in an Indian Community by Oscar Núñez del Prado. The Americas 31(2):226-227. Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. This consists of 12 essays, originally published between 1958 and 1970, and almost all revised for this collection. Each gives a genealogy of publication. There is an Italian language edition, Formazioni economiche e politiche nel mondo andino: Saggi di etnostoria, translated by Ana María Soldi. Turin, Italy: Giulio Einaudi (1980). A French translation edited by Jacques PoloniSimard and published by the École des Hautes Études en Science Sociale with the Maison des Sciences de l’homme is forthcoming. It will include an introduction based on Salomon (2007) and Salomon (this volume, pp. 87-102) as well as an earlier version of this bibliography. Review of The Men of Cajamarca: A Social and Biographical Study of the First Conquerors of Peru by James [Marvin] Lockhart. American Anthropologist 77(3):652-654. Review of Struggle in the Andes: Peasant Political Mobilization in Peru by Howard Handelman. The Americas 32(1):167-168. Los límites y las limitaciones del “Archipiélago Vertical” en los Andes. In Homenaje al Dr. Gustavo Le Paige, S.J., edited by José María Casassas, pp. 141-146. Antofagasta, Chile: Universidad del Norte. Based on a paper read at the Congreso del Hombre Andino, Arica, Chile, June 1973. Also published in Avances: Revista Boliviana de Estudios Históricos y Sociales 1:75-80 (La Paz, Bolivia; 1978); in Ensayos sobre el desarrollo económico de México y América Latina (1500-1975), edited by Enrique Florescano, pp.193-198. México: Fondo de Cultura Económica (1979); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 126-131. An English language version, The Limits and Limitations of the “Vertical Archipelago” in the Andes, was published in Andean Ecology and Civilization: An Interdisciplinary Perspective on Andean Ecological Complementarity, edited by Shozo Masuda, Izumi Shimada, and Craig Mor- - 52 ris, pp. 15-20 (1985; article translated by Freda Wolf de Romero). Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. 1976b American Anthropology, The Early Years, introduction to Murra (editor 1976), pp. 3-7. 1976c Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 38, pp. 108-118, edited by Dolores Mayano Martin and Donald E. J. Stewart. Gainesville: University Presses of Florida for the Latin American, Portuguese, and Spanish Division of the Library of Congress. 1976d Review of Investigaciones arqueológicas en los Valles de Caplina y Sama by Hermann Trimborn. Man n.s. 11(3):445-446. 1976e Review of films The Incas, produced by Coronet Films; Lost City of the Andes, produced by Simmel and Meservey; and Intirumi, produced by UNESCO. American Anthropologist 78(2):383384. 1977a Comparando las civilizaciones andinas y mesoamericanas: Dos simposios. Historiografía y Bibliografía Americanistas 21:265-266. 1977b Review of Los aymara de Chinchera, Perú: Persistencia y cambio en un contexto bicultural by John M. Hickman. American Anthropologist 79(1):153. 1977c Review of The Men of Cajamarca: A Social and Biographical Study of the First Conquerors of Peru by James Marvin Lockhart. Historica 1(1):136139. 1977d La arquitectura inka: Un nuevo estudio de Graziano Gasparini. Review of La arquitectura inka by Graziano Gasparini and Luise Margolies. El Comercio, p. 10, 31 August (Lima). An abridged version published as Introducción. Arquitectura Inka by Graziano Gasparini and Luise Margolies, pp. vii-ix. Caracas: Centro de Investigaciones Historicas y Estéticas: Facultad de Arquitectura y Urbanismo, Universidad Central de Venezuela (1977). An abridged English language version was published as the Foreword to the English language translation of Arquitectura Inka, Inca Architecture by Graziano Gasparini and Luise Margolies, translated by Patricia J. Lyon, pp. ix-xxi. Bloomington and London: University of Indiana Press (1980). 1978a La correspondencia entre un “Capitán de la Mita” y su apoderado en Potosí. Historia y Cultura (Lima) 3:45-48. Also published in Murra (2002a), pp. 223-234. An amplified English language version, Aymara Lords and their European Agents at Potosí, was published in Nova America 1:231-243 (1978, Turin, Italy) 1978b La guerre et les rébellions dans l’expansion de l’état inka. In Revel et al. Anthropologie historique des sociétés andines, Anales 33(5-6): 927-935. An 53 - 1978c 1978d 1978e 1978f 1978g 1978h 1979a 1979b 1979c Block and Barnes: John V. Murra English language version, The Expansion of the Inka State: Armies, War, and Rebellions, was published in Murra et al. (1986), pp. 49-58. A Spanish language version, La expansión del estado inka: Ejércitos, guerras y rebeliones, was published in Murra (2002a), pp. 57-66. Los olleros del Inka: Hacia una historia y arqueolgía del Qollasuyo. In Historia, problema y promesa: Homenaje a Jorge Basadre, edited by Francisco Miro Quesada Cantuaras, Franklin Pease G. Y., and David Sobrevilla A., Volume 1, pp. 415-423. Lima: Universidad Pontifícia Católica del Perú, Fondo Editorial; also published as Los olleros del Inka: Hacia una historia y arqueología del Qollasuyo. La Paz: Centro de Investigaciones Históricas (1983); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 287-293. Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 40:77-89, edited by Dolores Moyano Martin. Austin: University of Texas Press for the Hispanic Division of the Library of Congress. Introduction. In Deep Rivers by José María Arguedas, translated by Frances Horning Barraclough, pp. ix-xv. Austin: University of Texas Press. Review of Inequality in the Peruvian Andes: Class and Ethnicity in Cuzco by Pierre L. Van den Berghe and George P. Primov. Hispanic American Historical Review 58(2):345-346. Review of The Vision of the Vanquished by Nathan Wachtel. The Americas 34(4):567-568. Review of Peru: A Cultural History by Henry F. Dobbins and Paul L. Doughty. Ethnohistory 25(4):393-394. El valle de Sama: Isla periférica del reino lupaqa y su uso dentro de la economía minera colonial. In Amerikanistische Studien/Estudios Americanistas: Festschrift für Hermann Trimborn Anlässlich seines 75 Geburtstages/Libro jubilar en homenaje a Hermann Trimborn con motivo de su septuagésimoquinto aniversario, Volume 2, edited by Roswith Hartmann and Udo Oberem, pp. 8791. Collectanea Instituti Anthropos 21. St. Augustin, Germany: Haus Völker und Kulturen, Anthropos-Institute. Algunos contrastes entre los páramos y las punas como zonas de establecimientos humanos. In El medio ambiente páramo: Actas del seminario de Mêrida, Venezuela 5 a 12 de noviembre de 1979, edited by M. L. Salgado-Labouriau, pp. 219-224. Mérida, Venezuela, Instituto Venezolano de Investigaciones Científicas. Derechos a las tierras en el Tawantinsuyu. Revista de la Universidad Complutense 1979d 1980a 1980b 1981a 1981b 28(117):273-287. Special issue entitled Economía y sociedad en los Andes y Mesoamérica, edited by José Alcina Franch. Also published in Revista del Museo Inka (Cusco) 25:103-117 (1995); and in Dos décadas de investigación en historia económica comparada en América Latina, edited by Margarita Menegus Bornemann, Antonio Ibarra, Juan Manuel Pérez Zevallos, and Jorge Silva, pp. 97111. México, D.F.: Colegio de México, Centro de Estudios Históricos; Centro de Investigaciones y Estudios Superiores en Antropología Social; Instituto Doctor José María Luis Mora (1999); and Centro de Estudios Sobre la Universidad, UNAM; and in Murra (2002a), pp. 294-307. Review of The Vision of the Vanquished: The Spanish Conquest of Peru through Indian Eyes, 1530-1570 by Nathan Wachtel, translated by Ben and Siân Reynolds. American Anthropologist 81(1):171. Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 42:135-159, edited by Dolores Mayano Martin. Austin: University of Texas Press for the Hispanic Division of the Library of Congress. Dimensión internacional de Julio C. Tello. El Comercio, El Dominical, p. 7, 6 April (Lima). A longer version was published as La dimensión internacional de la obra de Julio C. Tello. Histórica 6:53-63 (1982). A footnote, p. 53, states “La revista solo publicó una primera parte, la segunda fue añadida a una publicación privada hecha por el autor.” (“The journal only published a first part; the second was added to a private publication by the author”). This has not been located. A revised English language translation, The International Relevance of Julio C. Tello is in The Life and Writings of Julio C. Tello: America’s First Indigenous Archaeologist, edited by Richard L. Burger, pp. 55-64. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press (2009). Socio-political and Demographic Aspects of Multi-Altitude Land Use in the Andes. In Cahiers Népalais: l’Homme et son environnement à haute altitude, Environmental and human population problems at high altitude, Seminaire, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique [and] National Science Foundation, Paris, 1-3 octobre 1980. Edited by Paul T. Baker, Corneille Jest, and Jacques Ruffié, pp. 129-135. Paris: Editions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Commentary on Reciprocity and the Inca State: From Karl Polanyi to John V. Murra by Nathan Wachtel. Research in Economic Anthropology 4:688-691. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1981c 1981d 1982a 1982b 1982c 1982d 1982e 1982f Review of History of the Inca Empire: An Account of the Indians’ Customs and their Origin together with a Treatise on the Inca Legends, History, and Social Institutions by Father Bernabé Cobo, translated by Roland Hamilton. American Ethnologist 8(1):202. Prólogo. In La tecnología en el mundo andino/Runakunap kawasayninkupaq rursqankunaqa, edited by Heather Lechtman and Ana María Soldi, Volume 1, Subsistencia y mensuración, pp. 7-9. México: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Antropológicas. The Mit’a Obligations of Ethnic Groups to the Inka State. In The Inca and Aztec States: 14001800, edited by George A. Collier, Renato I. Rosaldo, and John D. Wirth, pp. 237-262. New York: Academic Press. Also distributed separately as a paper read at a meeting comparing the state in Meso-America and the Andes (1978), revised October, 1981. Included in Human Relations Area Files, World Cultures, South America, Inka SE13 (an Internet resource). A Spanish language version, La Mit’a al Tawantinsuyu: Prestaciones de los grupos étnicos, was published in Chungurá 10:77-94 (1983); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 261-286. El tráfico de mullo en la costa del Pacífico. In Primer Simposio de Correlaciones Antropológicas Andino-Mesoamericano, 25-31 de Julio de 1971, Salinas Ecuador, edited by Jorge Marcos G. and Presley Norton, pp. 265-273. Guayaquil: Escuela Superior Politécnica del Litoral. Also published in Murra (1975a), pp. 255-267; and in Murra (2002a), pp. 171-179; and in Reconocimientos y excavaciones en el austro ecuatoriano (see Collier and Murra 1943), pp. 403-418 (2007). Ethnohistory: South America. Handbook of Latin American Studies 44:102-121, edited by Dolores Mayano Martin. Austin: University of Texas Press for the Hispanic Division of the Library of Congress. Review of Parentesco y matrimonio en los Andes, edited by Enrique Mayer and Ralph Bolton. American Anthropologist 84(4):909-910. Review of The Transition to Statehood in the New World by Grant D. Jones and Robert R. Kautz. Hispanic American Historical Review 62(4):713714. Platform Submitted to Support Candidacy for President, American Anthropological Association. Circulated by the American Anthropological Association and by John Victor Murra. Photocopy. On file in the archives of Andean Past. - 54 1983a 1983b 1983c 1984a 1984b 1984c 1985a 1985b 1985c 1985d 1985e José María Arguedas, dos imágines. Revista IberoAmericana 122:43-54. Republished in Arguedas 1996:265-298. Prioridades en la etnografía antigua del mundo andino. Semana de Ultima Hora (La Paz), 25 February, p. 3. Review of Chan Chan: Andean Desert City by Michael Moseley and Kent C. Day. Man n.s. 18(2):410-411. Andean Societies. In Annual Review of Anthropology 13:119-141. The Cultural Future of the Andean Majority. In The Prospects for Plural Societies, edited by David Maybury-Lewis, pp. 30-38. Washington, D.C.: American Ethnological Society. Review of Estructuras andinas del poder: Ideologîa religiosa y política by María Rostworowski de Diez Canseco. Hispanic American Historical Review 64(4):790-791. Andean Societies before 1532. In The Cambridge History of Latin America, edited by Leslie Bethell, Volume 1, pp. 59-90. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Spanish language version, Las sociedades andinas antes de 1532 published in Historia de América Latina 1, América Latina Colonial: La América precolombiana y la conquista, edited by Leslie Bethell and translated by Antonio Acosta. Barcelona, Editorial Crítica (1990). Andean Societies before 1532 (bibliographic essay). In The Cambridge History of Latin America, edited by Leslie Bethell, Volume 11, pp. 1518. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Spanish language version, Las sociedades andinas antes de 1532 (Ensayo Bibliográfico) in Historia de América Latina 1, América Latina Colonial: La América precolombiana y la conquista, edited by Leslie Bethell. Barcelona, Editorial Crítica (1990). “El archipiélago vertical” Revisited. In Andean Ecology and Civilization: An Interdisciplinary Perspective on Andean Ecological Complementarity, edited by Shozo Masuda, Izumi Shimada, and Craig Morris, pp. 3-13 (article translated by Freda Wolf de Romero). Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. A Spanish language version, El archipiélago vertical: Once años después, was published in Condarco 1987, pp. 87-104, and in Murra (2002a), pp. 132-139. Commentary on Staple Finance, Wealth Finance, and Storage in the Inka Political Economy by Terence N. D’Altroy and Timothy K. Earle. Current Anthropology 26(2):200. Review of Religion and Empire: The Dynamics of Aztec and Inca Expansion by Geoffey W. Conrad 55 - 1986a 1986b 1987a 1987b 1987c 1988a 1988b Block and Barnes: John V. Murra and Arthur A. Demarest. Man n.s. 20(3):553554. Notes on Pre-Columbian Cultivation of Coca Leaf. In Coca and Cocaine: Effects on People and Policy in Latin America, Proceedings of the Conference, The Coca Leaf and Its Derivatives–Biology, Society, and Policy, Sponsored by the Latin American Studies Program (LASP), Cornell University, April 25-26, 1985, edited by Deborah Pacini and Christine Franquemont, pp. 49-52. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Cultural Survival and Ithaca, New York: Cornell LASP. Also distributed as an Audiobook by Cornell LASP (1985). Le difficile accouchement d’une histoire andine. In Economies méditerranéennes:Équilibres et intercommunications, XIIIe-XIXe siècles. (Actes du IIe Colloque International d’Histoire), Volume 3, pp. 309-313. Athens: Centre de Recherches Néohelléniques de la Fondation Nationale de la Recherche Scientifique. ¿Existeron el tributo y los mercados antes de la invasion española? In La Participación indígena en los mercados surandinos: estrategías y reproducción social siglos XVI a XX, edited by Olivia Harris, Brooke Larson, and Enrique Tandeter. La Paz, Bolivia: Centro de Estudios de la Realidad Economica y Social. Also published as ¿Existeron el tributo y los mercados en los Andes antes de la invasion española? in Arqueología, antropología, e historia en los Andes: Homenaje a María Rostworowski, edited by Rafael Varón Gabai and Javier Flores Espinoza, pp. 737-748. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and Banco Central de Reserva del Perú (1997); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 237-247. An English language version, Did Tribute and Markets Prevail in the Andes before the European Invasion? was published in Ethnicity, Markets, and Migration in the Andes: At the Crossroads of History and Anthropology, edited by Brooke Larson and Olivia Harris with Enrique Tandeter, pp. 57-72. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press (1995). ¿Inventando una historia andina? Discurso Literario 4(2):347-353. La etnohistoria. In La etnohistoria en Mesoamérica y los Andes, edited by Juan Manuel Pérez Zevallos and José Antonio Pérez Gollán, pp. 159-175. Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Historia. El Aymara libre de ayer. In Raíces de América: El mundo Aymara, edited by Xavier Albó, pp. 51-74. Madrid: Alianza Editorial. El Doctor Barros de San Millán, defensor de los “señores naturales” de los Andes. In Actas del IV Congreso Internacional de Etnohistoria. Lima: 1988c 1988d 1988e 1989a 1989b 1990 1991a 1991b 1992 Universidad Pontifícia Católica del Perú, Volume 2, pp. 359-377. Also published as El Doctor Barros de San Millán: Defensor de los “señores naturales” en los Andes. Barcelona: Servei de Publicacions de la Universitat de Barcelona (1993); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 426-438. Review of La heterodoxia recuperada: En torno a Ángel Palerm, edited by Susana Glantz. American Anthropologist 90(1):196-197. Review of The Orgins and Development of the Andean State, edited by Jonathan Haas, Shelia Pozorski, and Thomas Pozorski. Hispanic American Historical Review 68(4):820-821. Review of The Evolution of Human Societies: From Foraging Group to Agrarian State by Allen W. Johnson and Timothy Earle. Man n.s. 23(3):586587. High Altitude Andean Societies and their Economies. In Geographic Perspectives in History, edited by Eugene D. Genovese and Leonard Hochberg, pp. 205-214. Oxford and New York: B. Blackwell. Review of Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness in the Andean Peasant World, 18th to 20th Centuries by Steve J. Stern. American Anthropologist 91(1):214-215. Review of Suma y narración de los Incas by Juan de Betanzos, edited by María del Carmen Martín Rubio. Ethnohistory 37(1):95-97. Le débat sur l’avenir des Andes en 1562. In Cultures et sociétés: Andes et Méso-Amérique: Mélanges en homage à Pierre Duviols, edited by Raquel Thiercelin, Volume 2, pp. 625-632. Aixen-Provence: Université de Provence, Service des Publications. “Nos hazen mucha ventaja”: The Early European Perception of Andean Achievement. In Transatlantic Encounters: Europeans and Andeans in the Sixteenth Century, edited by Kenneth J. Andrien and Rolena Adorno, pp. 73-89. Berkeley: University of California Press. A Spanish language version, Nos hacen mucha ventaja: Percepción europea temprana de los logros andinos, was published in Semillas de industria: Transformaciones de la tecnología andina en las Américas, edited by Mario Ruz, pp. 19-35. México: Ciesas and Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution (1994); and in Murra (2002a), pp. 25-40. Guaman Poma’s Sources in Guaman Poma de Ayala: The Colonial Art of an Andean Author by Rolena Adorno, Tom Cummins, Teresa Gisbert, Maarten van de Guchte, Mercedes López-Baralt, and John Victor Murra, pp. 60-66. New York: Americas Society. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1993a Review of Ancient Andean Political Economy by Charles Stanish. The American Historical Review 98(2):616-617. 1993b Review of Provincial Power in the Inka Empire by Terence N. D’Altroy. The American Historical Review 98(4):1355. 1994a John Hyslop 1945-1993. Andean Past 4(1-7). 1994b Review of Domination and Resistance by Daniel Miller, Michael Rowlands, and Christopher Tilley. American Anthropologist 21(3):628. 1994c Review of the Inca Empire: The Formation and Disintegration of a Pre-Capitalist State by Thomas C. Patterson. Latin American Antiquity 5(2):184185. 1996a Prólogo. In Las Cartas de Arguedas, edited by John Victor Murra and Mercedes López-Baralt, pp. 13-16. Lima: Universidad Pontifícia Católica del Perú. Second edition (1998). 1996b [1977] Semblanza de Arguedas. In Las Cartas de Arguedas, edited by John Victor Murra and Mercedes López-Baralt, pp. 283-293. Lima: Universidad Pontifícia Católica del Perú. Second edition (1998). 1998 Litigation Over the Rights of “Natural Lords” in Early Colonial Courts in the Andes. In Native Traditions in the Postconquest World: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks, edited by Elizabeth Hill Boone and Tom Cummins, pp. 55-62. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. A Spanish language version, Litigio sobre los derechos de los “senores naturales” en las primeras cortes colonials en los Andes published in Historias 49:101-105 (2001). 1999 El Tawantinsuyu. In Historia general de América Latina, edited by Federico Mayor and Germán Damas, Volume 1, pp. 481-484. Madrid: Editorial Trotta and Paris: Ediciones UNESCO. Also published in Murra (2002a), pp. 67-82, plus foldout map. 2002a El Mundo andino: Población, medio ambiente y economía. Lima: Pontifícia Universidad Católica del Perú, Fondo Editorial and Instituto de Estudios Peruanos, Series Historia Andina 24. 2002b Barros de San Millán. In Diccionario histórico de Bolivia, edited by Josep M. Barnadas, Guillermo Calvo, and Juan Ticlla. Volume 1, pp. 272-273. Sucre: Grupo de Estudios Históricos. Murra, John Victor and Gordon Hadden 1966 Apéndice: Informe presentado al Patronado Nacional de Arqueología sobre la labor de liempieza y consolidación de Huánuco Viejo. In Cuadernos de Investigación, Antropología 1. (Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizan, Huánuco, Perú.) - 56 Murra, John Victor and Caroline G. Mercer 1957 Brown Will Discuss Faulkner’s Negro; Frazier, the Negro Community and Conf. Vassar Chronicle, February 23. 14(17):3. Murra, John Victor and Craig Morris 1976 Dynastic Oral Tradition, Administrative Records, and Archaeology in the Andes. World Archaeology 7(3):269-279. Murra, John Victor. and Nathan Wachtel 1978 Présentation. In Revel et al. (1978), pp. 889-894. An English language version, Introduction, was published in Murra et al. (1986), pp. 1-9. Sinclaire Aguirre, Carole, Soledad Hoces de la Guardia Chellew, Paulina Brugnoli, and John Victor Murra 2006 Awakhuni: Tejiendo la historia andina. Santiago de Chile: Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino. An English language version published as Awakhuni: Weaving the History of the Andes, in Memory of John Victor Murra (1916-2006). Santiago de Chile: Museo Chileno de Arte Precololombino (2007). Thompson, Donald E. and John Victor Murra 1966 The Inca Bridges in the Huánuco Region American Antiquity 31(5) Part 1:632-639. Also published in Peruvian Archaeology: Selected Readings, edited by John Howland Rowe and Dorothy Menzel, pp. 235-242. Palo Alto, California: Peek Publications. A Spanish language version, Puentes incaicos en la region de Huánuco Pampa was published in Antropología: Cuadernos de Investigación 1, pp. 79-94 (Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Facultad de Letras y Educación, Huánuco, Perú, 1966). VOLUMES EDITED BY JOHN VICTOR MURRA Arguedas, José María 1996 Las Cartas de Arguedas, edited by John Victor Murra and Mercedes López-Baralt. Lima: Universidad Pontifícia Católica del Perú. Second edition (1998). Guaman Poma de Ayala, Felipe 1980 El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno, edited by John Victor Murra and Rolena Adorno. Quechua translations by Jorge Urioste. Colección América Nuestra 31. 3 volumes. México: Siglo XXI. Reprinted 1988, 1992. Expanded and corrected edition published in Madrid by Historia 16 in its Crónicas de América series (1987); facsimile CD-ROM of manuscript GKS 2232 4o, Copenhagen: Royal Library of Denmark, n.d. and on-line facsimile: (http://www.kb.dk/permalink /2006/poma/info/ en/frontpage.htm, consulted 21 March 2008), plus the Murra-Adorno-Urioste transcription, 57 searchable and corrected by Ivan Boserup and Rolena Adorno. Murra, John Victor, editor 1964 Visita hecha a la Provincia de Chucuito por Garci Díez de San Miguel en el año 1567. Transcription and bibliography by Waldemar Espinoza Soriano. Includes Padrón de los mil indios ricos de la Provincia de Chucuito en el año 1574, by Fray Pedro Gutiérrez Flores. Lima: Casa de la Cultura Peruana. 1976 American Anthropology, The Early Years: 1974 Proceedings of the American Ethnological Society. St. Paul, Minnesota; New York, New York; Boston, Massachusetts; Los Angeles California, and San Francisco, California: West Pub. Co. 1991 Visita de los valles de Sonqo en las yunka de coca de La Paz (1568-1570). Madrid: Instituto de Cooperación Iberoamericana, La Sociedad Estatal del Quinto Centenario, and Instituto de Estudios Fiscales. Includes Notas preliminarios sobre el manuscripto de la visita de los cocales de Sonqo y la transcripción usada en esta edición, pp. 6-13; Introducción al estudio histórico del cultivo de la hoja de la coca [Exythroxylon coca] en los Andes, pp. 565-581; also published in Murra (2002a), pp. 359-372, and Los cultivadores aymara de la hoja de coca: Dos disposiciones administrativas [1568-1570], pp. 653-674; also published in Murra (2002a), pp. 341-358. Ortiz de Zúñiga, Iñigo 1967 Visita de la provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562, edited by John Victor Murra, Volume 1, Visita de las cuatro waranqa de los chupachu, transcribed by Domingo Angulo, Marie Helmer, and Felipe Márquez Abanto. Huánuco, Perú: Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Facultad de Letras y Educación, Series Documentos para la Historia y Etnología de Huánuco y la Selva Central. 1972 Visita de la provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562, edited by John Victor Murra, Volume 2, Visita de los Yacha y mitmaqkuna cuzqueños encomendados en Juan Sanchez Falcon, transcribed by Felipe Márquez Abanto. Huánuco, Perú: Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Facultad de Letras y Educación, Series Documentos para la Historia y Etnología de Huánuco y la Selva Central. Revel, Jacques, John Victor Murra, and Nathan Wachtel, editors 1978 Anthropologie historique des sociétés andines, Annales 33(5-6), special issue. Published as an English language edition, Anthropological History of Andean Polities, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press and Block and Barnes: John V. Murra Paris: Editions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme (1986). Rojas Rabiela, Teresa and John Victor Murra, editors 1999 Historia General de América Latina, Volume 1, Los sociedades originarias. Madrid: Editorial Trotta and Paris: Ediciones UNESCO. PAPERS OF JOHN VICTOR MURRA The bulk of John Victor Murra’s papers are in the National Anthropological Archives of the Smithsonian Institution. For a register of these papers see: http://www.nmnh.si.edu/naa/fa/murra.pdf (consulted 3 June 2009). Other archival collections with documents relevant to the life and work of John Victor Murra include The Catherine Pelton Durrell ’25 Archives and Special Collections Library, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York. New York University’s Bobst Library contains extensive records of the Research Institute for the Study of Man with much material relevant to Murra’s work in the Caribbean. New York University’s Tamiment Library & Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives houses documents and audiotapes relevant to Murra’s participation in the Spanish Civil War. The Harry S Truman Library and Museum, Independence, Missouri, Records on the President’s Committee on Civil Rights Record Group 220 incorporates Murra’s citizenship case records. Several collections of documents in the Anthropology Division of the American Museum of Natural History have papers relevant to John Victor Murra. The records there of the Institute of Andean Research contain documents pertinent to John Murra’s 1941-42 fieldwork in Ecuador, to the Inca Provincial Life (Huánuco Project), and to his tenure as President of the IAR. The AMNH’s Junius B. Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology contains further records of Murra’s Huánuco Project, including field notes and photographs, transcriptions of archival documents relevant to Huánuco, maps of the region, official documents authorizing the project, interim reports, and professional and personal letters by or to Murra. Certain letters in the Bird Lab to and from E. Craig Morris and to and from John Hyslop are also relevant to Huánuco John Victor Murra’s life and work. Information on Murra in the Archivo General de la Guerra Civil, Salamanca, Spain was said by him to be partially incorrect. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Some significant John Murra papers remain in Andean countries and in private hands. INTERVIEWS “En la obra de cualquier autor, poeta, lo que sea, cualquiera, hay un retrato que se hace del el, y otra cosa es lo que él percibe de sí mismo” John Victor Murra speaking to Waldo Ansaldi and Fernando Calderón G., 1989 (“In the work of any author, poet, whoever, there is a portrait that is made of him, but how he perceives himself is something else”, translation by Monica Barnes). Ansaldi, Waldo and Fernando Calderón G. 1989 Reconocer el valor de esta sociedad que por casualidad encontré: Conversación con John Murra. David y Goliath 18(54):2-14. Also published as Pon la vida, pon los sueños: Conversación con John Murra. In Los esfuerzos de Sísifo: Conversaciones sobre las ciencias sociales en América Latina, pp. 245-285, edited by Fernando Calderón G. (2000). Heredia, Costa Rica: EUNA. Castro, Victoria, Carlos Aldunate, and Jorge Hidalgo, editors 2000 Nispa ninchis/decimos diciendo: Conversaciones con John Murra. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and New York: Institute of Andean Research. Series Fuentes e Investigaciones para la Historia del Perú 13. Gerassi, John 1980 Unpublished audio-taped interview of John Victor Murra. Abraham Lincoln Brigade Archive (ALBA) Audio #18, John Gerassi Oral History Collection, The Tamiment Library, New York University. Harriman, Manny 1983 Video interview with John Victor Murra. Not broadcast or distributed. To be deposited in the archive of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, Tamiment Library, New York University, New York, New York. Hermosa, Ernest n.d. Fragamento de entrevista con John Murra. Presencia Cultural, Televisión Nacional del Perú, Program posted on YouTube, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12unr4yx83o (consulted 4 June 2009). Nine minutes of a more extensive interview. Ipiña Melgar, José 1976 Etnológia andina: Entrevista con John Victor Murra. Presencia Literaria 12 September, pp. 1ff. Rowe, John Howland 1984 An Interview with John Victor Murra. Hispanic American Historical Review 64(4):1-21. A Span- - 58 ish language translation by Martha León Urdaneta is posted on the website of the Banco de la República de Colombia, La Biblioteca Luis Ángel Urdaneta, Biblioteca Virtual www.lablaa.org/blaavirtual/publicaciones banrep/bolmuseo/1986/bol17/ boc3.htm ( c o n sulted 4 June 2009). de Siles, María Eugenia 1983 Conversaciones con John Victor Murra, un apasionado del mundo andino. Semana de Ultima Hora, February 11, pp. 6-8 (La Paz, Bolivia). Wolf de Romero, Freda 1966 An Interview with John Victor Murra. Lima Times, August, pp. 31-32. TRANSLATIONS Murra, John V., Robert M. Hankin, and Fred Holling, translators 1951 The Soviet Linguistic Controversy: Translated from the Soviet Press. New York: King’s Crown Press for the Columbia University Slavic Studies Department. Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, María 1960 Succession, Coöption to Kingship and Royal Incest Among the Incas. Translated by John Victor Murra. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 16(4):417-427. FESTSCHRIFTS AND MEMORIAL VOLUMES Editors of Chungará 2009? At the time Andean Past 9 went to press, an issue of Chungará: Revista de Antropología Chilena. dedicated to John Murra was in preparation. Henderson, John S. and Patricia J. Netherly, editors 1993 Configurations of Power: Holistic Anthropology in Theory and Practice. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. Lorandi, AnaMaría, Carmen Salazar-Soler, and Nathan Wachtel 2003 Los Andes: Cincuenta años después (1953-2003); Homenaje a John Murra. Lima: Universidad Pontifícia Católica del Perú. WORKS ABOUT JOHN VICTOR MURRA Albó, Xavier and Cristina Bubba 2007 John Murra, solidario militante. La Razón, November 4, A6 (La Paz, Bolivia). Anonymous 1942 57 South Siders Receive Degrees at U. Of Chicago: 642 Students Graduated Since Last Summer. Chicago Daily Tribune, December 20, p. S4. 59 1947a 1947b 1947c 1947d 1948a 1948b 1948c 1948d 1948e 1949a 1949b 1950a 1950b 1950c 1956 1953 1954a 1954b 1954c 1954d 1955a 1955b Block and Barnes: John V. Murra U.S. to Lift Lid on Red Asking for Citizenship. Chicago Daily Tribune, January 1, p. 42. Denies U. Of C. Ex-Instructor Citizen Rights. Chicago Daily Tribune, January 18, p. 1. Alien Rejected as U.S. Citizen to Appeal Case. Chicago Daily Tribune, February 12, p. 38. Injustice from a Biased Judge. The Chicago Sun, January 24. Red Gospel Advanced by Fund Grants: Exempt Trusts Pay Writers. Chicago Daily Tribune, November 7, p. 1. Second Ruling Due Nov. 22 in Murra’s Citizenship Plea. Chicago Daily Tribune, November 10, p. B1. Igoe Studies Plea of Ex-U. Of C. Aid Accused as a Red. Chicago Daily Tribune, November 23, p. A10. Igoe Files Findings as Prof. Murra Acts in Citizenship Ban. Chicago Daily Tribune, November 24, p. 3. Citizenship Request is Turned Down. A.P. report. Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune, November 24, p. 2. Also published as Denies Citizenship to Teacher. The La Crosse Tribune, November 24, p. 11. U.S. Opposes Appeal of Educator in Fight to Gain Citizenship. Chicago Daily Tribune, September 22, p. 5. Reverse Denial of Citizenship to Ex-U.C. Aid: U.S. Court of Appeals Clears Murra. Chicago Daily Tribune, December 15, p. 9. Deny Rehearing to U.S. in Murra Citizenship Bid. Chicago Daily Tribune, February 2, p. 7. Igoe, Reversed, Grants Citizen Oath to Russian. Chicago Tribune, June 15, p. C10. Engineers Hear Talk by Anthropologist. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, November 21. Columbia to Make a Study of Tropics. The New York Times, April 21, p. 37. American Friends Plan Seminar. Vassar Miscellany News, March 4, 37(17):5. J. Murra, M. Flack Join Vassar Faculty. Vassar Miscellany News 38(15):3, February 17. Flack and Murra, New VC Faculty Members. Vassar Chronicle, February 20,11(15):6. AAUW Study Group to Hear Mr. Murra. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, October 22. Murra Named to Fair Club Board. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, November 27. Vassar Lecturer Attends Meeting. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, January 5. John V. Murra Speaking at Brandeis. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, April 16. 1955c 1955d 1956a 1956b 1956c 1956d 1956e 1956f 1957a 1957b 1957c 1957d 1957e 1958 1959a 1959b 1960a 1960b 1961a 1961b 1961c 1961d 1961e 1961f Goals of Childhood Set Pattern for Adult Life Anthropologist Says. Boston Globe, November 20. Engineers Hear Talk by Anthropologist, Poughkeepsie New Yorker, November 21. Murra Chosen Series Moderator. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, January 27. Grant Received by Vassar Senior. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, February 13. John V. Murra . . . will be Moderator of a Series of Four Meetings about African Arts . . . Vassar Miscellany News, February 15, 40(15):1 Vassar Professor Receives Degree. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, March 19. Faculty Notes. Vassar Chronicle, December 15, 14(12):8. John V. Murra Attends AAA Meetings. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, December 29. Faculty Notes. Vassar Chronicle 14(14):4, January 19. Program in Commemoration of New State of Ghana. New Paltz Independent, April 18. 400 Attend Opening of African Unit. AfroAmerican, October 5 (Baltimore, Maryland). John Murra to Attend Seminar in Puerto Rico. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, November 11. John Murra to Speak at Brandeis. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, November 25. Caribbean Course Slated by AAUN. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, January 3. Murra Opens Convocation with Anthropology Address. Vassar Miscellany News 44(1), September 23. New Faculty Members Cited, Professors on Leave Return. Vassar Miscellany News 44(2):1, 4, September 30. John V. Murra of the Anthropology Department will lecture . . . on the All Africa Conference which He Attended. Vassar Miscellany News, March 2, 44(19):1. Professor to Talk to Harding Club. Poughkeepsie New Yorker, May 10. Advisers Air Program of Health Unit. Advance , February 13 (Staten Island). Africa to Incas. News (Detroit, Michigan), March 22. U-D Will Host Special Talks on African Ways. Northwest Record, March 23. Trustees Grant Fourteen Faculty Leaves . . . Vassar Miscellany News, May 10, 45(25)1, 6. Africa Lecture Slated. News (Detroit, Michigan), October 13. Asks Truer Inca Study. News (Newark, New Jersey), November 24. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1961g Ethnologist Seeks True Inca Image. Sun, November 30 (Baltimore, Maryland). 1961i True Picture of Inca. Science News Letter 80(23): 364. 1962a LWV Announces Names of Series Patronesses. Register, January 18 (New Haven, Connecticut). 1962b Second Lecture in LWV Series Set Wednesday. Register, January 28 (New Haven, Connecticut). c. 1964 [exact date unknown] En Huánuco habría “otro” Machupicchu: Así afirma catedrático de EU. La Prensa (Lima). 1966 Carnet Social. La Chrónica, February 10 (Lima). 1983 292 Receive Fellowships from Guggenheim Fund. The New York Times, April 10, Metropolitan Desk, Late City Final Edition, Section 1, p. 48. 2006a [Frederic W. Gleach] John V. Murra. Ithaca Journal, p. 4A, October 25. 2006b John Murra, Anthropologist. International Herald Tribune, News Section, October 25, p. 3. 2006c John Victor Murra. Lives in Brief. The Times [London], November, 1. Features, p. 66a. 2006d Anthropologist J. Murra: Expert on Incan Empire. Watertown Daily Times [New York], November 3. 2007e Correction of October 24, 2007 Obituary about John V. Murra Regarding Incident in his Life. The New York Times, November 2, Late Edition, final, Metropolitan Desk section, page 2. n.d. (c. 1950) Untitled editorial denouncing John Victor Murra’s citizenship application and his hiring by Vassar College. National Republic Lettergram 222 (Washington, D.C.). The National Republic Lettergram, an offshoot of The National Republic magazine was edited by Walter S. Steele, an anti-Communist activist Castro Rojas, Victoria, Craig Morris, and Carlos Ivan De gregori 2002 Homenaje a John Murra. Gaceta Arqueológica Andina 26:223-227. Condarco Morales, Ramiro 1977 Un ataque a Murra. Presencia Literaria June 5, p. 2 (La Paz, Bolivia). Collier, Donald 1942 Ecuador Expedition Returns. Field Museum News 13(3):3. Contreras, Jesús 1993 Solemne investidura de doctor honoris causa al professor John V. Murra: Discurs de presentació pel professor Jesús Contreras. Barcelona: Universitat (in Catalan and Spanish). Fisher, Harry 1998 Comrades: Tales of a Brigadista in the Spanish Civil War. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Contains many mentions of John Victor Murra - 60 in the context of his participation in the Spanish Civil War. Friedman, Rosalind 1960 Anthropologists, Philosophers, Historian Attend Conference. Vassar Miscellany News 44(13):1, January 13 . Gillespie, Adele 1950 Murra Speaks on Conditions Prevailing Now in Puerto Rico. Vassar Miscellany News 35(9):3, 6, November 22 . Gleach, Frederic W. and Frank Salomon 2006 Death Notices: John V. Murra. Anthropology News 47(9):36. Gleach, Frederic W. with David Block, Jane Fajans, John Henderson, David Holmberg, Eduardo Kohn, Heather Lechtman, Frank Salomon, and Gabriela Vargas-Cetina 2006 Obituary: John V. Murra http://www.ethnohistory.org/sections/news/ index. php ?id=17 (consulted 26 June 2009). Glaser, June 1959 Experience in Peru Related by Murra. Vassar Miscellany News 44(2):1, 4, September 30. Harris, Olivia John Victor Murra: An Anthropologist Who 2006 Dedicated Himself to Understanding the Incan Civilization. Guardian, p. 39, November 4. Spanish language translation published in Íconos 26:164-66 and on-line: http://www.flacso.org.ec/docs/i27murra.pdf [consulted 1 August 2009]. Henderson, John S. and Patricia J. Netherly 1993 Murra, Materialism, Anthropology, and the Andes. In Configurations of Power: Holistic Anthropology in Theory and Practice, pp. 1-8. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. Hevesi, Dennis 2006 John V. Murra, 90, Professor Who Recast Image of Incas, Dies. The New York Times, October 24. On-line at: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/24/obituaries /24murra.html?scp=1&sq=%22John%20Victo r%20Murra%22&st=cse (Consulted 4 June 2009, includes correction). Hirschman, Joan 1955 Upper Classmen Interview Professors; Compare Freshmen. Seniors in Class, Loss of Spontaneity . . . Vassar Miscellany News, 40(11):3, December 7. Honan, William H. 1992 U.S. Returns Stolen Ancient Textiles to Bolivia. The New York Times, September 27, page 23. Jenson, Peter 1965 A Traveling Exhibit in the Andes. Curator 8(3): 223-227. 61 Klineberg, Rosemary 1954 Murra Conducts Discussion Group. Vassar Miscellany News, 39(7):3, November 3. Neira, Hugo 2006 Hugo Neira comenta la trayectora de John Murra. Presencia Cultural, Televisión Nacional del Perú. http:/www.presenciacultural.com/blog/index. php?s=Murra&submit= (Consulted 4 June 2009). Raczynski, Christiane 1995 John Murra: Conquistado por los Andes. El Comercio, E24, 29 October (Lima). Redfield, Robert and Fay-Cooper Cole 1947 ‘Case’ Against Murra. Letter to the Sun, January (Chicago, Illinois). Salomon, Frank 2007 John Victor Murra (1916-2006). American Anthropologist 109(4):793-795. Vásquez Aliaga, José 1970 John Murra: Agudo peruanista. La Prensa, September 5 (Lima). Vega, Roberto 1983 Un maestro de la historia del Tawantinsuyu. Tiempo Argentino, 30 May, p. 7. Wachtel, Nathan 1973 La reciprocidad y el Estado Inca: De Karl Polanyi a John V. Murra. Lima: Publisher Unknown. Wakefield, Dan 1959 The Other Puerto Ricans: Headlines Have Obscured the Fight that Most Must Make Against Slum Living and Intolerance. The New York Times Sunday Magazine, October 11, pp. 24, 25, 82-85. Zahner, Barbara 1950 Profile Mr. Murra. Vassar Miscellany News, October 18, 35(4):3, 5. REVIEWS OF THE WORKS OF JOHN VICTOR MURRA Albó, Xavier 1983 Dos nuevas ediciones completas de Waman Puma. Review of El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno by Guaman Poma de Ayala. Annales E.S.C. 38(3):633-635. Ballesteros Gaibrois, Manuel 1987 Guaman Poma de Ayala, cronista indio, Review of Nueva corónica y buen gobierno by Guaman Poma de Ayala. Historia 16, March, pp. 83-88. Bankes, George 1983 Review of The Economic Organization of the Inca State. Journal of Latin American Studies 15(1):199200. Block and Barnes: John V. Murra Bauer, Arnold J. 1976 Review of Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino. Hispanic American Historical Review 56(3):472-473. Brading, David 1981 From the Peasant’s Point of View. Review of Economic Organization of the Inca State. The Times Literary Supplement, August 14, p. 938 . Caballero, Antonio 1987 La tragedia (ilustrada) de la conquista. Review of Nueva corónica y buen gobierno. Cambio 16, May 5, pp. 144-145. Cahill, David 1990 History and Anthropology in the Study of Andean Societies. Review of Anthropological History of Andean Politics, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel, among other books. Bulletin of Latin American Research 9(1):123-132. Carter, William 1965 Review of Visita hecha a la provincia de Chucuito por Garci Diez de San Miguel en el año 1567. American Anthropologist n.s. 67(5), part 1:13271328. Dwyer, Edward B. 1976 Review of Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino. Ethnohistory 23(1):70-71. Elliott, J. H. 1973 Review of Visita de la Provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562, Volume 1 by Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga. Journal of Latin American Studies 5(2):321. Escajadillo, Tomás 1996 Reveladoras cartas. Review of Las cartas de Arguedas, edited by John Victor Murra and Mercedes López-Baralt. Debate 18(91):63 (Perú). Faron, Louis C. 1965 Review of Visita hecha a la provincia de Chucuito por Garci Diez de San Miguel en el año 1567. Ethnohistory 12(3):263-265. 1968 Review of Visita de la Provincia de Leon de Huánuco en 1562, Volume 1 by Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga. American Anthropologist 70(3):620-621. 1981 Review of Anthropologie historique des sociétés andines, edited by Jacques Revel, John Victor Murra, and Nathan Wachtel. Hispanic American Historical Review 61(1):106-107. Gose, Peter 1987 Review of Anthropological History of Andean Polities edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. Man n.s. 22(4):762-763. Ganster, Paul 1974 Review of Visita de la provincia de Leon de Huánuco en 1562, Volume 2, Visita de los Yacha y ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Mitmaqkuna cuzqueños encomendados en Juan Sánchez Falcón by Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga. American Anthropologist 76(4):923-924. Guarisco, Claudia 1992 Nuevo aporte de John Murra: Visita de los valles de Sonqo. El Peruano, 9 September, pp. 6-7. Higgins, James 1982 Review of El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno by Guaman Poma de Ayala. Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 59:84-85. Kjonegaard, Vernon 1982 Review of El primer nueva crónica y buen gobierno, edited by John Victor Murra and Rolena Adorno with Jorge L. Urioste. New Scholar 8(1, 2):442448. Lavallé, Bernard 1982 Review of El primer nueva crónica y buen gobierno, edited by John Victor Murra and Rolena Adorno with Jorge L. Urioste. Bulletin Hispanique 84(12):226-227. Loza, Carmen Beatriz 1992a Review in Spanish of Visita a los valles de Sonqo en los yunka de coca de La Paz, 1568-1570. Revista Andina 10(1):251-252. 1992b Another review in French of Visita a los valles de Sonqo en los yunka de coca de La Paz, 1568-1570. Journal de la Société des Américanistes 78(1):158161. Ludeña de la Vega, Guillermo 1985 Review of El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno by Guaman Poma de Ayala. El Comercio, 20 March (Lima). Mallku (sic) 1977 Etnohistoria e ideología. Review of Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino. El Diario, January 23, p. 10 (Bolivia). Means, Philip Ainsworth 1944 Review of Survey and Excavation in Southern Ecuador by Donald Collier and John Victor Murra. American Anthropologist 9(3):366-367. Middleton, DeWight R. 1977 Peasantries and Other Topics: South and Mesoamerica. Reviews Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino, among other works. American Anthropologist 79(1):98-104. Millones, Luis 1982 Ethnohistorians and Andean Ethnohistory: A Difficult Task, a Heterodox Discipline. A book review article that evaluates La organización económica del estado inca and Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino, among other books. Latin American Research Review 17(1):200-216. - 62 Mitchell, William P. 1988 Review of Etnografía e historia del mundo andino: Continuidad y cambio, edited by Shozo Masuda and of Anthropological History of Andean Polities, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. American Anthropologist 90(1):198-199. Morris, Craig 1979 Review of La organización del estado Inca. American Anthropologist 81(4):922-924. Moseley, Michael E. 1987 Review of Anthropological History of Andean Polities, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. Hispanic American Historical Review 67(4):699-700. Ortega, Julio 1981 Review of El primer nueva crónica y buen gobierno, edited by John Victor Murra and Rolena Adorno with Jorge L. Urioste. Vuelta 5(58):35-37. Ossio, Juan M. 2001 Guaman Poma en Internet. Review of El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno (GKS 22324o) El Comercio, El Dominical, 3 June (Lima) . Pease, G. Y., Franklin 1973 Las visitas de Huánuco en el siglo XVI: Nuevas Ediciones. Review of Visita de la Provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562 by Ortiz de Zuniga. El Comercio, El Dominical, 4 February (Lima). Peters, Ann H., and Calogero Santoro 2004 Reviews of El mundo andino: Población, medio ambiente, y economía. Chungará 36(1):241-245. Schaedel, Richard P. 1968 Review of Visita hecha a la provincia de Chucuito por Garci Diez de San Miguel en el año 1567. Chucuito. Hispanic American Historical Review 48(2):290-292. 1969 Review of Visita de la Provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562. by Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga. Hispanic American Historical Review 49(3):542-544. 1977 Review of Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino. Hispanic American Historical Review 42(1):129-131. Silverblatt, Irene 1989 Review of Anthropological History of Andean Polities, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. American Ethnologist 16(2):400-401. Spector, Ivan 1952 Review of The Soviet Linguistic Controversy by John Victor Murra, Robert M. Hankin, and Fred Holling, among other works. American Slavic and East European Review 11(1):82-83. Villamarin, Juan A. 1989 Review of Anthropological History of Andean Politics, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan 63 - Block and Barnes: John V. Murra Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. Ethnohistory 36(2):204-206. 2005 Review of Historia General de América Latina, Volume 1, Los sociedades originarias, edited by Teresa Rojas Rabiela and John Victor Murra. Hispanic American Historical Review 85(3):499500. Weinberg, Gregorio 1982 Crónica, alegato y utopía, review of El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno by Guaman Poma de Ayala. La Nación, 14 February, pp. 2-3, (Buenos Aires); also published in El Comercio 20 March, 1985 (Lima). Willey, Gordon R. 1944 Review of Survey and Excavations in Southern Ecuador by Donald Collier and John Victor Murra. American Anthropologist 46(1, part 1):129-131. Zuidema, R. Tom 1982 Review of El primer nueva crónica y buen gobierno, edited by John V. Murra and Rolena Adorno with Jorge L. Urioste. Latin American Indian Literatures 6(2):126-132. Bibliography compiled by David Block, Bibliographer, Benson Latin American Collection, University of Texas at Austin and Monica Barnes 29 October 2009 Reconstruction of Huánuco Pampa as directed by John Victor Murra and Gordon Hadden (1966). Photo courtesy of the Anthropology Division, American Museum of Natural History. JOHN VICTOR MURRA: A MENTOR TO WOMEN John Victor Murra in his official portrait as the first National Science Foundation Post-Doctoral Fellow at the Smithsonian Institution (1966-67) INTRODUCTION Heather Lechtman and Freda Yancy Wolf de Romero In considering a contribution to the special section of Andean Past 9 that honors John Murra and that documents an historic era in Andean anthropology, both of us agreed that a unique contribution should come from women who were students and colleagues of John Murra. The most accurate and honest way to document the strong support and unwavering commitment Murra gave to women at various stages in their intellectual and professional lives was to ask them to write their own versions of ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 65-85. what it means to have been his student and colleague and to have been mentored by him. We contacted a few women–there are many more–from North and South America and asked each to comment on the ways in which Murra affected her development and maturation as an anthropologist. We added our own perspectives. It is remarkable to see the similarities in these accounts, not having consulted with each other. As Freda notes, “How quickly we recognized him, and perhaps he us.” Some of the women whose texts appear here were students of John Murra. All of us were his colleagues. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) ANTHROPOLOGY IS MY VILLAGE HEATHER LECHTMAN Cambridge, Massachusetts The Andean achievement is to combine such very different things into a single system. There is a tendency in the social and human sciences to diminish differences. Then there is the other stance, which is mine, that wants to emphasize, to the point of exaggeration, the Andean achievement, the effort it took to combine all of that. Anthropology is the science of differences, whereas science in general is the systematic knowledge of uniformities. But ours, no. Ours is a paean to difference.1 (John Murra, in Castro et al. 2000:140-142. Translation by the author) I knew John Murra for 54 years. We met in 1952, when he was a new lecturer in anthropology at Vassar College and I was a sixteen year old freshwoman determined to study physics there. During those 54 years I would say that the two most consequential and persistent identities he allowed himself were as a soldier in the International Brigades of the Spanish Civil War and as an anthropologist. Murra refused to be consigned to any category, a social tendency in the U.S. that he hated. Born in Russia, he was no Russian, nor did he consider himself Romanian, though he left Romania for the United States at the age of seventeen. He did not want or need a nationality. When abroad he might respond 1 El logro de lo andino es combinar en un solo sistema cosas tan distintas. Es que hay una tendencia en las ciencias sociales y humanas a reducir diferencias. Y hay la otra posición, que es la mía, de querer enfatizar y hasta exagerar el logro, el esfuerzo que toma combinar todo esto. La Antropología es la ciencia de las Diferencias. Mientras que la ciencia en general, es la ciencia de Uniformidades. Y lo nuestro no. Lo nuestro es un canto de la diferencia. - 66 when questioned that he was from North America. By his east European upbringing he was culturally very much a Jew, but he avoided any affiliations, personal, political, or otherwise with Jews that might have been founded on a sense of shared roots. Murra was a soldier in the international army that helped the people of Spain fight against fascism. The only identity card he carried with him and curated protectively throughout his life was his Livret Militaire, issued on 14 April 1937 by the Ministerio de Defensa Nacional, República Española, Brigadas Internacionales, Ejército de Tierra. For political party, the ministerio entered “Antifascist”. For profession, “Student of Archaeology”. By 15 May 1938 the carnet registers Murra as Squadron Leader in the 15th Brigade. I have Murra’s International Brigade carnet and will deliver it to the Archive of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, located at the Tamiment Library, New York University. However, it is his identity as an anthropologist that Murra’s students experienced and that most of us appropriated. For Murra, anthropology was a way of life, an attitude by which one could relate to, capture the peopled world, and recognize the multiplicity of solutions humans devised to manage that world. In his several day interview with his Chilean colleagues–Victoria Castro, Carlos Aldunate, and Jorge Hidalgo (2000)–he makes his position clear. Ever since he discovered anthropology at the age of eighteen, in Radcliffe-Brown’s2 classes at the University of Chicago, his concerns both as a social scientist and as a political actor on this planet remained anthropological concerns. He declared himself an anthropologist, first and foremost, because he was interested in and invested in an alternative to the world in which we live presently. If there 2 For Radcliffe-Brown see Barnes, this volume, note 8. 67 were no interest in human diversity, there would be no anthropology (2000:75). When I studied at Vassar, from 1952 to 1956, there was one constant theme he drummed into us, regardless of the subject matter of the course: the existence and continuity of cultural differences. Murra’s eye was always on the multiplicity and adaptability of solutions to what is essentially the human social condition. The responsibility of anthropology was to discover, to broadcast, and to champion human social and cultural diversity. That responsibility was not only his, he made it ours. He insisted that the fundamental contributions anthropology made to social science were the concept of culture and the methodology of field-work. During my Vassar years Murra did not offer classes on the Andean world. After his legal battle in the federal courts to be accorded U.S. citizenship, which he won in 1950, the government still denied him a passport. He was unable to travel to the Andes until 1956 when his passport was issued. Instead, Murra taught about African societies, especially because he was seriously involved in the political viabilities of newly established nations, such as Ghana and Nigeria. He taught about the Nuer and the indigenous peoples of the North American Plains. We learned about culture. But there was something else I recognized in Murra, long after having graduated from Vassar, that influenced my own intellectual trajectory profoundly. He was as interested in and excited by new approaches, uncommon methods by which to represent human diversity as in diversity itself. We all consider Murra an ethnohistorian. But he defined ethnohistory in his own terms: “By ethnohistory I mean that I am going to excavate but I am also going to read documents” (2000:80). It was that new combination of methodological approaches that John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women characterized his structuring of the Huánuco Viejo project in 1958. Archaeology and history were of a piece for Murra. He was unwilling to draw firm distinctions, to construct boundaries between them. I had met Murra in New York briefly in 1952, one month before beginning college. I decided to enroll in one of his anthropology classes. I wound up taking every anthropology course he and Helen Codere3 taught at Vassar and graduated with a double major, in physics and anthropology. My entire career has involved an effort to mesh the two fields, to contribute to anthropology from a platform built upon the physical and engineering sciences. Murra never tried to dissuade me from studying physics, nor did he exert pressure to focus my energies and interests solely on anthropology. He described himself as “interstitial”, as operating between systems rather than wholly within them. He understood what it took me decades to realize, that being interstitial locates one at interfaces, which is where the action is. In his own way he let me know that it was O.K. to be an interstitial. His goal was to discern and present cultural diversity through the mechanisms of anthropology. Those goals became mine. I understood that I might approach them with tools that could become tools of anthropology. Developing the tools was my responsibility. It was a responsibility that could stand as my reciprocal exchange with Murra–student to teacher. I did not continue with graduate school in cultural anthropology or in archaeology. Yet my materials engineering research that is focused on Andean prehistoric production technologies has been guided by a concern for identifying the culture of technologies. What was Andean about Andean metallurgy, and how and why did 3 For Codere see Barnes, this volume, note 42. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 68 it differ from metallurgies that developed in equally sophisticated ways in other ancient social settings? Ultimately my Andean studies led me to propose not only that technologies are culture bearing and culture producing systems, but that they may represent and display ethnocategories by which people order experience. Ethnocategories are rendered through technological behavior just as they are rendered linguistically. The utility of a materialsarchaeological approach, of focusing on what and how people do rather than on what and how they say, is that it confines us to detailed scrutiny of materials and their relationships in practice. Ethnocategories arise from patterns of technological practice, whether or not those patterns are labeled linguistically (Lechtman 1999: 223, 230). When I introduce students to my graduate, two semester seminar and laboratory classes in the materials science of material culture, I begin my remarks by assuring them that the class in which they are enrolled is not a class in laboratory analytical procedures, nor is it a “how to” class. It is an anthropology class. For Murra it was much more than O.K. for me to be interstitial. It was important, and with time we both understood his ease with respect to my dual professional education and his support for the ways in which my contributions to anthropology were expressed. His support helped me focus, and it surprised neither of us that my focus aimed at discerning cultural features of Andean technological behavior. Castro, Victoria, Carlos Aldunate, Jorge Hidalgo, editors 2000 Nispa Ninchis: Decimos Diciendo, Conversaciones con John Murra. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and New York: Institute of Andean Research. Lechtman, Heather 1999 Afterword. In The Social Dynamics of Technology, edited by Marcia-Anne Dobres and Christopher R. Hoffman, pp. 223-232. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Murra hated when North Americans asked him what he did. I learned to hate the question too. Usually I respond that I am a New Yorker. Only when pressed by those I admire do I reply, “I am an anthropologist.” Murra often declared, “Anthropology is my village.” What he gave me–what he gave to all his students–was his village. REFERENCES CITED John Victor Murra (second from viewer’s left) wearing two academic decorations presented to him on his 82nd birthday, August 24, 1998, by the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos and the Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cusco. Seated outside the Centro Cultural de San Marcos (La Casona) are, from left to right, AnaMaría Soldi, John Murra, Heather Lechtman, and Freda Wolf (photo: courtesy of Heather Lechtman). 69 - John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women MENTORS AS INTELLECTUAL PARENTS FREDA YANCY WOLF DE ROMERO Lima, Peru Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship (Robert Anderson, I Never Sang for My Father, 1966) The personal relationship one has with a mentor or intellectual father or mother is often ignored. It is important to recognize that such relationships are significant in academic disciplines, as they are in life in general, and are very much part of what graduate schools advocate as scholars learning from scholars. Just as we feel some aspects of our childhood and family relationships were “good” or “bad” and these perceptions consciously or unconsciously affect how we relate to the world, they also exist in our professional and intellectual lives and what we want to accomplish and pass on, trying to improve or equal what we received from others. Teachers are important all through life to help fill the gaps and empty spaces in our experience and early family life. I met John Murra in the spring of 1963 at the American Ethnological Society meeting at Cornell University. I was 20 and a sophomore at Barnard about to go to Mexico for a first field experience with Gary Martin, a student of Murra and Sidney Mintz1 at Yale, who was giving a paper in the Elsie Clews Parsons2 essay 1 2 For Mintz see Barnes, this volume, note 60. Elsie Clews Parsons (1875-1941) received her doctorate in sociology from Columbia University (1899). She was a founder of the New School for Social Research and of the American School of Research, the first female president of the American Anthropological Association, and president of the American Ethnological Society. For over twenty years she was an associate of the Journal of American Folklore. Her publications include The Social Organization of the Tewa of New Mexico (1929), Hopi and Zuni Ceremonialism (1933), Pueblo Indian Religion (1939), and Mitla: competition. Murra, at that point, was about to begin the Huánuco Project, about which he spoke at the AES meetings. Murra, Martin, and I drove from Ithaca back to New York City together. It was a magical trip. Murra was in his element. He was a terrific actor with a dynamic stage presence who found his best voice when he was in front of an audience, so he was in excellent form in the afterglow from the AES meetings. He also loved nothing better than a young audience who hung on his every word, which we certainly did. In addition to giving us insightful advice about our upcoming field experience and Mexico, he told us about the forthcoming multidisciplinary Huánuco project– encompassing ethnohistory, archaeology, ethnobotany, and ethnology. He talked about the Huánuco visita (Ortiz 1967 [1562]) and about Peru and psychoanalysis and made me see the world in a way I had never seen it before. I had also never met a 46 year old man who was so alive and open to change. I had already recognized I was an anthropologist, which is not something you choose, but something you discover about yourself. When I heard my first lecture in physical anthropology as a freshman, I could finally put a name to what I knew I was, even though I also knew it was not physical anthropology that I wanted to do. Courses in other disciplines just seemed to be bad anthropology, and I graduated from Barnard with more than double the number of credits I needed for the major. I served an apprenticeship with Murra on and off for several years, and in exchange I was his assistant. My own father died when I was a child and my experience with John patched over Town of the Souls (1936). Every other year the American Ethnological Society awards the Elsie Clews Parsons prize for a graduate student paper. Her obituary by Leslie Spier and A.L. Kroeber appeared in a 1943 number of the American Anthropologist. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) some of the paternal gap. I think of Murra as my intellectual father. I acted as a sounding board for him and helped him write, which was not a simple task. This was partly because English, which he spoke very well, was not his mother tongue, but mostly because it was very hard for him to just spill out all the information he had worked so hard to glean and understand, so that just anybody could read it, and besides, somebody might say he was wrong. This last is really more realistic than paranoid, because in anthropology there is almost nothing one can say about a culture and even less about culture or cultures in general that is not controversial. He also wrote better when he had someone to accompany him, argue with him, to rejoice with him at those “eureka” moments, and to blame when he was lit up by a possible connection which didn’t pan out. He told me he could only write with Karl Reisman,3 Irving Goldman4 and me. I never met the other two so cannot generalize. We do not always choose what we learn from our mentors and our teachers. Murra once 3 Karl Reisman earned a Ph.D. in social anthropology with a speciality in anthropological linguistics. He has published articles on aspects of the language and culture of the West Indies and of Africa. 4 Irving Goldman (1911-2002) was one of Franz Boas’ last students. A life-long resident of Brooklyn, he was John Murra’s neighbor for a time. From 1936 to 1942 he was a member of the Communist Party. Goldman did field-work with the Modoc of Oregon (1934), with the Alkatcho Carrier of British Columbia (1935-36), and with the Cubeo of the Amazon (1939), as well as library research on other groups. He was interested in issues of culture change and political evolution, often re-interpreting anthropological works. Among his publications are The Cubeo: Indians of the Northwest Amazon (1963); Ancient Polynesian Society (1970), an analysis of the region’s status systems, and The Mouth of Heaven (1975), on the Kwakiutl (now designated the Kwakwaka'wakw). From 1949 to 1980 he taught at Sarah Lawrence College. An obituary of Goldman by Paula Rubel and Abraham Rosman appeared in the December 2003 issue of American Anthropologist. - 70 remarked he learned how to answer the phone from Robert Redfield,5 to whom I think he was an assistant in the Chicago days. An anthropologist he held in great esteem was Ruth Benedict,6 with whom he had also worked in the early days. I think because of his own difficulties in liberating himself, he tried to help women to liberate themselves. In 1964, he gave me Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook, now a feminist classic, but at the time the novel had only been published a couple of years before. He very much approved of people creating themselves and changing their names to fit the new person they had become; he favored psychoanalysis. He had particular sympathy for women. I think he was especially sensitive to and intrigued by women because mothering was the largest gap in his own childhood. He especially sympathized with prom queens, lonely, shy intellectuals, and nuns, and others who felt trapped by what other people expected of them. He accepted you as you were, was supportive of what you wanted to do, and very good about helping you find where it fit the larger anthropological picture, and finding ways of doing it. Murra always took women seriously, treating us with an intellectual respect I had not always found at Barnard, and in the beginning I was very young and knew virtually nothing about the Andes. He emphasized the importance of field-work, and of knowing the people well where you were doing field-work. This included not only the people whose culture you were studying, but also local intellectuals. It was essential to participate in the culture of anthropology in the country where you did research, and to maintain long-term relationships (read lifetime commitments) both with colleagues and informants. You could not ever really know the culture unless you spoke 5 For Redfield see Barnes, this volume, note 11. 6 For Benedict see Barnes, this volume, note 32. 71 the local indigenous language as well as the national language, in the latter case, well enough to perform professional acts such as giving papers, publishing results, teaching, attending professional meetings, and participating in, or helping form, the discipline of anthropology in the country where you did research. It was the way to protect anthropology, not to mention the fact that we will never have a true anthropology until we have anthropologists of all different cultural backgrounds. He believed in anthropology for its importance to the informants themselves, who were always the people who had a vested interest in their own culture and history. One of his favorite examples was how important Ruth Landes’ work with the Mdewakantonwan Santee (called by others the Mystic Lake Sioux) was to the Santee themselves, when years after her field-work they realized they had lost a lot of their culture and were trying to retrieve it. He was always aware of the importance of trying to find out as much as possible about the Andean past because it was important to Andean people to know their own past, to be able to shape an authentic identity of their own. Andean peoples have only recently begun to have even limited space in the history books used in their national schools. My own ethnohistorical work was with the sixteenth and early seventeenth century Aymara and Quechua dictionaries, grammar books, and manuals written by Catholic priests as aids in their proselytization efforts. I did a study of Aymara kinship based on the terminology and information found in these sources, kinship being a particular concern of the church. In Juli on Lake Titicaca, I copied and photographed about eighty parish books recording births, deaths, and baptisms, all in the European system but with the occasional Andean detail that made it all worthwhile, especially because most of the early books are organized in terms of Andean ayllus from 1621 until roughly the time John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women of independence (1821). Searching Catholic parish records from the former Lupaqa kingdom to study Aymara social organization historically was, of course, very much in the Murra tradition. I even found a baptism book in one of the coastal valleys where the Lupaqa had “islands” of resources where they cultivated crops that couldn’t be grown in their altiplano kingdom. In the 1670s their descendants were still in the coastal valley and still claiming membership in the ayllus located up above in the seven divisions of the Lupaqa kingdom. In addition to the usual participation in anthropology and ethnohistory meetings in Lima and Cusco, I taught an anthropology course to young people from rural zones around Puno as part of a teacher training course in a normal school in Puno, and participated with international development teams in writing new bilingual textbooks in Aymara-Spanish and in Quechua-Spanish, teaching them anthropology, and suggesting chapters on local themes such as planting, harvesting, and fiestas. It is sometimes surprising to realize what we have internalized from our mentors and intellectual fathers and mothers, the parts of them that live within us. I think I trained in psychoanalytic psychotherapy largely due to Murra’s indirect influence, and, although my interest began with cultural anthropology and ethnohistory, it moved toward the interface of culture and psychology. While I did not follow an academic career, Murra greatly influenced the work I did in ethnohistory, my writing, work with patients, and also my personal and family life. Having married into a Peruvian family and raising children in Peru, keeping or regaining a cultural perspective certainly saved my sanity on more than one occasion. Murra looked upon everything as anthropology and was often frustrated by his departmental colleagues in the universities in which he taught because they didn’t apply anthropology to themselves or the world around them. In the case of women ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Murra recognized the huge difference women’s reproductive cycle and child-rearing activities, as well as their culturally ascribed roles, make in their professional lives, and was good at considering individual strategies in working with these differences, as well as building on the peculiarities of personal backgrounds. He also recognized the value of the motherhood experience. I once commented to Murra about the differences between the conversations of groups of women and those of groups of men. He looked thoughtful, and said, “But at least the women talk about real things.” Murra was complex, conflictive, brilliant, and an anthropologists’ anthropologist. He was true to anthropology and his friends, though often nicer behind your back than to your face. Anthropology was not just his profession or his discipline, it really was his village, although it stretched over the globe, and particularly in Europe, the United States, and Latin America, he had friends who cared deeply about him. Anthropology is where he lived, it is what he loved, what he defended. He left us a rich legacy which is internalized within us as much as it exists on library shelves and has become an integral part of our vision of the Andean world and anthropology. He never tried to persuade or dissuade us that we could or could not do anything as women, he always assumed we could. And thank heaven, he did not make being married a requirement for women to be able to go into the field as Boas did with his very famous women students Ruth Benedict, Ruth Landes,7 and Margaret Mead.8 7 Ruth Landes (1908-1991) did field-work among the Objibwa, the Dakota, and the Potawatomi, obtaining a doctorate in 1935. On this basis she published Ojibwa Sociology (1937), Ojibwa Woman (1938), Ojibwa Religion and the Midéwiwin (1968), and The Mystic Lake Sioux (1968). Landes pioneered the study of race and gender relations, interests reflected in her study of candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian religion (City of Women 1947). Landes had strong interests in Afro-American, Jewish, Mexican, and - 72 AN EXTRAORDINARY TEACHER WHO TAUGHT ALL THE TIME PATRICIA NETHERLY Nashville, Tennessee I have always felt privileged to have had the opportunity to train under John Murra. That this opportunity came my way was largely his doing. We met in 1966, at a seminar at la Católica, a university in Lima where I was studying in the doctoral program in history. John was just finishing the Huánuco Project and still had research materials to hand. He sat me down to practice paleography on a microfilmed roll of notarial documents–all in letra cadinilla– which in the hands of sixteenth century notaries’ clerks became a kind of shorthand. I could not make much progress, but my perseverance was sufficient to earn me an invitation to apply to Cornell for graduate work. John Murra was an extraordinary teacher, and he taught all the time. The first semester of graduate school began the summer before with an intensive Quechua course where John was one of the students. He believed that knowing this language was indispensable for a full understanding of Andean culture in the present, and in the past. To an unusual degree, John directed his teaching toward students and scholars from the Andean region. That first semester we met twice a week with the late César Fonseca Martel, who had carried out ethnographic research as part of the Huánuco project. César was attempting to map out the meaning of the term ayllu. None of us knew at the start exactly where the full meaning lay, but John kept asking questions with exquisite patience until the moment arrived when the Louisiana Acadian cultures. Her biography, Ruth Landes: A Life in Anthropology is by Sally Cooper Cole (2002). 8 For Mead see Barnes, this volume, note 33. 73 - John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women breakthrough in understanding finally came to César and to us all. relationship and is a credit to his extraordinary humanity. Above all, the lesson and the legacy which infused John’s work were his profound respect for, and understanding of, the peoples of the Andes and their achievements. He celebrated their mastery of a harsh and exacting environment and the skills they demonstrated in farming, herding, water management, and weaving. Beyond the study of living people, Murra looked to colonial administrative records, particularly the visitas, or official inspection tours, where local leaders sought to explain their culture to the Spaniards. His honesty and rigor in the use of these materials can be seen in the way he laid out the words of Andean people in full quotation. His careful editions of colonial visitas and other documents, which he encouraged his former students and colleagues to publish, are his achievement and his enduring memorial to the creators of Andean civilization. KICKING OFF A NEW PERSPECTIVE IN ETHNOHISTORY I had originally trained as an historian. Studying in Peru had opened the possibility of combining archaeology and linguistics with history in the study of the past, but I had a very hazy idea of anthropology and ethnohistory when I began to work with John Murra as a graduate student. In truth, I was a bit more ecumenical than he was comfortable with. However, one of Murra’s sterling virtues as a graduate adviser was that while he insisted that you do something in a particular way, he did not stand in the way of your doing it. It is hard for bright women to realize their potential. I didn’t go to graduate school in the United States until after I had “discovered” or been “discovered by” John Murra. It probably would be better to say recognized: we mutually recognized each other. John was remarkably patient with the travails of balancing career and family and was always kind to my children in an Old World avuncular way. This goes way beyond the formal academic ANA MARÍA LORANDI Buenos Aires, Argentina I had the opportunity to get to know John Victor Murra, and to speak with him extensively, during a rock art conference which took place in Huánuco, Peru in 1967. At that time I was conducting archaeological research in northwestern Argentina and had a general background in the Andean world. The date is very significant because, during these years, Murra was kicking off a new perspective in ethnohistory, approaching colonial sources with the eye of an anthropologist. Murra had been working on the interdisciplinary project of Huánuco Pampa and had analyzed the earliest visitas (colonial inspection tour reports). On this occasion he presented his model of “vertical control of ecological niches”, or “archipelagos” as he later called them. Along with other congress participants we made an excursion to the great Inca tambo, and, without any doubt, this first direct contact with Tawantinsuyu, guided by Murra’s fascinating discourse, was the first change in direction of my professional career. From this moment we remained in contact and my research, as well as the courses I offered at the Universidad de la Plata, reflected the interdisciplinary perspective which Murra promoted. A short time later I prepared an article in which I analyzed and compared various models, presenting a global focus on social interaction in the Andean world from the double perspective of archaeology and ethnohistory (Lorandi 1977). These frameworks were Murra’s model of vertical control (Murra 1972), Augusto Cardich’s study of the upper limits of ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) cultivation (Cardich 1975), and the Huari y Llacuaz article by Pierre Duviols (Duviols 1973), an exploration of the prehispanic dual organization of farmers and herders. In the original work I also incorporated an analysis of María Rostworowski’s coastal dynamics (Rostworowski 1974), but because of problems with length I had to eliminate it. Murra really appreciated my analytic approach. When, in 1971, I visited him in New York and accompanied him to Yale University where he taught at that time, he encouraged me to disseminate my work. It was subsequently published in France (Lorandi 1978) and in England (Lorandi 1986) as a synthesis. On this trip to the United States, on his advice, and through the contacts he gave me, I visited the Universities of Illinois and Michigan and gave seminars in those places. In the following years, even though I continued with my archaeological research in Argentina, I kept abreast with developments in ethnohistory, and each encounter with Murra at different congresses, plus our frequent exchange of letters, increased my interest in the subject. However, the years I lived in Paris, 1976 to 1979, plus earlier visits, were decisive and produced a substantial change in the course of my professional career. I offered seminars at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, but, more importantly, I attended those offered by Nathan Wachtel1 and his group in which, in 1978, John Murra also participated. Murra’s pioneering teaching was the central axis of the themes tackled. 1 Editors’ note: Nathan Wachtel is Professor of History and the Anthropology of South and Meso-American Societies at the Collège de France and Director of Studies at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales. Among his published works are Vision des vaincus: Les indien du Pérou devant la conquêt espagnole (1971), Anthropologie historique des sociétés andines (edited with Jacques Revel and John V. Murra, 1978), and Dieux et vampires: Retour à Chipaya (1992). - 74 When I returned to Argentina in 1980, I began my first ethnohistorical research and progressively I abandoned archaeology. In 1984 the Universidad de Buenos Aires offered me the directorship of the Instituto de Ciencias Anthropológicas of the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters. The following year I founded the Ethnohistory Section within the Institute. From then on I could dedicate myself completely to developing this discipline which lacked up-todate specialists in Argentina. I devoted myself to research, but above all, to training new students who incorporated John Murra’s teaching into a core understanding of the Andean world. Murra visited us in 1982 and in 1988 and participated in the First Congress of Ethnohistory (Primer Congreso de Etnohistoria) which I organized in Buenos Aires in 1989, an occasion on which he was paid a special tribute. Murra was my tie to the academic world outside my country. Frequently I met foreign specialists who, when I presented myself, immediately told me, “Ah. John Murra has spoken to me very favorably of you!” I always had the feeling that he had been the promoter of my professional career, but, above all, that he had made a substantial change in my life. I recognize that I embraced ethnohistory with much greater passion than archaeology, perhaps because my original education in history allowed me to involve myself in a more humanistic manner with Andean society which, even though modified by the long colonial process, still retains the cultural pattern which Murra identified as the essence of “lo andino”or Andean-ness. In personal terms I can say that in ethnohistory I found my place in the world, not only with the subjects I researched, but also through the chance to educate students, and to develop the discipline in my country. Without John Victor Murra my life would have been different. It was my good fortune that we met on life’s 75 - John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women road when I was just 31 years old and could reorientate myself thanks to this great teacher of teachers. THE ABILITY TO BESTOW CONFIDENCE AND STIMULATE NEW IDEAS VICTORIA CASTRO Santiago de Chile Translated from the Spanish by Monica Barnes REFERENCES CITED Cardich, Augusto 1975 Agricultores y pastores en Lauricocha y límites superiores del cultivo. Revista del Museo Nacional 41:11-36 (Lima). Duviols, Pierre 1973 Huari y Llacuaz: Agricultores y pastores: Un dualismo prehispánico de oposición y complementariedad. Revista de Museo Nacional 39: 95117 (Lima). Lorandi, Ana María 1977 Arqueología y etnohistoria: Hacia una visión totalizadora del Mundo Andino. In Obra del centenario del Museo de La Plata, Volume 2, pp. 27-50. La Plata, Argentina: Facultad de Ciencias Naturales y Museo. 1978 Les horizons andines: Critique d’un modèle. Annales: Economie, Societé, Civilization 33(56):921-926. Special issue edited by Jacques Revel, John Victor Murra, and Nathan Wachtel. 1986 Horizons in Andean Archaeology. In Anthropological History of Andean Polities, edited by John Victor Murra, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press and Paris: Editions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme. Murra, John Victor 1972 El Control vertical de un máximo de pisos ecológicos en la economía de las sociedades andinas. In Visita de la provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562 by Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga, edited by John V. Murra, Volume 2, Visita de los Yacha y mitmaqkuna cuzqueños encomendados en Juan Sanchez Falcon, transcribed by Felipe Márquez Abanto, pp. 427-476. Huánuco, Perú: Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Facultad de Letras y Educación, Series Documentos para la Historia y Etnología de Huánuco y la Selva Central. Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, María 1974 Pescadores, artesanos y mercaderes costeños en el Perú prehispánico. Revista del Museo Nacional 41:311-349. No one can doubt John Murra’s ability to bestow confidence and stimulate new ideas among his students. The notable thing about this surprising relationship is that he never discriminated in this form of instruction between men and women. He simply appreciated the modesty, talent, and honesty of people. I first met John Murra in 1971 when I was an anthropology student. On the occasion of the Congress of Archaeology we received visitors at the University of Chile and I was dazzled by two teachers, John Victor Murra and Luis Guillermo Lumbreras.1 Both embodied a dynamic notion of history, and of the Andean world, for sure. Their commitment to work left an indelible imprint on me, and also significantly marked my path in life, as a graduate student, as a teacher, and as a researcher, up to the present. The summer school course which John taught at the University of Chile in January 1984 included an analysis of the possibilities of the comparative method, the topic of exchange, the new work of Nathan Wachtel2 in Cochabamba, Bolivia on the collca or storehouses of the Inca, along with criticism of Murra’s own work, and the inculcation of the necessity to study and republish documents continuously. Among the themes to which he called our attention was the miracle of the potato, ethnological advances, and work in native languages up to and including recent Andean 1 Editors’ note: for Lumbreras, see Barnes, this volume, note 90. 2 Editors’ note: for Wachtel see Lorandi, note 1. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) ethno-astronomy, to say nothing of his closest specialities such as changes in, and the expansion of, Tawantinsuyu; weavers and potters; coca fields; and mullu or Spondylus shell. When I presented him with the proposal for my master’s thesis, directed by Rolando Mellafe at the University of Chile he commented to me: “. . . The thesis project. I will tell you that the plan of study seems to me to be only a first approximation . . . But, you also have to tell yourself that I have never studied religious phenomena, and I don’t feel prepared, on one hand, but on the other hand, the fact is that these themes attract me. I have had many debates with [Pierre] Duviols3 on the theme to the point that he believes that I must occupy myself with it, an area in which I know very well that I don’t have any sensibilities and I don’t touch such themes. I was reared in an atmosphere in which the anti-clerical struggle was a fundamental element, and this has left psychological roots, although not intellectual ones. Now I know through the reading of so many old papers that there was always an important struggle involving the priests and friars of the first century and a half of the colonial occupation . . . I believe that this isn’t reflected in your project. Even though we don’t have direct data on the Andean population, we can focus on the reflection of what happens in the ecclesiastical literature” (Murra, personal communication, 25 February 1986).4 3 Editors’ note: for Duviols see Barnes, this volume, note 54. 4 “. . . el proyecto de tesis. Te diré que el programa me parece sólo un primer bosquejo. . . Pero también tienes que darte cuenta que yo nunca he estudiado fenómenos religiosos, ya que no me siento preparado, por un lado, - 76 During the course of my research, on a visit to Santiago, I gave him the work to read, and so that he could comment upon the first chapter of this thesis, in which, to some extent, I had considered his suggestions. Eleven years later he wrote from Madrid, “Congratulations on having finished the thesis! And it’s 530 pages!” Who else could have shared the joy, although I had delayed eleven years in finishing Huacca muchay: Evangelización y religión andina en Charcas, Atacama colonial (Huaca Worship: Evangelization and Andean Religion in Charcas, Colonial Atacama). At some point I sent him a work on terraces, a small article in a scientific journal, and he wrote to me that, This is a theme which merits a great deal of attention . . . One of the agreeable things about Creces is seeing your name as an author identified with the Universidad de Chile” (personal communication, 12 May 1988).5 At this time we were still under military government and any kind of stability was difficult. pero por otro el hecho es que me atraen estos temas. Con Duviols he tenido muchos debates sobre el tema ya que el cree que yo tengo que ocuparme, donde yo se muy bien donde no tengo sensibilidad y no toco tales temas. He sido criado dentro de un ambiente donde la lucha anti-clerical era elemento fundamental y esto ha dejado raíces psicológicas aunque no intelectuales. Ahora sé que la lectura de tantos papeles viejos que siempre hubo una lucha importante involucrando los sacerdotes y frailes del primer siglo y medio de la ocupación colonial–creo que esto no está reflejado en tu proyecto. Ya que no tenemos datos directos de la población andina, tenemos que fijarnos en el reflejo de lo que pasaba en la literatura eclesiástica.” 5 Es un tema que merece mucha atención. . . una de las reflexiones agradables de Creces es ver tu nombre como autora identificado con la Universidad de Chile. 77 He never stopped thanking me for so much care and effort expended on the transcription of the audio tapes of the interviews which later gave form to Nispa Ninchis. My fellow editors Carlos Aldunate and Jorge Hidalgo and I overwhelmed him with our questions during a stay which we shared with John for this purpose in Zapallar, on the Chilean coast. During the long process of correcting these transcriptions John demonstrated infinite patience and I, after a while, learned many things. John’s replies never ceased surprising us. In personal terms, like so many of us, in some way he made you a participant in his decisions and sought your opinions while relating various situations. His correspondence provided, at the same time, lessons on the world and, especially, on people. He stimulated and pleased with his very special manner of teaching. However, without doubt the strongest aspect was the demonstration that he believed in you and your work, something which was not merely intellectual, but also involved you completely as a human being. Ever since 1983, when he listened to, and commented on, our work on the altiplano origins of the Toconce Phase (13001450 A.D.; Castro et al.1984), he showed us his interest and approval. His opinions created in me a solid confidence in the work we were doing, as well as in my intuitions, and, along with that, a very powerful tie of friendship and trust. I will never forget how he spoke about women he admired. For example he said that Heather Lechtman was “an extraordinary person with much imagination” (personal communication, 1977). This was praise I heard him deliver in many forms– towards his extraordinary friend and doctor Lola Hoffman,6 6 Editors’ note: Lola Hoffman (d. 1988) was a psychoanalyst who treated both Murra and his friend the Peruvian novelist, essayist, poet and anthropologist, José María John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women and about the affection and loyalty of Freda Wolf and AnaMaría Soldi.7 Murra solidified my holistic comprehension of the Andean world, and of history, and gave me the certainty that by combining the separate tactics of anthropology, archaeology, ethnohistory, and ethnography one could increase the enormous complexity of its unique cultural history. Translated from the Spanish by Monica Barnes REFERENCE CITED Castro, Victoria, Carlos Aldunate, and José Berenguer 1984 Origenes altiplanicos de la fase Toconce. Estudios Atacameños 7:209-235. THE GREEN PATCHWORK PAPER ROLENA ADORNO New Haven, Connecticut As I reflect on the role that John Murra played in the development of my intellectual and professional academic life, I focus on the lessons I learned from him as a teacher. Murra was perhaps the most exciting professor I had in graduate school, but we got off to a rocky start. Having decided in 1972 that I wanted to concentrate on colonial Spanish American literature as my field of specialization in the doctoral program in Romance Studies, Spanish, at Cornell University, I was advised by faculty in my department to take a course or two on Andean ethnohistory and civilization from Professor Murra. So I went to his office at advising time, taking my turn among the students lined up to see him. When I introduced myself and told him that I was interested in Arguedas. 7 Editors’ note: for AnaMaría Soldi, see Barnes, this volume, note 67. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) studying El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, he glowered down at me and, scowling, asked: “Why not Guaman Poma?” I shrank back, shaken, and I did not gather the courage to return until a semester later. That was the beginning of a long and productive professional and personal relationship. As a teacher, I found John’s passion for the Andean world to be both daunting and inspiring. No dilettanti welcomed in his classroom! When an undergraduate student (this was a mixed, graduate-undergraduate seminar that met in the ethereal realms of McGraw Hall) explained that he would very much like to go to the Andes for research the following summer but had no money to do so, John (glowering again) said, “Well, ask your parents to refinance their home!” He’d made his point, and no further whining or shedding of crocodile tears was tolerated. Typically, John would storm into the classroom, write the names and concepts he wanted to discuss on the blackboard, and dive in. While, according to today’s demands for mentoring and the like, John seemed indifferent to students, he was, in fact, carefully cultivating them, placing before each one what he thought might reach or direct his or her interests. It was sheer mastery, and this practice bespoke the seriousness with which he engaged his students as well as his subject matter. Writing papers for his courses always resulted in his careful, thoughtful readings and pertinent written comments. When, in the course of that seminar, I told John about Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco’s 1611 Tesoro de la lengua castellana, o española, he immediately and enthusiastically ordered several photocopies of the entire out-of-print 1943 edition to make them available for purchase by his students, complementing his active use of the QuechuaSpanish dictionaries of that era. New sources, new research tools, new questions were greatly welcomed by him. In all these ways, and many more, John Murra provided a pedagogical model - 78 that I still strive to live up to in and outside the classroom after thirty-plus years of university teaching. In Murra’s encouragement of students’ work, I was one of those on whom he focused, despite the fact that I was not an anthropologist-intraining. It was, of course, my literary-studies work with texts and literary history that he saw as promising. To stimulate my interest he placed before me his two-part article in Natural History, published in 1961, “Guaman Poma de Ayala: A Seventeenth-Century Indian’s Account of Andean Civilization” and “The Post-Conquest Chronicle of the Inca State’s Rise and Fall”, not to mention the 1936 Paris facsimile edition of the Nueva corónica y buen gobierno. He showed me the sheaf of typewritten notes that he had taken on that work over the years, and this became the basis for the ethnological index in our print (1980, 1987) and online (2001, 2004) editions of Guaman Poma’s manuscript. John encouraged my reading of the Nueva corónica, which resulted in my doctoral dissertation, the title of which described the Nueva corónica as a “lost chapter in the history of Latin American letters”. Because I asked other questions than John did about Guaman Poma’s writing (I was always interested in what the Andean chronicler had read, his “library”), John found my thesis only mildly interesting. Yet, after I completed my Cornell Ph.D. and was on the faculty of the Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures at Syracuse University, John suggested that I take two particular chapters of it and make it into an article for publication. It resulted in “Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala: An Andean View of the Peruvian Viceroyalty, 1565-1615” published in the Journal de la Société des Américanistes (1978) which, at least in my own view, has withstood the test of time. Its writing was another story, and it is the last one I will tell here. John and I met periodically at his McGraw Hall office in Ithaca 79 that autumn semester, 1977 (during his famous Otoño Andino, see Barnes, this volume, p. 39), as I worked through draft after draft of the article. It was a difficult essay to write, not only because I was a novice at academic writing (it would be my second article), but also, primarily, because the article had many goals. The discrete, manageable objective was to set forth Guaman Poma’s readings of the works of others, as evidenced in his chronicle, documenting them as carefully as possible. My breakthrough was having just discovered, two years postdissertation, that Guaman Poma, without attribution, had quoted and paraphrased Fray Bartolomé de las Casas’s unpublished “Tratado de las doce dudas” (1564), which was integral to the Andean chronicler’s arguments about the need for Spaniards to obey Andean law (instead of vice versa) and his formulation of a proposal to restore Andean sovereignty. My discovery of Guaman Poma’s unnamed source showed, among other things, that his nomination of his son as sovereign prince of “the Indies of Peru” was not sheer nonsense. It merely updated Las Casas’s proposal of a half century earlier in which the Dominican had recommended the restoration of Inca sovereignty in the person of Huayna Capac’s grandson, Titu Cussi Yupanqui, who in 1560, had been the reigning Inca at Vilcabamba, but whose rule, and that of his last successor, Thupaq Amaru, had ended decades before Guaman Poma wrote the Nueva corónica. He no doubt nominated his son precisely because the main Inca line had died out and a restoration candidate would have to be found. Another challenge of my study was to highlight the personalities and set forth the workings of Spanish missionary culture with which Guaman Poma was directly or indirectly engaged. Historical investigation and textual analysis came together uneasily. The difficulty was to create a coherently unfolding narrative exposition. John had the solution. In reference to my antepenultimate draft and with slight John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women exasperation, he said, “Give it to me. I’ll see what I can do.” I discovered when he returned the paper to me a week later that he had carefully cut it apart (those were the days of literally cutting and pasting), composed and typed up new transitional passages and internal conclusions, and pasted the whole back together with its new patches. “Here,” he said, handing it back to me, “see if this works.” And he placed in my hand my paper, sticky with glue and highlighted by his typewritten patches—highlighted because he had done this editorial work using a very clever pedagogical strategy of typing his sentences on scraps of pale green paper! The green-paper draft resulted in the finest writing lesson I have ever received. How I let this patchwork paper slip out of my files at some point over the years I do not know, and I am sorry that it is gone. But no matter. It exists in my memory as vividly as if I had it in front of me now. To my way of thinking, it represents John Murra’s pedagogical personality in its toughness and its extraordinary generosity. My acknowledgment to John’s memory in my The Polemics of Possession in Spanish American Narrative (2007) states it best. John was breathing his last as I wrote, in October, 2006, that he was “the greatest of teachers, for the example of his single-minded devotion to the pursuit of knowledge about the ancient Andes, his intellectual generosity, and his help in teaching me to write.” Here, just now, I have unlocked the secret of the last clause of that sentence. I went on to conclude, “Our collaboration in studying and editing the chronicle of Guaman Poma, which lasted from the typewriter age to the era of the Internet, stands as a testament to what I owe him.” That, of course, is another story, which I have attempted to tell in the special issue of Chungará to be published by the University of Arica, Tarapaca, Chile, which, like this section of Andean Past, will be devoted to John Murra’s memory and his multiple legacies. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) DO ANTHROPOLOGY THE WAY THAT POETS WRITE POETRY INGE MARIA HARMAN North Potomac, Maryland I remember with remarkable clarity my first encounter with John Murra. I was contemplating a graduate degree in anthropology with a special emphasis on the Andes and had traveled to Ithaca, New York specifically to meet Professor Murra and to determine what he was like, and if he was the teacher whom I and my husband, Roger Rasnake, were looking for. We thought that we would get some of our questions answered about anthropology at Cornell and learn some particulars about Professor Murra. We had been warned that he might not be interested in working with us and that we could expect him to be tough, demanding, and difficult. Now, after nearly thirty-five years of having known him–having studied with him and worked with him, having been mentored and supervised, and edited by him, having traveled together, attended meetings together, even cooked meals together–after thirty-five years of correspondence and visits and conversation, I can say, yes, indeed, John Murra was tough and demanding and sometimes difficult. But that was only a small fraction of what he was! He was also immensely knowledgeable. He was intellectually curious and extremely politically aware. He was adventuresome, entertaining, worldly-wise, and charming! In addition to all this, he was a committed teacher who believed that it was important to maintain a real and honest relationship with his students, who were expected to be as devoted to Andean research as he was. He did not hesitate to let you know when your efforts were inadequate. However, he also was open to his students’ ideas and readily recognized their contributions. He impressed upon us the great importance of studying - 80 indigenous Andean languages and encouraged his students to devote themselves to lengthy field- work and in-depth historical investigation. John was unlike any other teacher or college professor I ever encountered. It was not easy to convince him to take you on as a serious student. Once he did, he accepted you, not just as a student, but as a human being. He was committed to you and concerned about you as a person with a particular psychological, cultural, and social make-up. He also expected–insisted, really–that you deal with him as the complex person he was. He had a cultural heritage, a mother, a father, an intellectual formation, a political background, personal commitments, and an anthropological vision that made him the person he was, and he trusted that you would be cognizant of these things in your interactions with him. In studying a topic in a seminar, or in preparing for field research, John expected his students to develop a depth and breadth of understanding based on historical literacy that was, for anthropologists at least, of a breathtaking scale. For John, a time frame of five hundred or even a thousand years was scarcely adequate to answer the kinds of questions he posed about Andean society, polity, and ecology. Nonetheless, even when working and thinking in very broad historical and geographical terms, John never lost sight of the individual and the idiosyncrasies that shape human behavior and decision-making. All these characteristics combined to make John Murra an exciting and inspiring teacher and colleague. John believed that Andean cultural history was relevant for contemporary life. He felt strongly that the Andean history that he, and other like-minded scholars, were deciphering was of great relevance to social and political life in the modern Andean republics, and he communicated this understanding and this 81 excitement to his students and to scholars throughout the world of Andean studies. For John, every historical or archaeological revelation, every linguistic discovery, every investigation of Andean social and cultural practices contributed to the larger effort of accurately describing the Andean achievement, and each student’s contributions were recognized and appreciated as part of a larger effort. John was, undeniably, a charismatic speaker and lecturer who attracted scholars and activists–both men and women–to the cause of understanding the Andean accomplishment. It is worth pointing out that John liked women and enjoyed working with them. He had strong and positive relationships with many women, both students and colleagues. It never seemed to occur to him that women might be lacking in any of the physical, social, or intellectual skills that an anthropologist or historian might need to carry out her investigations. For someone of his generation, an awareness and appreciation of women as intellectual equals was not a given and was unusual even in university settings. The stream of visitors and correspondence that found its way to John’s door in his latter years is testimony to the fact that he had strong emotional ties to many women the world over. (Here I am not even considering his marriages or romantic liaisons.) It is important to note that, in my experience, John related to women, not in some sort of stereotypical, gender-driven way, but as individuals. Regardless of gender, he was challenging to work with and expected real commitment from his students, whether male or female. He was truly dedicated to the cause of Andean studies and worked best with those who shared that dedication. As a female grad student beginning my studies with him, I observed John working in a collegial fashion with women researchers and John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women academics from all parts of Latin America and Europe. Of course he also dealt with male scholars, publishers, university administrators, and others, cultivating a wide circle of influence and support. As a woman in an anthropology department with an almost exclusively male faculty, I took special notice of the scholarly exchanges and collaborative relationships he maintained with women around the world. I also noticed the strong personal relationships he had with current and former students and the loyalty they felt towards him. All these things motivated me, and my husband as well, to persevere in our efforts to convince Professor Murra to chair our doctoral committees and allow us to do doctoral research under his guidance and tutelage. After my years of class work, field-work preparations, and proposal writing at Cornell were over, John continued to maintain contact with me and my husband. During years of field research in the Andes, during dissertation writing and defense, during my first experiences of college teaching, during applied work in Bolivia, during my pregnancies and the early childhood years of my girls, John was a regular correspondent, an occasional guest in my home, and an ongoing part of my life. Remarkably, he was supportive of my decision to give up research and teaching and spend undivided time with my children. He was interested in my daughters as unique human beings and curious about the process of child rearing and socialization. John never ceased to expect that I would eventually find time to rededicate myself to the scholarly work that I had begun with my initial research on Andean reciprocities. He told me, not too long before his death, that he had begun the work of translating Collective Labor and Rituals of Reciprocity, my dissertation, into Spanish. His hope was to see it made available to an Andean audience. Of course, that hope ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) and the obligation to share that knowledge with an Andean public are mine as well. I recognize them, however, for what they are. They are his creation–his work in me, which I acknowledge and appreciate and intend to see to completion. One more interesting thing about John Murra is that I keep learning from him, even now after his death. Early in my sojourn at Cornell, I became aware that John had little patience with those who viewed anthropology as a “career”, a job, or a path up the academic ladder. John said more than once that we really shouldn’t expect to make a living from our anthropological inclinations. Because I was young and just starting my “career”, I found this stance a bit confusing. John made his vision a little clearer when he explained that we should do anthropology the way that poets write poetry. What he meant, of course, was that we should do it for the sheer love of it, and because we are compelled to do it. I may finally have reached a point in my life where I can truly comprehend his meaning. EIGHT THOUSAND SOLUTIONS TO THE SAME PROBLEM SILVIA RAQUEL PALOMEQUE Cordoba, Argentina I first met John Murra in 1984, soon after his retirement. He was 68 years old and I was 37. He was a professor at FLACSO, Quito (Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales in Quito) in its first master’s degree program in Andean History. This was a pioneering educational experiment in the history of the Andean region, not just of individual Andean countries, in which basic principles could be reestablished. Apart from one person from Spain, all of us students came from Andean countries or had lived in one of them for almost a decade. We arrived as graduates in different disciplines, and as was customary at FLACSO at that time, - 82 we had full fellowships so that we could devote ourselves to working towards a master’s degree which was the result of an academic “Andean” project, not of institutional financial interests. We didn’t know if John would come or not. He had only accepted us as students towards the end of the course, after we had taken classes with Luis Lumbreras,1 Carlos Sempat Assadourian, César Fonseca Martel, Tristan Platt, Frank Salomon, Magnus Mörner,2 and Segundo Moreno Yañez,3 among others. Professor Murra arrived just at the moment when the majority of students had broken not only with disciplinary boundaries, but also with our original academic areas, and, with a little awe, had begun to perceive something of the complex diversity of Andean culture, and of the specifics of the system of colonial domination, as well as the persistence and transformations of societies prior to the rupture of the colonial bond. In the 1 Editors’ note: for Lumbreras see Barnes, this volume, note 90; For Sempat Assadourian see Barnes, note 49; for Fonseca Martel see Barnes, note 97; for Platt see Barnes, note 64; and for Salomon see Barnes, note 48, and Salomon, this volume, pp. 87-102. 2 Editors’ note: Historian Magnus Mörner (b. 1924) is a prolific and multi-lingual author who has specialized in Latin America. Among his best known works are The Expulsion of the Jesuits from Latin America (1965), Race and Class in Latin America(1970), The Andean Past: Land, Societies, and Conflict (1985), and The Transformation of Rural Society in the Third World (1991). 3 Editors’ note: Ecuadorian Segundo Moreno Yañez (b. 1939) became an anthropologically oriented historian after a thorough grounding in philosophy, theology, and ancient languages. He studied at Bonn under the late Udo Oberem and wrote his dissertation on rebellions in the Audiencia de Quito. He is one of the founders of the Department of Anthropology of the Universidad Católica (Quito). He has been Director of the Sección de Antropología de la Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana and the founder of the Revista de Antropología Ecuatoriana. He has also held posts in the Instituto Otovaleño de Antropología and in the Banco Central del Ecuador, among other institutions. 83 meantime, nobody knew very clearly what to do with all this. John once told me that he had never had a dialogue with such eager students. As the years passed I realized that he appeared before us just at the point when we were ready for him. A large proportion of us students who chose to take John’s seminar had participated in the Latin American leftist militancy of the 1960s and 70s which had just been militarily defeated by right wing forces, and we were in the middle of the process of reviewing our intense and difficult prior experiences. As in the past, the study of social sciences had gone hand-in-hand with political activism. In addition, we faced serious problems with our work, and, perhaps, these had prompted us to become master’s degree students. The analytic tools we knew segmented society on the basis of concepts from political economics where economic structures dominated the whole social complex and led to the classic division of society into social classes. During the 1970s, in the midst of the maelstrom of social movements, advances had been made in the critique of evolutionism and the inevitable succession of modes of production. However, in terms of analytical instruments, we had come only to the point of accepting the existence of a political superstructure separate from an economic structure, and the idea that both could have had independent movements. That is to say, a complex of advances which did not modify the initial homogeneity put in place by economic factors only partially complicated the panorama. These instruments were not only insufficient, but also reductionist for people with militant backgrounds who did field-work or archival studies with an analysis centered on “popular” sectors or Andean campesinos. What was worse, the instruments were questionable in terms of what must be done with the knowledge attained. John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women When, in 2000, Victoria Castro, Carlos Aldunate, and Jorge Hidalgo published Nispa ninchis/decimos diciendo . . ., their 1993 interviews of John Murra, even if they reduced John’s catalytic role by saying that his struggle consisted in “ . . . demonstrating cultural achievements where others only saw poverty . . .”,4 the type of battle through which John helped us to liberate ourselves in 1984 was underscored. John Murra, in the interviews, told them that in order to “show” one first had to “see”, but for him “the vision” was rather obvious. “A goose has two legs. It isn’t necessary to be a philosopher [to see that]. One has to see geese”,5 he said. However, that which appeared obvious to John, his capacity to “see” and “show”, two words key to his operation, were not easy for us to decipher then. I still understand that “seeing” is far from simple, and I also realize that even for him it wasn’t easy to find the path towards “showing”. By 1984 we had already seen geese, but “poor geese”, because that was what we leftist militants knew how to see, and because of this we felt very comfortable with John. Like him we saw geese and, without ignoring the existence of peacocks, we fixed on geese, as he did when he chose to see potatoes instead of continuing to fixate on maize. Both were political options–one tries to center oneself on something and leave the rest in the background, but without removing it from consideration. This also related to Murra’s very well-known struggle with Communism. I would like to make it clear that, according to my understanding, this only had to do with the leadership of a Stalinist Communist party, or with a certain type of leader, but which absolutely had nothing to do with his former 4 “. . . mostrar los logros culturales donde otros sólo ven pobreza . . .” (p. 12) 5 “Que el ganso tiene dos patas. No hay que ser filósofo. Hay que ver gansos” (p. 24). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) comrades or fellow-combatants who continued to be his friends, and were part of the network in which he lived. However, even if we saw geese, the truth is that we hadn’t seen the same geese as John, in so far as we centered ourselves on dividing the geese into the rich and the poor and according to their internal logic. We couldn’t see their non-economic differences. Even when confronted with difficulties in facing the time depth of processes, the only people who could see better than us were the few anthropologists in the group. Yes, they could see, even if later they didn’t know what to do with their vision. That which we non-anthropologists couldn’t see was Andean societies in their diversity, with their ayllus or kin groups, with their important cultural achievements interrupted or disrupted by the Spanish invasion which submitted them to a regime of colonial domination that maintained their ethnic authorities because the Spaniards didn’t find any other way to exploit them. For centuries the domestic units of the ayllus only obeyed the authorities of their own leaders, whom they elected or accepted through an internal selection process which we still don’t know, and with consequences that continued after the rupture of the colonial pact, and which still have a bearing on the configuration of their dominant elites. The power to perceive these cultural differences intertwined with colonial domination which treated indigenous ayllus quite differently from European peasants who were classified on the basis of the economic and social class criteria on which we based our analysis. All this was only possible thanks to the work of John Murra and his followers or close colleagues. In order to achieve this, it was necessary to go through a long year of courses and effort and destructuring reflection which later affected our whole relationship with the world. From a historiographic perspective it was - 84 a more than important advance which, for many of us, opened another world, the possibility of thinking about history from a perspective not only distinct from that of power (which we already had), but to begin to penetrate the logics–not the logic–of Andean societies and try to reconstruct their specifics, keeping in mind the existence of their own thinking, alternate propositions to those of the elites, and imagine what they would be. That is, to include the doubts of anthropology within historical thinking, and work together with archaeologists and ethnographers, or train ourselves to accomplish the work of recovering the best traditions of these disciplines, not all of them. The course of Murra’s critical trajectory, including his break with the leadership of the Communist Party and its politics, and his decommissioning as a Party militant, we understood very well. Our relocation in a wellknown and common territory was what let John explain to us his political life choice, to become an anthropologist in order to take a position in the militant life, in as much as there existed a form of the anthropological discipline (that which is practiced by those who learn the language of the people they study) which allows knowledge of the 8000 solutions to the same problem, from which each society chooses one.6 During that course, in a conversation which we had after he returned our final exams, we showed the confusion with which our future presented itself to us, perhaps looking for advice without saying so explicitly. It was a very difficult dialogue on our part due to his usual ability to leave us in the end analyzing the naturalized elements which included our own questions, before giving us a partial response which, in the end, laid out the paths to take in order to build our own reply. 6 "Creo que hay 8.000 soluciones al mismo problema y que cada sociedad escoge alguna” (p. 75). 85 I don’t remember well how much he said, or how he managed to get us to make our own conclusions about the necessity of “the act of seeing” and later “the act of showing” in place of our usual “transform in the name of . . .”, a problem that was not easy for him to resolve, either, according to my understanding. From that arose the necessity that in the future we would take our places, that we would reflect on the fact that we had some small power over the word which gave us a certain authority, and, perhaps, that would lead us to a sort of social listening; that after seeing and respecting, we would see how to use our power over the word to show society as a whole the cultural achievements of the diverse Andean groups, but only during the lapse of time when these groups could still not express themselves. There, as well, we perceived that John’s social utopia, his eagerly awaited goal, was a world of diverse people, accepted as such, who had the means of directly expressing their situation and their interests, and struggling for them. These are the political conclusions which I remember that we took away from this first and intense relationship with him, and it was at that point we began a personal relationship which was strong, lasting, and very significant for me in that he became a dear friend with whom I shared the same basic language in relation to the world. In conclusion, it is important to underscore that his commitment was to the world, both as a combatant in the International Brigades of the Spanish Civil War, and in his struggle against discrimination, which he developed everywhere he lived, in support of Afro-Americans, and in solidarity with Spaniards, Africans, women, and, mainly, with Andean societies and their achievements. A central part of his life was his commitment to humanity in the search for a different future, for alternatives to build upon, a future separate from the domination by material John V. Murra: A Mentor to Women things and commercial success. It will be a society of solidarity where talent and the dignity of work are valued, without discrimination. I believe it will also be a world with a predominance of woman workers, creative, intelligent, living in fellowship, and with the capacity to found institutions which permit transformation to continue beyond the life of one person, by providing for the education of young people who will guarantee and make possible the re-creation and continuity of the life choice and work of unequaled value which John Murra left us as a legacy. Translation from the Spanish by Monica Barnes John Victor Murra in Chicago, Spring, 1945 (Photograph courtesy of Heather Lechtman). “KINSMEN RESURRECTED”: JOHN VICTOR MURRA AND THE HISTORY OF ANTHROPOLOGY FRANK SALOMON University of Wisconsin-Madison INTRODUCTION1 After my doctoral advisor, John V. Murra, died, I rummaged in my basement for papers to help me remember him. I found, under a stack of punch-card-era computer work, a manila folder of yellow legal-size pages that I had completely forgotten. They were my notes from Murra’s 1971 Cornell University course “History of U.S. Anthropology”. In 1971, as I began graduate school, Murra gathered a few students, mostly his own advisees, twice weekly in a garret tucked under the slate mansard of Cornell’s McGraw Hall. Our group was a small one and unrepresentative of Cornell anthropology as a whole, for at that time Murra’s students seemed to the rest of the department to be a personalistic sect. His lectures gave unique pleasure. I loved to hear the names of our North American ancestors spoken in his Rumanian burr. His huge eyes opened wide to deal out penetrating, respectcompelling glances when he mentioned the names of the honored ones: Henry Rowe 1 Editors’ note: this article is a revised and expanded English-language version of the second part of a larger article accompanying the French translation of Formaciones económicas y políticas del mundo andino (1975), a collection of major early essays by John V. Murra, edited by Jacques Poloni-Simard, and to be published by École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales with the Maison des Sciences de l’Homme. It was submitted to PoloniSimard in August 2008 and to Andean Past in September 2008. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 87-102. Schoolcraft,2 Lewis Henry Morgan,3 John Wesley Powell,4 Franz Boas,5 Paul Radin6. . . His 2 Henry Rowe Schoolcraft (1793-1864) was a pioneering geographer, geologist, and ethnologist,who is credited with the identification of the source of the Mississippi River. He studied at Union College and Middlebury College. His first wife, Ojibway-speaker Jane Johnson Schoolcraft, greatly aided his research. He is the author of numerous works on American Indians. A biography of Schoolcraft, Indian Agent and Wilderness Scholar: The Life of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft was published in 1987 by Richard E. Bremer. 3 For Morgan see Barnes, this volume, note 139. 4 John Wesley Powell (1834-1902) was a noted geographer, linguist, and explorer of the American West. He was educated at Illinois College, Wheaton College, and Oberlin College but did not graduate from any of those institutions. He was a director of the U.S. Geological Survey, the founding director of the Bureau of Ethnology at the Smithsonian Institution, and the founder of Washington, D.C.’s Cosmos Club. Among his best known works are Canyons of the Colorado (1875) and Introduction to the Study of American Indian Languages . . . (1877). Several book length biographies of Powell have been published. 5 The German-American Franz Boas (1858-1942) created in the U.S.A. the role of the anthropologist as a Ph.D.trained specialist. He, himself, held a doctorate in physics from the University of Kiel (1881). Many of his students at Columbia University went on to become prominent researchers. Boas fought tirelessly against racism and criticized evolutionary frameworks as lacking cultural depth. From the 1880s Boas conducted fieldwork among Arctic peoples and tribes of the Canadian Pacific coast. He stressed the importance of cultural context and history. He propounded the four-field concept of anthropology, and was an early advocate of the participantobserver method in fieldwork. He formulated cultural relativism as a central theme of American anthropology. His numerous published works include The Central ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) lectures were often elliptical and indirect, with important points left between the lines. A semester was not enough for most of us to understand fully, but thirty-eight years might be. The side of Murra that these lectures expressed has not been evoked in any of his many tributes and obituaries. Anthropologists know a lot about Murra’s life as an Andeanist. However one should also know something about his life as an American immigrant intellectual. By the time Murra hit Andeanist print he had given a lot of work and thought to the U.S.A. It was not the stereotyped Rumanian anti-Franco combatiente of 1937 who wrote his works; it was an adoptive Chicagoan, a young man acquainted with the likes of anthropologist Robert Redfield7 (who taught him about Lewis Henry Morgan, for Murra the totemic U.S. intellectual) and Philleo Nash (later President Kennedy’s Commissioner of Indian Affairs). Saul Bellow, the novelist par excellence of savvy young Chicagoans on the make, knew him in the 1940s when both were financially strapped University of Chicago students. Bellow later mischievously gave his name to an accountant: Eskimo (1888), Kwakiutl Culture as Reflected in Mythology (1935), Race, Language, and Culture (1940), the Mind of Primitive Man (1944), Primitive Art (1951), and many articles on the Indians of North America’s Northwest Coast, among other topics. 6 Paul Radin (1883-1959) was a student of Franz Boas and an ethnographer of the Siouan Winnebago or HoChunk tribe in Wisconsin. He also contributed to an understanding of African art and folktales. His work is characterized by emphasis on biography and attention to intellectuality in Native American cultures. Among his works are The Method and Theory of Ethnography (1933), The Italians of San Francisco (1935), Primitive Religion: Its Nature and Origin (1937), Indians of South America (1942), The Culture of the Winnebago as Described by Themselves (1949). He was the editor of African Folktales and Sculpture (1952). 7 For Redfield see Barnes, this volume, note 11. - 88 “Murra, that well-dressed marvelous smooth expert” (Bellow 1975:36). When I asked Murra about this, he said Bellow was alluding satirically to Murra’s cleverness in talking his way out of a debt to the University bursar. THE ANTHROPOLOGIST AS IMMIGRANT/ THE IMMIGRANT AS ANTHROPOLOGIST Murra’s inclination to delve into the colonial and early-republican roots of U.S. and Canadian ethnology had something to do with an immigrant’s curious comparing of the old country and the new, but more to do with his insistence on knowing who one is, both historically and psychoanalytically. His resulting singular view of American anthropology’s past is worth a second look, now that some quarters of U.S. anthropology have once more become receptive to humanism and historicism. The 1971 course represented an early moment in the development of inquiry into the history of the field, and an incomplete one by today’s standard. Thanks to George Stocking’s and Richard Handler’s University of Wisconsin Press publications (c.f. Stocking 1992), to Regna Darnell’s from the University of Nebraska Press (starting 2005)8 and to many other researchers published in the History of Anthropology Newsletter (formerly edited by Henrietta Kuklick), the history of North American anthropology today flourishes far beyond what Murra had to offer. Nonetheless his early perspective on how anthropology sat within American intellectual history was wellresearched and original, and remains a durably provocative one. When Murra spoke to Latin American audiences, and when he talked to us about his efforts to build research institutions in the Andean countries, he sometimes said that the 8 Darnell’s Histories of Anthropology Annual is in its fourth volume as of 2008. 89 Sputnik-era U.S.A. was a good “platform” for launching various disciplinary “tactics”. However it would be completely wrong to think this meant his interest in the North American growth of the discipline–by 1971, explosive growth in terms of sheer graduate enrollment numbers–was merely instrumental. In 1974, as President of the American Ethnological Society, he had the option of dedicating a number of the AES Publications to any theme he chose. He decided on American Anthropology: The Early Years. In its preface he wrote: I am not a historian of our craft. When I receive my copy of the History of Anthropology Newsletter, I nod my head in recognition or amazement. All those kinsmen resurrected, reevaluated, scrutinized. Events, influences, skullduggery, and alternative readings of the evidence are us because they are part of our past. . . I pretend that it [anthropology] is my only ethnic, religious, and ideologic [sic] affiliation. This stance may not be a scientific one, and may be the reason why I do not conduct research in the history of anthropology. But I am a committed, critical, patriotic consumer of the work of those who do (Murra 1976:34). North American anthropology is not really a discipline in the usual sense, but a consortium–one can still hope, a symbiosis–of very different studies that were brought together by a common motive: inquiry into the original peoples of the Americas. The alliance among archaeologists, biologists, cultural anthropologists, and linguists seemed to Murra a great achievement, and a deep-rooted one. He showed us how it took shape in the middle nineteenth century, long before the professionalization of the discipline crystallized these as “fields” or “quadrants”. Schisms among the “quadrants” were already occurring in 1971, Salomon: John V. Murra as each field developed vested interests and ideological fetishes. Murra saw his course as one way to oppose a breakup. He was not exactly a conciliator; he upheld a distinctive minoritarian humanism and historicism against all comers. But he didn’t think conciliators or unifiers were really needed. In fact he commented that North Americans’ “mania to reconcile” sometimes made mush of inquiry. Rather he thought ethnographic commitment, the bond with the peoples we study, should suffice as common ground, indeed a social contract, even among scholars who disagree about everything else. Murra’s course could be taken as a history of that pact, and it was chronologically organized. Nevertheless, time and again he circled back toward a few pervasive themes. These themes reveal something about his intellectual peculiarity as well as about anthropology, and it is these which I will sketch in the following pages. CATHEXIS Cathexis was always central. To this Freudian, nothing but love was strong enough to cement the ethnographic pact–though his ways of expressing love could be peculiar. The power of passions in shaping intellectual history formed a leitmotif. As Murra stated in one of his course lectures: There is no Boas school of thought but there is a Boas emotional group and an institutional tie. Boas as a historicist is a mistake; as Kroeber9 says he had no 9 Alfred L. Kroeber (1876-1960) was an influential American anthropologist who studied under Franz Boas (Ph.D. 1901). As an archaeologist he excavated in New Mexico, Mexico, and Peru. He developed the concept of the “culture area”, a region in which societies shared certain basic traits and operated in similar natural environments. As founder of the Anthropology Department of the University of California at Berkeley, he did much to record the languages and cultures of the Indians of the ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 90 historical sense–he just got stuck in that category by not being an evolutionist. The emotional storm wasn’t about his ideas, but his personality, and other personalities stirred up by the fact that his seminars, [Mohave] . . . raided far away, largely from curiosity. . . They had high regard for dreams and for reasoning from dreams. All this was done before 1917: that is, before Malinowski,10 and before Kroeber’s own [psycho]analysis; most of it was done by 1912.” In discussing the Columbia University graduate department he remarked that “[Intellectual history] is often the effect of Joe on Nelly.” Murra had an Old World sense of the honor of achievement and seniority, and he chastised those of us who, as he thought, callowly gossiped about major scholars. But at the same time he also had a comedic sense of the way things work. Stories of particular anthropological Joes and Nellies seemed to him both important and amusing. In class he limited himself to some dry semi-Freudian kidding about intellect’s enslavement to Eros: “The unit [of Boasian academic organization] is the foreign-born Jew and the WASP woman.” Murra noticed something anthropologists Robert Lowie,11 Radin, and Kroeber had in common: unlike others of the time, had female members. Such kidding was the visible outcrop of a larger rumination, born of psychoanalytic struggles, that Murra clearly carried on constantly yet never shared with us. It concerned relations between the passions of the subconscious and the work of intellect, including such themes as solitude and insomnia, dreaming and phobia, as well as desire. In class Murra expressed admiration for Alfred L. Kroeber’s recognition of dream work in his early field research: They spent large parts of their lives alone, widowed, or divorced. It wasn’t their ‘isms’, but their marginality in civilized life, that made the field and the museum central in their personal lives and their life callings. Despite his theoretical insistence that vocations are unitary, fusing the scholarly with the personal, a stoic or soldierly impatience with weakness made Murra a “tough love” advisor rather than a fatherly one. Students could not count on him for much comfort amid the loneliness of fieldwork. PROFESSIONALISM Another axis of the course concerned democratic science and professional science. Our classroom sat barely 45 km from the lovely Cayuga Lake village of Aurora, where Lewis 10 11 American West. Among his many published works are Animal Tales of the Eskimo (1899), The Arapaho (1902-07), The Chumash and Costanoan Languages (1910), Anthropology (1936), Cultural and Natural Areas of Native North America (1938), and The Archaeology and Pottery of Nazca, Peru . . . (edited by Patrick H. Carmichael, 1998). Kroeber’s wife Theodora published a biogaphy of Alfred L. Koreber in 1970 and Julian H. Stewart published one in 1973. For Malinowski see Barnes, this volume, note 36. Robert H. Lowie (1883-1957), educated in German humanism, took his A.B. from the College of the City of New York (1901) and his Ph.D. from Columbia University (1908) under Franz Boas. He was an expert on North American Indians and, as a theorist, helped to formulate the doctrine of cultural relativism which holds cultural constructs to be interpretable only within the contexts of individual societies. Among his books are Primitive Society (1920), Primitive Religion (1924), History of Ethnological Theory (1937), and The Crow Indians (1935). An obituary of Lowie was published by Paul Radin in the American Anthropologist in 1958. 91 Henry Morgan lived and propounded ethnology long before it became a profession. More orthodox Cornell anthropologists never mentioned Morgan. I think they were embarrassed for their long-dead neighbor, then so utterly out of fashion. But like it or not, Morgan was our genius loci, and he was in many ways the fulcrum of Murra’s thinking about U.S. anthropology. It interested Murra a great deal that Morgan’s career was a life lived in pre-academic science. Morgan grew up on 600 formerly Iroquoisan acres granted to his father after the 1779 massacre of the Cayuga. His career as a railroad lawyer and Republican state senator was to serve the transformation of upstate New York into the continent’s first industrial boom area. Murra made no bones about the fact that Morgan’s study of the Iroquois peoples grew directly from a “Rhodesian situation” of land theft that followed U.S. independence. (He was alluding to Ian Smith. The comparison between historic and current political situations was characteristic.) Upstate New York’s post-revolutionary culture included a citizen-scholar ethos which academic growth would later displace. College or seminary educated townsfolk expected “that people would teach themselves and each other.” Secret societies became the free universities of the time, offering a course upward for the humble. Morgan invited an educated Seneca man, Ely Parker12, and Parker’s wife, to join his own secret lodge: the Society of the Gordian Knot, later called Grand Order of the Iroquois. This was to be the start of important careers for both men. At the end of Morgan’s era, when the citizen-scientist ethos was under attack from 12 Ely Samuel Parker (1825-1895) was a Seneca sachem, civil engineer, and Civil War general on General U.S. Grant’s staff. Salomon: John V. Murra university elites loyal to the German graduate school model, the self-trained anthropologist Otis Mason13 spoke up for the older citizenscholar tradition which had produced the likes of Schoolcraft and Morgan. Mason praised a science in which there is no priesthood and no laity, no sacred language; but one in which you [the general educated public] are all both the investigator and the investigated (Mason quoted in Hinsley 1976: 41). Murra thought Mason’s party, though politically doomed, scientifically inadequate, and compromised by racism, still deserved respect. He taught us to esteem people for what was possible within their times; Morgan and the other “primitive ethnographers” were “no more and no less racist than their contemporaries–but they were more than that; they went beyond their racism.” He likewise had sympathy for the proto-anthropologies that “Latin countries” (including Rumania) had been developing contemporaneously via non-academic selfstudies in folklore and vernacular-language philology. Looking back, one wonders if part of Murra’s enjoyment of the Andean countries did not come from the circumstance that when he arrived, scholarly life in the Andes still had some of the same malleable, historically openended character. “When in 1886 Andrew Dickson White14 invited Lewis Henry Morgan 13 Otis Tufton Mason (1838-1908) graduated from Columbian College (now George Washington University) in 1861. He was an advocate of evolutionary theories of social development. He was a curator at the Smithsonian Institution, a founder of the Anthropological Society of Washington, and an editor of the American Naturalist. His books include Summaries of Progress in Anthropology: Woman’s Share in Primitive Culture (1894) and The Origins of Invention . . . (1895). 14 Andrew Dickson White (1832-1918) was the founder, with Ezra Cornell, of Cornell University. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) to Cornell”, Murra remarked, “the task of creating national intellectual models was nearly finished; [it] is now the difficult task of the Andes.” As I was getting ready for my first Cornellguided trip to Ecuador, Murra counseled me that I would find in Quito a situation something like Morgan’s. I never wrote down exactly what he said, but I remember the gist: since commanding research institutions and professional associations did not exist in Ecuador, I would find the most interesting talents in citizen-scholars grouped only by their own affinities. That advice led to wonderful encounters. Olaf Holm, a Dane who had come to Ecuador to manage a cacao plantation, became a selftrained archaeologist after finding precolumbian figurines among his seedlings. Osvaldo Viteri, a painter, built a truck-mounted mobile studio whose jolting journeys brought him to undocumented prehispanic sites. Padre José María Vargas guarded in his Dominican monastic cell a huge collection of early colonial papers, a treasure trove of ethnohistory, originally compiled to defend Ecuador’s disputed borders. Costanza and Alberto di Capua, refugee Italians who built Ecuador’s first toothpaste factory, were in their off hours applying to South American papers the exacting humanist methods learned in the old country (see Bruhns, this volume, pp. 103-107). The dapper provincial aristocrat Hernán Crespo Toral made it his vocation to transform gold held by the Banco Central–precolumbian gold jewelry–into the core of a great museum. In the solarium of his mock castle, the aged oligarch Carlos Manuel Larrea pored over the papers of a vanquished seigneurial order. Meanwhile, a few blocks down the avenue at the Casa de la Cultura, the nationalist ethnohistorians Piedad and Alfredo Costales pounded out number after number of the journal Llacta, glorifying Quichua - 92 groups’ struggles with the latifundist world Larrea’s peers had made. Murra and Curtis Hinsley were right, too, to emphasize the limitations of the pre-academic, citizen-scholar scene. With no canonical way to organize debate, disagreements among scholars became feuds. Without powerful institutions, there was no way to fund gifted researchers who happened to be poor, like the tireless autodidact ethnohistorian Aquiles Pérez, whom I found hunched at a tiny desk over a cobbler’s shop. For such reasons, Murra regarded the transition to professional scholarship and university leadership as a costly, but inevitable and useful one. Murra’s extensive teaching about Franz Boas, the “locomotive” of North American professionalization, had, then, a covert as well as an overt purpose. It was a monument to great scholarship, but also a how-to lesson in scholarly politics. Murra began by pointing out that Boas’ first festschrift (Laufer 1906) was bestowed on him for reasons that had everything to do with academic politics. It happened “before he did all the things that Leslie White15 hated,” meaning before he had created a great corpus of ethnography. What Boas had done was transform a vocation to a profession, and find for it a place in the constellations of power and money. “He was sponsored by many influential 15 Leslie Alvin White (1900-1975) was an American anthropologist who formulated a technology-oriented model of cultural evolution. He earned a B.A. (1923) and M.A. (1924) from Colombia University, and a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago (1927) under Fay-Cooper Cole. He engaged in bitter academic disputes with the followers of Franz Boas. His major works are The Science of Culture and The Evolution of Culture and several monographs on American Indian cultures. A biography by Harry Elmer Barnes comprises the Forward to his festschrift Essays in the Science of Culture (edited by Gertrude E. Dole nad Robert L. Carneiro, 1960. An obituary of White by Elman Service, Richard K. Beardsley, and Beth Dillingham was published in the American Anthropologist in 1976. 93 non-academics including Carl Schurz,16 who saw Boas as the embodiment of the liberal aspirations of his own 1848 revolutionary generation.” In one of his lectures Murra stated: Boas [in his contention with the old powers of the American Ethnological Society] was a meticulous scholar, but also a power wielder, an organizer. He attracted and favored New York City people, immigrants, and their children, especially women. A wheeler-dealer, spinner of nets, an anthropological tank. Boas’ struggle to academicize anthropology via graduate schools goes on now in countries that don’t have a professional guild, like Chile and Peru. There, the selfmade anthropologists want the prestige of having grad schools, but not the elitist consequences. The past he was talking about seemed to him parallel to his present. In the Chicago 1902 fight with W. J. McGee17 and George Dorsey18 over 16 Carl Schurz (1829-1906) was a German-American politician and journalist, who served as a U.S. army general during the Civil War. 17 William John McGee (1853-1912) was a self-taught geologist and ethnologist associated with John Wesley Powell. He served as president of the American Anthropological Association, the National Geographical Society, and the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Among his works are Palaeolithie Man in America: His Antiquity and Environment (1888), Geological Atlas of U.S. (1894), Maya Year (1894), The Seri Indians (1898), as well as articles on the Sioux, primitive mathematics, and trepanation in Peru. 18 George Amos Dorsey (1868-1931) was Curator of Anthropology at Chicago’s Field Museum from 1896 to 1915. He held an A.B. from Dennison College (1888), an A.B. (1890) and Ph.D. (1894) from Harvard. He conducted excavations at Peru’s ancient Ancón cemetery and other important South American sites. Among his more than seventy-five publications on American Indians and physical anthropology are Archaeological Investigations on the Island of La Plata (1901), The Arapaho Sun Dance Salomon: John V. Murra writing the AAA’s charter, the latter two favored a “mass membership, no-credentialing” policy. (George Stocking 1988). According to Murra: McGee pointed out that a “generous” policy will bring generous finances; how did Boas propose to finance? . . . McGee was really arguing for himself. McGee, John Wesley Powell, or Lewis Henry Morgan couldn’t have joined the AAA under Boas’ rules! On my yellow legal pad I capitalized what Murra said loudly: “NOT THE DOCTRINES BUT THE STRUCTURE OF THE PROFESSION”. EXPERIENCE As Murra saw the 1902 AAA fight, it was one outbreak of a permanent tension in U.S. academe. American scholars inherit at the same time European esteem for intellectual credentials and American dislike of “intellectuals” as a privileged class. It seems significant that Murra’s struggle for citizenship occurred at a time when the latter sentiment was quite strong. He could take it in stride because he felt that anti-academic sentiment was one part of an American mind-set that also entailed positive historic values. At the time Murra gave his lecture about McGee, New York was convulsed with racialized anger over what was called the Ocean HillBrownsville school affair. Black parents in these Brooklyn neighborhoods had seized on new school regulations to take control, expelling an entrenched and white-dominated teachers’ union. As Murra interpreted it: (1903), and The Cheyenne (1905). Dorsey’s obituary was published by Fay-Cooper Cole in the American Anthropologist (1931). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) The revolt of black parents against paper credentials and teachers’ reliance on [standardized achievement] tests is a continuation of American resistance to European cumulative and bookish credentials. Only the blacks and a few others haven’t been bought out by Europe. In natural science, there’s no resisting it. But in social studies, in human things, we can still hold experience as the credential. To make experience the prerequisite for the institution–that’s the contribution of the U.S. This mind-set left a mark on anthropology. Long-lasting emphasis on personal and local experience stood in tension with historical perspective and with disciplinary rigor. Maybe . . . blindness to history is a product of . . . avidity for direct experience and dislike of vicariousness. L.H.M. didn’t care for anything he couldn’t observe. . . The intellectual character of U.S. anthropology, and other sciences, is selfstarting and immediate. Murra sympathized with this mentality, which made Americans into field-workers (though not participant observers) long before Boas or Malinowski. In his role as an advisor of young anthropologists, Murra tried to promote Boasian professionalism without suffocating the “self-starting” habit of mind, which he liked. Unlike his deans, he made practiced ethnographers welcome regardless of diplomas. McGee was right about the necessity for practical field experience, the dispensability of Ph.D.’s. You must be immersed at some point. He contrasted deep fieldwork involving personal cathexis with the skimpy, narrowly programmed field excursions Cornell - 94 administrators were used to accommodating. He scolded the social scientists for sponsoring merely “ritual fieldwork”, which is forced “to fit . . . in interstices of the academic calendar. You can’t see the whole culture in summer . . . Like Hawaiian pineapples, our experience is grown ‘can size.’” American museums–the Peabody at Harvard and its homonym at Yale, the American Museum of Natural History in New York, Pennsylvania’s University Museum, and the Field Museum in Chicago–were often hostile to professionalization, but they did one great thing: they were able to sponsor long fieldwork unconstrained by semesters. In Murra’s eyes, Kroeber, who was Berkeley’s “museum man” among other things, was right to speak of: submerging oneself in other ways of life as an act of personal liberation and selfunderstanding, the only “ecstasy” we will ever have from our given past and path. Because Murra saw long, open-ended expeditions as the heart of the anthropological task, he taught respectfully about “museum men”. We were expected to take their bigotry and even their entanglements in military intelligence in perspective, the better to appreciate their impact in enlarging and internationalizing field research. The Peabody anthropologists were the first [U.S. anthropologists] to go abroad, before World War I, to Maya lands (where the spying was done), and to Africa. Murra also credited the museums’ ability to publish long works on anthropology. “Until well into the twentieth century the Smithsonian was still the only place to publish large studies; in fact the beginning of other [academic press] outlets was the beginning of its deterioration.” Despite his disappointment in Julian H. 95 Steward’s19 evolutionist manhandling of South American ethnography, Murra admired his adroit manipulation of the federal funding system to publish the Handbook of South American Indians as Smithsonian Bureau of American Ethnology reports (Steward 19461959). In the 1960s museums had lost ground “due to their not getting any Sputnik sauce”,20 and Murra took on a consultancy seeking to prevent the collapse of the Smithsonian’s unique anthropological establishment. STATECRAFT Although Murra valued much of the North American intellectual past, he also felt that it showed some durably wrong inclinations. One of these was the search for an overarching evolutionary natural science of society. Murra remarked that although much of Morgan’s evolutionary model was wrong and refuted, we would never get rid of his evolutionism. This was not a matter of denying the validity of an evolutionary frame for understanding complexity. As a materialist, Murra acknowledged that if evolution is true of some of nature, then it is true of all nature, including socio-cultural human nature. But that only helped to define the constraints on humanity in each of its techno-environmental conditions. The neo-evolutionist Stewardian venture of ranking societies in a schema of determinately emerging adaptive complexity seemed to him the most drab, least creative program for anthropology. In a book review which caused hard feelings, he referred to Timothy Earle’s21 19 For Steward see Barnes, this volume, note 37. 20 Murra meant National Defense Education Act funds available after the space technology panic of 1957. These funds fueled a vast expansion of U.S. universities. 21 Timothy K. Earle (b. 1946) is known for his contributions to an understanding of the chiefdom form of political organization. He has used Hawaii as an important case Salomon: John V. Murra post-Stewardian approach as an “evolutionary chore” (Murra 1988:586). The interesting thing for him–and for all his students–was how humans make changes within their evolutionary moments. If societies alter from one form to another, they do so historically, through what would later be called agency. This was what diachronic anthropology should study. Murra detested coarser materialists such as Leslie White and Marvin Harris22– the latter then the predominant public voice of anthropology in the U.S.–for laying “a heavy thumb” on the scale of historical interpretation. Just as wrong, Murra thought, was evolutionists’ tendency to see the politicization and centralization of society as an inevitable and uniform process. The justification for studying the evolution of states, he thought, was not to multiply purported laws of complexity. It was on the contrary to skeptically probe “the clout of kings” and the varieties of political experience. Thinking of peoples buffeted by states, Murra asked for answers about states and answers to states. “How different it [kinship-based state society] was! What anthropology has to offer is study. Among his major works are Economic and Social Organization of a Complex Chiefdom . . . (1978), Archaeological Field Research in the Upper Mantaro, Peru, 19821983 (1987), and How Chiefs Come to Power . . . (1997). 22 Marvin Harris (1927-2001) was an American anthropologist who formulated theories of cultural materialism combining Karl Marx’s emphasis on the means of production with the impact of demographic factors on other parts of socio-cultural systems. He studied as both an undergraduate and a graduate student at Columbia University, obtaining a Ph.D. there in 1953. He taught at Columbia from 1953 until 1980, then at the University of Florida, Gainesville from 1980 until 2000. Among his 17 books are The Rise of Anthropological Theory (1968), Cultural Materialism: The Struggle for a Science of Culture (1979), and Theories of Culture in Post-Modern Times. An obituary of Marvin Harris by Maxine L. Margolis and Conrad Phillip Kottak was published in the American Anthropologist in 2003. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) the proof that there was an alternative.” States, particularly precapitalist states in Africa and the Americas, were his ethnological center of gravity. In teaching about Burundi, Cameroon, or Zulu politics, however, his point was not at all to show regularities of state formation but, on the contrary, to show how surprisingly the sources and uses of political power can vary. Long after the utopian in him had perished, he argued by example and indirectly, for the unsuspected political alternative. - 96 ethnic friction as a normal and basic part of the human condition for better or worse. In one guise or another inter-ethnic situations provoke “primitive anthropology”, raw but fertile situations of encounter and reflection. Boas’ or Malinowski’s foreignness in his academic country seemed to Murra to be a central fact. Boas, the foreign agitator . . . like Malinowski [advanced by] coagulating refugees and colonials into a group; Boas swiftly pulled together a tight but heterogeneous group . . . He was their rescuer and their patron. ETHNICITY In the 1970s a substantial number of American sociologists and anthropologists were trying to reinvent or reabsorb the Marxian legacy, among them Murra’s great friends Eric Wolf23 and Sidney Mintz24. He had nothing but admiration for their inventive historicism, even as he hung back from their larger Marxian program. But he disliked cruder versions of Marxian social science. In his view, insistence on class as the sovereign analysis had prevented scholars, both North and South American, from writing history in cultural depth–just as frameworks of nationality and race had done earlier. The Rumanian in him insisted forever on ethnicity: more than race, more than nationality, more than stratification. His interest in it was not limited to sweettempered multiculturalism, either. He regarded He insisted that the battle between the “academic machine” Boas was creating around 1900 and the informal lineages of the Harvard, Pennsylvania, and New York museum sets was an ethnic battle. When the AAA in 1919 expelled Boas for dissenting against anthropological involvement in spying on Central America, of twenty who voted against Boas, fifteen were at Harvard and many were former U.S. government employees. Murra identified them as WASP upper crust. Murra was likely speaking indirectly of himself when he agreed with Claude LéviStrauss25 that “anthropology is a way of living with an unresolved ethnic identity.” He particularly felt empathy for anthropologists who grew this way, for example Morris 25 23 Eric Robert Wolf (1923-1999) was an anthropologist well-known for his studies of peasant societies, especially in Latin America. He obtained his Ph.D. from Columbia University after World War II. An early exponent of peasant (as opposed to “primitive”) studies, he later emphasized linkages between worldwide economic systems and local ethnographic facts. Among his many influential works are Sons of the Shaking Earth (1959), Peasants (1966), and Europe and the People Without History (1982). An interview of Wolf by Ashraf Ghani was published in the American Anthropologist in 1987 and an obituary by Jane C. Schneider in the same journal in 1999. 24 For Mintz see Barnes, this volume, note 60. Claude Lévi-Straus (b. 1908) is a French ethnologist and anthropological theorist famous for developing anthropological “structuralism”, a system that analyses a complex field in terms of formally interrelated and opposing parts. He received his doctorate from the Sorbonne (1948). He lived in Brazil in the 1930s and 40s, teaching and conducting ethnographic field-work there. He presented two theses, one on the family and social life of the Nambikwara Indians and the other The Elementary Structures of Kinship (published in 1949). Among his other famous books are Tristes Tropiques (1955), Structural Anthropology (1958), The Savage Mind (1962), and the four volumes of Mythologiques(1969-1981). A good guide to the work if Lévi-Strauss was published by Edmund Leach in 1970. 97 Swadesh,26 in self-exile from the then-unfriendly United States “driving the only Moskvitch car in Mexico City, alienated at home, successful abroad.” As Boas turned to anti-racism, Sapir27 turned to Jewish consciousness. . . He took his Nootka skills to Yiddish and Jewishness. On the Peruvian side, Murra’s friendship with Peruvian anthropologist, novelist, and poet José María Arguedas rested in part on empathy with Arguedas’ lonely, out-of-the-zeitgeist ethnic loyalties (Murra and López Baralt 1996). Murra was, however, notoriously touchy about his own “unresolved ethnic identity”. He felt that the persona he had forged in his Spanish soldiering and his profession was his only real identity and deserved to be accepted beyond questioning. He hated to hear his Jewish childhood name mentioned. As it happened I was the only overtly Jewish student in his group. When I proposed to write a seminar paper on Guaman Poma’s allusions to Hebrew scriptures, some fellow students told me it was a bad idea because religious discussions–even ethnological 26 The Americanist linguist Morris Swadesh (1909-1967) originated glottochronology, a method for estimating chronologies of language divergence based on lexical comparison. He held a B.A. and an M.A. from the University of Chicago and a Ph.D. from Yale with a dissertation on the Nootka language. He published 130 articles and 17 books and monographs. An obituary by Norman A. McQuown was published in the American Anthropologist in 1968. 27 Edward Sapir (1884-1939), a published poet and “Boasian” linguist who concentrated on North American Indian languages, is most famous as the co-creator of the SapirWhorf hypothesis which postulates relationship between grammar and thought patterns. He graduated from Columbia College in 1904. He continued at Columbia to study linguistics and anthropology. Ruth Benedict published an obituary of Sapir in a 1939 issue of the American Anthropologist. Included is a complete bibliography of Sapir’s published work prepared by Leslie Spier. Salomon: John V. Murra ones– always got on Murra’s nerves. But Murra liked the idea. After the paper was done, he commented in private that an outspoken Jewish identity is a good thing, but the waffling, evasive relation to Judaism he thought he saw in others (and I asked myself, only in others?) was “an ethnic neurosis”. INDIVIDUALITY Murra’s notion of the anthropological calling as a way to bring forth something grand –ethnography—out of something inwardly painful–alienation–has much to do with his respect for individuality. He adhered strongly, though not orthodoxly, to Freudianism because he thought it an unbudgeable fact that at every level from intimacy to nationality one lives against one’s people, as well as with them. Whether at the inner level of the psyche or the outer level of professional action, he saw the agonistic creation of the self as a basic human process. He admired “good self-documenters” like Lowie, Kroeber, Sapir, and Swadesh whose writings help us follow theirs. Murra valued Sapir, too, for being a dissenter himself and finding dissent within culture. Others might credit tribes with unanimity; Sapir said things like, “The Burucubucu say so-&-so; Two Crows denies it” (referring to Dorsey 1885:211-371).28 Above all, Murra brought forward as exemplar of the anthropologist self-realized in cryptic uniqueness an earlier expatriate, Paul Radin (Radzyn), “the most historical and most European of his generation”. He returned to Radin over and over, out of proportion to the dimensions of the course. Murra pointed out that Radin, the originally Polish author of remarkable ethnographies about the Winnebago (now self-denominated Ho-Chunk) of Wisconsin: 28 This phrase was later amplified as the title of a monograph on the famous Omaha kinship problem, by Robert Harrison Barnes (1984). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) taught at Kenyon [College], Fisk University [a Negro campus], and at 75, Brandeis, and Black Mountain [a shortlived but profoundly influential experimental avant-garde campus]. He lived to see his books republished and popular after years on remainder tables. Radin, Murra remarked, “had no disciples in any grand school; was he a part of history, having no impact?”29 Murra sympathized with Radin’s ethnographic emphasis on Winnebago (etc.) biography and autobiography (c.f. Radin 1949) because they foregrounded “the non-solidity, the non-rigidity of culture” and the self-creative powers of every person as cultural being. He liked Radin’s lack of nomothetic ambition. The Winnebago Tribe (1990 [1923]) ends nowhere after a mountain of description, but it’s his best work. It’s more like anthology than analysis, full of big but mutually relevant quotes. Uniqueness is not reduced but put center-stage. When Murra remarked that the obituary Radin wrote about Lowie (1958) reflected a lot of Radin’s self, we wondered if Murra were not hinting that in remembering Radin he was in turn reflecting his own sense of self. Like his fellow Cornellian the expatriate novelist Vladimir Nabokov, whom he read with admiration, though not affection, Murra sometimes tried his audience’s wit with plays of mirroring. One suspected indirect self-comment when he said of Boas, “His lack of praise to students disturbed people–he was a stern taskmaster whom everybody both loved and hated.” His comment that “[Radin] didn’t mind 29 But this statement referred only to the United States, the scope of the course. Murra also thought that Radin had productive dialogue with some anthropologists in other countries. - 98 being disliked but subtly demanded to be loved” had the same flavor. “Now,” Murra said, “we are swept into the dimmer atmosphere of social science.” He despised the new, quantitativist-dominated establishments into which “midwestern deans” were forcibly relocating anthropology. He quoted with approval’s Kroeber’s famous article about anthropologists as “changelings” in the house of social science (Kroeber 1959). And Murra went on: Do sociologists call us “bird-watchers, antiquarians?” It does not matter. We dislike the facelessness of sociological method more than we value its methodological virtues. [Anthropology] is the daughter of natural science by esthetic humanism. It started with a glowing sense of discovery in studying culture. It is truly called intellectualizing romanticism. But it is never called sterile or toneless. In 1982, Murra ran unsuccessfully for President of the American Anthropological Association. His platform was partly a protest on the above lines, going on to speak against Sputnik-subsidized inflation in the number of U.S. anthropologists, the vested interest of departments in “growth” without spelled-out priorities, be they regional or intellectual, the lavish federal grants . . . shoe-horning research into “mental health” and other administratively selected categories. His candidacy was not just a protest. It was also an appeal to remember what had been vital and central in the United States’ ethnological experience. Having just finished preparing, with Nathan Wachtel and Jacques Revel, the special Andean number of Annales, (Murra et al. 1986 Revel et al. 1978), he reflected on the special 99 orienting role that “the epic of Native American achievement” played in New World intellectual history. He hoped the A.A.A. would expand the tradition of the same classic ethnographers his course expounded. American anthropologists should orient themselves around documentation and comparison of the cultural history of all human societies, with a special, though not exclusive, commitment to those civilizations vanquished in the expansion of Europe and the United States . . . the “historical anthropology” approach, so new and experimental in France, is our pride and heritage–it could give a focus and a new urgency to the A.A. [American Anthropologist] (Murra 1982). COSMOPOLITANISM Murra’s interest in the United States had nothing to do with nationalism and everything to do with cosmopolitan curiosity. Had the disasters of the 1930s landed him someplace else he would surely have delved into the place and the history around him no less piercingly. In his lectures, tantalizing digressive threads pointed to other inquiries about other continents and other anthropologies, which never became full scale courses, at least not at Cornell. Murra complained that his colleagues pushed him into “average anthropology” instead of letting him teach what he alone could teach. By this he apparently meant a cosmopolitan curriculum in ethnology. He took a strong interest in views of American ethnology from other intellectual traditions. Indeed in the first week of the course I have been evoking he had us read and debate critiques against “American anthropology” by the Swede Åke Hultkranz (1968) and the Hungarian Tamás Hofer (1968), both of whom argued against the “export” of the programs that United States foundations were Salomon: John V. Murra supporting. Murra could, and sometimes did, teach marvelously on the British anthropological tradition (he was an admiring friend of Raymond Firth who taught at Cornell in 1970)30 and on French ethnology, especially French African researches. France, too, he often reminded us, also had nationally rooted ethnographic inquiries and anthropological societies long before it had anthropology departments. The most original of his cosmopolitan lessons was his lecture segment (in a different course) about the ethnohistory of the Russian empire. One thing that made it compelling was comparison of imperial Russia to the United States as a particular kind of expansive formation: an early-industrial state trampling vast temperate and subarctic “tribal” hinterlands. Murra began with Stephan Krasheninnikov, who pushed Russian exploration south from Alaska to the Californian confines of the Spanish empire in 1735-1737, and ended with the fortunes of contemporary ethnographic inquiry in the Soviet Union. In connection with Boas’ Jesup Northwest expedition of 1897-1902 he talked with admiration of the Russian exile ethnographers Lev Shternberg31 and Vladimir Bogoraz32 (then all but forgotten in the United 30 For Firth see Barnes, this volume, note 35. 31 Lev Yakovlevitch Shternberg (1861-1927) was a Ukranian ethnographer who studied the peoples of the Russian northern Pacific islands and of Siberia. With Boas’s patronage he worked for the American Museum of Natural History. He was politically active in Marxist and Jewish social movements. He accomplished some of his ethnographic work while a political prisoner in Siberia. 32 Vladimir Germanovich Bogoraz (1865-1936), who was an associate of Lev Shternberg, and who used the pseudonym N.A. Tan, was a Russian revolutionary, essayist, novelist, poet, folklorist, and linguist who studied the Chukchi people of Siberia while in political exile. Like Shternberg he participated in the American Museum of Natural History’s Jessup Pacific Expedition (1900-1901). A bibliography of Bogoraz’s work was published by Katharina Gernet in 1999. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 100 States). Murra’s brief lessons about Chukchee or Gilyak (Nivkh) seemed outcrops of greater study. He always kept an eye out for meritorious ethnographers on the other side, urging us to have a look at Sovietskaya Etnografiya; “The good ones write sandwiches, you know, a slice of anthropology between two slices of Lenin.” craft’s educated Ojibwe wife Jane Johnston, Morgan’s Seneca friend and co-author Ely S. Parker, and Boas’ great Amerindian collaborator George Hunt33 never failed to loom large. There was, of course, something personal about his affection for intellectual lives lived among rather than within cultures. He seemed to regret that little research had come of his strong east-European interests. After all, in the Cold War era, just about anything concerning “the Soviets” was fundable, and with his deep Russian knowledge Murra could surely have made a career of it. Indeed in 1950 Columbia had offered him paid work on Soviet ethnology. In 1951 Murra published a piece explaining to Americans the importance of “The Soviet Linguistic Controversy”, the moment when Stalin seemed about to open a space for cultural research by reassigning language from “superstructure” to “base” (Murra et al. 1951). But the cold war burden of politics and, above all, the impossibility of unfettered fieldwork in the Soviet sphere, put Russianlanguage ethnohistory permanently on Murra’s back burner. TO LIVE AS AN ANTHROPOLOGIST Murra had a prescient sympathy for another kind of cosmopolitans, not fashionable at that time, but now widely appreciated. These were the “native” intellectuals of the empires everywhere, then sometimes called “organic intellectuals” or “evolués.” Alongside Peru’s “Indian chronicler” Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, or Francis La Flesche, the magnificent native ethnographer of the Omaha and Osage, he liked to put Samuel Johnson, the pioneer Yoruba-Anglican historian of Nigeria, or Jomo Kenyatta, first prime minister and president of Kenya, or the Akan intellectual J.B. Danquah, whom he knew slightly. Danquah’s aristocratic hauteur seemed to Murra an amusing counterpoint to the populist tone of “decolonizing” anthropology. North American Indian interlocutors, people such as School- Awed by Murra’s knack for getting along with so many kinds of people, by his charm and his polyglot savoir-faire, some of us wondered why he bound himself so tightly to the archival life of ethnohistory (c.f. Ortiz de Zúñiga 196772). He never became much of a face-to-face ethnographer. His patience for the discomforts of Andean village life had limits. It seems, looking back, that his life among South American intellectuals mattered more to him than did his outings on the puna (which is not to deny that such trips in the company of cultural and archaeological field-workers had revelatory effects on him; c.f. Collier and Murra 1943). The emerging institutional research life of Andean countries, not the Quechua or Aymara rural scene, was the scene in which he achieved great participant-observer insight. He demanded his doctoral candidates build collegial and ethnographic connections as major personal commitments, not mere “contacts”. He mentioned that: German and Japanese anthropologists when they arrive [in their countries of research] usually attend local universities and develop emotional and social ties. This corresponds to humanism in anthropology. Whereas, we from the U.S. 33 Tlingit George Hunt (1854-1933) was a friend and collaborator of Franz Boas. Through marriage he also became expert in Kwakiutl or Kwakwaka’wakw language and culture. 101 come for short noncommittal visits and objectivist purposes. At Cornell his great institutional energies were directed not so much toward institutionbuilding, as toward opening spaces for collegial, non-bureaucratic affinity. Murra fought continual campaigns in the graduate school for better recognition of international credentials, better funding of outgoing travelers and especially, fellowships for incoming foreign students. He invariably demanded that graduate students take part in the institutions of their host countries. Students of other anthropological masters in Murra’s generation sometimes find it hard to understand what was so compelling about him. Compared to some, Murra wrote little (and often published in relatively obscure outlets). He preferred regional, middle-level modeling to grand theory, at a time when a grand theory wave was cresting. He could be maddeningly inconclusive: invited to give the Lewis Henry Morgan lectures at Rochester University in 1969, he could not be bothered to write them up for publication. Yet those who worked with him never cease to hear his echo in their minds. Having lived into an age when humanism, skepticism, tolerance for uncertainty, and love of the ethnographic particular are again becoming welcome in our discipline, one feels that in the end his teaching of unfashionable anthropology did make its mark. We are much the richer for it. Murra’s life was not only a remarkable career in Andean research; it also demonstrated one very special way to live as an anthropologist. REFERENCES CITED Barnes, Robert Harrison 1984 Two Crows Denies It: A History of Controversy in Omaha Sociology. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Salomon: John V. Murra Bellow, Saul 1975 Humboldt’s Gift. New York: Viking Press. Collier, Donald and John V. Murra 1943 Survey and Excavations in Southern Ecuador. Chicago: Field Museum of Natural History, Publication 528, Anthropological Series, volume 35. Dorsey, J. Owen 1885 Omaha Sociology. In Third Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Washington, pp. 211-371. Hinsley, Curtis 1976 Amateurs and Professionals in Washington Anthropology, 1879 to 1903. In American Anthropology: The Early Years, edited by John V. Murra, pp. 36-68. St. Paul, Minnesota: West Publishing. Hofer, Tamás 1968 Anthropologists and Native Ethnographers in Central European Villages: Comparative Notes on the Professional Personality of Two Disciplines. Current Anthropology 9(4):311-315. Hultkranz, Åke 1968 The Aims of Anthropology: A Scandinavian Point of View. Current Anthropology 9(4):289310. Kroeber, Alfred L. 1959 The Personality of Anthropology. Kroeber Anthropology Society Papers 19:1-5. L[aufer], B[erthold] 1906 Boas Anniversary Volume: Anthropological Papers Written in Honor of Franz Boas . . . Presented to Him on the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of his Doctorate, Ninth of August, Nineteen Hundred and Six.New York: G. E. Stechert & Company. Murra, John Victor 1982 Platform Submitted to Support Candidacy for President, American Anthropological Association. Circulated by the American Anthropological Association and by John Victor Murra. Photocopy. On file in the archives of Andean Past. 1988 Review of The Evolution of Human Societies: From Foraging Group to Agrarian State by Allen W. Johnson and Timothy Earle. Man n.s. 23(3):586587. Murra, John Victor, editor 1976 American Anthropology: The Early Years. St Paul, Minnesota: West Publishing Company. Murra, John Victor, Robert M. Hankin, and Fred Holling 1951 The Soviet Linguistic Controversy. Columbia Slavic Studies. New York: King's Crown Press for the Columbia University Slavic Languages Department. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Murra, John Victor, and Mercedes López-Baralt, editors. 1996 Las cartas de Arguedas. Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Fondo Editorial. Murra, John Victor, Nathan Wachtel, and Jacques Revel, editors. 1986 Anthropological History of Andean Polities. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ortiz de Zúñiga, Iñigo 1967-72 Visita de la provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562, edited by John V. Murra, Volume 1, Visita de las cuatro waranqa de los chupachu. Huánuco, Perú: Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Facultad de Letras y Educación, Series Documentos para la Historia y Etnología de Huánuco y la Selva Central. Radin, Paul 1958 Robert H. Lowie, 1883-1957. American Anthropologist 60(2):358-375. 1949 The Culture of the Winnebago: As Described by Themselves. Baltimore, Maryland: Waverly Press. 1990 [1923] The Winnebago Tribe. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Revel, Jacques, John Victor Murra, and Nathan Wactel 1978 Anthropologie historique des sociétés andines. Thematic issue, Economies, Societés, Civilisations, Annales 33(5-6). - 102 Steward, Julian H., editor 1946-59 Handbook of South American Indians. United States Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 143, 7 volumes. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Gov ernment Printing Office. Stocking, George W. 1988 Guardians of the Sacred Bundle: The American Anthropological Association and the Representation of Holistic Anthropology. In American Council of Learned Societies Occasional Paper 5: Learned Societies and the Evolution of the Discipline, edited by Saul B. Cohen and David Bromwich, pp. 17-25. 1992 The Ethnographer’s Magic and Other Essays in the History of Anthropology. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. COSTANZA DI CAPUA DI CAPUA ( DECEMBER 17, 1912 - MAY 5, 2008) KAREN OLSEN BRUHNS Fundación Nacional de Arqueología de El Salvador and San Francisco State University Costanza Di Capua examines a pot in her collection. Portrait by Jacob Blickenstaff (2006). Costanza Di Capua died unexpectedly in her Quito home in the early morning of May 5, 2008, at the age of 95. She was a dear friend of mine for over thirty years. We met when the Phoebe Hearst Museum of Anthropology at the University of California, Berkeley, called me and asked if I would guide a visitor from Ecuador. No one there knew anything at all about that ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 103-107. country and I had, at least, been there once! The visitor was Costanza. We spent the day together, looking at the displays, including type collections from Cerro Narrío, some materials from the Caribbean littoral, plus the usual flotsam that ends up in museum corners, going out to lunch, and talking all day. After that we met whenever she and her husband Alberto ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) came to San Francisco to visit their son, and I stayed with them many times in Quito, when I was doing archaeological research in Ecuador. We talked, argued, and gossiped, and had a wonderful time. Speaking with Costanza brought a breath of fresh air. She did not look at life like most of my academic friends do; she pursued her interests out of her own passion. Talking with Costanza was always stimulating, often a revelation, and sometimes, many times, I was far out of my depth. As Frank Salomon, another old friend has said (personal communication, September 2008): Yes, it’s true, conversations with Costanza were like no other conversations. To the end (we last met less than a year before her death) her focus and tenacity were absolutely strict. You had to be one hundred percent awake to take part in those conversations! But at the same time she was intellectually generous. The last thing she gave me was her paper on the place of Dante in Italian Jewish tradition, which I enjoyed mightily as I read it on a bus bumping down to Saraguro. She was a living outcrop of the very best of pre-WW II European humanism, setting an example that very few people now know how to follow. But we are trying. Costanza Di Capua was born in Rome, to an old Italian Jewish family. She attended school there, gaining an excellent education with an emphasis on Latin, Greek, philosophy, and literature. She was awarded a Ph.D. in Modern Languages in 1935 from the Universitá “La Sapienza”. Her doctoral dissertation is titled Joseph Roth, Kafka, Brod, and Judaism. Costanza spoke Italian, Spanish, French, and English fluently, although she preferred to write and to present talks in either Italian or Spanish. - 104 The latter half of the1930s was a tense time for Italian Jews. Mussolini enacted a series of anti-Semitic laws that made it difficult for Jews to earn a living, get an education, or even, eventually, to move safely in the streets. Costanza met her cousin, Alberto Di Capua, in 1938, shortly before Alberto emigrated to Ecuador. Alberto then proposed to his cousin by mail and she sailed alone to Ecuador to marry him in 1940. They set up housekeeping in a home in Calle Juan Rodríguez in the Amazonas district of Quito, then called Calle de las Casas Rojas because the houses had red roofs and fronts that imitated brick. Costanza lived in this house with Alberto to the end of both their lives. It was here that their three children, Ana Rosa, Marco, and Alejandro were born. Alberto had begun a pharmaceutical business, Laboratorios Industriales Farmacéuticos Ecuatorianos (LIFE), which soon grew to prosperity and importance. Costanza was a homemaker, somewhat at loose ends in this new land, and she threw herself into family life. Costanza was extremely fond of music and the cultural life of Quito in the 1940s and ’50s was not all that great. She got her relatives to give her phonograph records of classical music for her birthdays and anniversaries. Every Sunday she had her friends over to listen to music. Costanza became an Ecuadorian citizen in 1951 and, as her children grew and started school, she began to enter into cultural and community affairs. She was instrumental in establishing the first Jewish temple in Quito during the 1950s and, in the 1960s, was the intellectual leader and whip of a group of citizens who established the Quito Philharmonic Orchestra. She remained active in temple and cultural affairs until her death. In 1959, her children nearly grown, she began to collect Ecuadorian precolumbian art. 105 She was immediately attracted to the topic and became interested in iconography, so she began to study anthropology. This eventually resulted in a number of her most widely read and appreciated publications. Her interest led her into a long friendship, and an active collaboration, with Hernán Crespo Toral in the founding of the Museo del Banco Central del Ecuador as the national museum of archaeology, anthropology, and history. She also turned to the wonders of her new city. She was sensitive to the baroque because of her exposure to it in her native land. When she went to Quito she became interested in the Quito baroque. Because she was not a Roman Catholic, she had a certain detachment and her works are free of the stultifying religiosity of many studies of church art and architecture. Her interest resulted in a small bilingual guidebook published in 1965, Quito Colonial. This was the first work of its type ever published in Ecuador and this book, coupled with Costanza’s other efforts, was important in the establishment, in 1978, of the colonial quarter as one of UNESCO’s Heritage of Humanity sites. Their children grown, Alberto and Costanza traveled to the United States and Europe with some frequency on both business and family affairs and then, when Alberto retired and his health started to fail, they took numerous cruises. However Costanza (out of Alberto’s hearing) referred to these vacations as “another 2 weeks on the Love Boat”. She found them boring, but gladly went because it was a way her beloved Alberto could take a vacation. Alberto died in 1997. Costanza, who had kept him alive for the last decade of his life by sheer force of will, was devastated. However, she was pulled from the excesses of mourning by the need to catalogue Alberto’s (and her) books and paintings and by the desire to preserve her own freedom of action. Her children, worried Bruhns: Costanza Di Capua about her apparently declining health (a reaction to the death of her Alberto and to the years of worry and work that had gone into making the end of his life as pleasant as possible), wanted her to move to a high-rise apartment. The Amazonas district had become a tourist area and most of the houses on Juan Rodríguez were now hotels or worse. A rough element had moved in and Costanza said she often let transvestite prostitutes hide from the police in the garden. Homosexuality was illegal, and very heavily punished in Ecuador at the time. Costanza, who was a practical as well as a worldly person, did not approve. Costanza really didn’t want to leave the house where she and Alberto had spent their lives together and, fortunately, her grandson Eduardo Kohn Di Capua, was in Ecuador, using his Nona’s house as a home base while he did his field research in anthropology in the Amazon region. Eduardo worked out a system whereby, when he wasn’t there, Costanza had a nurse-companion at night as well as a secretary-companion most days. Because there were also servants in the house, this was enough to ensure her safety and wellbeing. Also, her son and grandchildren in Quito, as well as Ana Rosa’s children visited her frequently, as did many other people. Costanza was nearly blind and very deaf for the last decade of her life, but it did not slow her down a bit. Costanza was an indefatigable traveler, visiting her children and grandchildren in the United States and her old home and friends and family in Italy and Europe. At 90, her son Marco being stationed in Delhi, she traveled to India. Marco had visited Benares and described to his mother the sun rising over the Ganges. Costanza, whose interest in Dante was always phenomenal, remembered that, for Dante, Jerusalem was the center of the earth, and the sun rose in Benares and set at Gibraltar. So she had to go to India to see the sun rising for herself! ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Despite many honors from universities and institutes, Costanza never had an institutional affiliation, although she could have had one for the asking. She did not think of herself as a professional, but as a gifted and curious amateur. Considering that she was far more knowledgeable than many of my professional colleagues, and had a gift of insight into problems that was extremely penetrating, one wonders if an academic affiliation is really all that it is cracked up to be! Certainly, in Costanza’s case it made no difference at all in the quality of her thought and her publications. Not being pushed to “publish or perish”, she was free to mull over problems until she had resolved them to her own satisfaction. Her publications were limited, mainly by her own perfectionism and the fact that she was busy, as Patricia Netherly once said, “ruling the universe”. However, she always viewed her family as first and herself as second and their needs or demands had priority, even though she frequently (at least to me) complained about never having time of her own to work on her projects. Then she would laugh and say, “well, my family needs me and my friends do too” and that was that. Costanza was a matriarch and not just of her own family. She looked after all sorts of visiting or passing scholars– archaeologists, historians, artists, writers, whoever. She had an active social life and was much involved in the archaeological, literary, and musical communities of Quito. Costanza gave a great many talks, including, in her last year of life, several at the Museo del Banco Central, on iconographic themes dear to her heart. She also spoke to Italian groups in Quito and to other cultural institutions on a wide range of topics. Costanza was elected a member of the Institute of Andean Studies in Berkeley in 1979, where she presented a paper “Further Evidence of a Trophy Head Cult in Pre-Columbian Ecuador” at the annual meeting that year. This was an elaboration of her paper on trophy heads and head shrinking in Tolita - 106 that she had published the year before. Other honors included official recognition by UNESCO in 2003 of her role in the preservation of colonial Quito. In 2005 the Municipio of Quito awarded her the medal of the Order of Barón de Carondelet for her cultural efforts, and the Government of Ecuador in 2006 bestowed upon her the Gold Medal for Civic and Cultural Merit. She was also presented an Italian decoration, the Order of a Cavalier of the Star of Italian Solidarity. On April 17, 2008 the Casa de la Música of Quito rendered homage to Costanza with a special concert in honor of her role in founding the Quito Philharmonic. Costanza Di Capua is survived by her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Her daughter, Ana Rosa Di Capua de Kohn of Princeton, New Jersey, has two children, Eduardo and Emma. Eduardo and his family live in Montreal. Eduardo has two sons, Benjamin and Lucas (the latter born after Costanza’s death). Costanza’s son Marco, the Embassy Energy Advisor for the United States’ Ambassador in Beijing, and his wife Anne, have two daughters, Kathleen and Emily, who work and study in the United States. Alejandro, Costanza’s other son, and his wife Cecilia Sacoto live in Quito. Their three children, Daniela, Ana Gabriela, and Carlos Alberto, all study in Spain. Doña Costanza is also survived by a host of friends, all of whom mourn her and celebrate their good fortune at having known her. One of these friends, Frank Salomon, recalls (personal communication, September 31, 2008): . . . one of the last things she wrote (in 2006, I think) was an essay on the memory of Dante Alighieri among Italian Jews. It was really about many things besides Dante, being in truth a meditation on the humane symbiosis that Christianity and Judaism enjoyed in some parts of Italian history, and beyond that, implicitly, about 107 - Bruhns: Costanza Di Capua how Doña Costanza situated herself as a tolerant humanist who at the same time sympathized with sacred culture. A beautiful piece. In addition Doña Costanza published a great many articles on cultural matters, reviews, letters to the editor, and short articles in Quito magazines and newspapers. Of these, the only one I know anything about is a long review of The Mapmaker’s Wife which she was writing and sending to a Quito newspaper in 2005 in the hope of inspiring someone to translate this book, which is so pertinent to Ecuador, into Spanish. nell’America indigena, edited by Davide Dominici, Carolina Orsini, and Sofia Venturoli. Bologna: CLUEB. Article about Costanza Di Capua Aguirre, Milagros 1993 Costanza Di Capua: Del Tiber a Valdivia. Revista Diners 131:6-11. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: I am indebted to Marco Di Capua, Eduardo Kohn Di Capua, Frank Salomon, Ronald Lippi, and Patricia Netherly for help with this appreciation of the life of Doña Costanza. We hope she is busy, as usual, ruling the universe. SELECTED PUBLICATIONS OF COSTANZA DI CAPUA 1965 1978 1984 1985 1994 1997a 1997b 2002 2003 Quito colonial: Guía y recuerdo. Guayaquil: A. G. Seinfelder (second edition 1968, third edition 1973). Las cabezas trofeos: Un rasgo cultural de La Tolita y Jama-Coaque y breve análisis del mismo rasgo en las demás culturas del Ecuador precolombino. Antropología Ecuatoriana 1:72-164. Consideraciones sobre una exposición de sellos arqueológicos. Antropología Ecuatoriana 2-3:79103. Chaman y jaguar: Iconografía de la cerámica prehistórica de la Costa Ecuatoriana. Miscelanea Antropológica Ecuatoriana 6:157-169. Valdivia Figurines and Puberty Rituals: An Hypothesis. Andean Past 4:229-270. La luna y el Islam, La serpiente e el Inka: Una semántica de la Imaculada en España y su mensaje ulterior en la Virgen de Quito. Memoria 7:95-119 (Instituto de Historia y Antropología Andinas, Quito). Una atribución cultural controvertida. Fronteras de la Investigación 1:5-14. De la imagen al Icono: Estudios de arqueologia e historia del Ecuador. Quito: Ediciones Abya-Yala. Una interpretación tentativa para los figurines “Palmar Inciso”. In Il sacro e il paesaggio Costanza di Capua as a young woman in the kitchen of her house in Calle Juan Rodríguez. Costanza was a wonderful cook. Ronald Lippi swears that her rabbit and polenta was the best he has ever had. Many of us, including, I suspect, Alberto, would vote for her pasta dishes. RECONSTRUCTION OF THE BURIAL OFFERING AT PUNKURÍ IN THE NEPEÑA VALLEY OF PERU’S NORTH-CENTRAL COAST VÍCTOR FALCÓN HUAYTA Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Perú In 1933 Julio C. Tello began a program of field-work in the Nepeña Valley. There he carried out various projects, among them excavations at a site called Punguri by local people then and Punkurí by archaeologists and the general public today. At the time, Tello was interested in everything related to his concept of Chavín. At present, Tello’s field records are divided between the Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú (MNAAHP) and the Museo de Arqueología y Antropología of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos (MAA-UNMSM). Previously unpublished documents relating to Tello’s excavations at Cerro Blanco and at Punkurí were recently printed by MAA-UNMSM (Tello 2005). In the course of investigating the role of large exotic molluscs including Spondylus princeps, Strombus galeatus, Conus fergusoni, and Fasciolaria princeps, among others, in the ritual and paraphernalia of central Andean precolumbian societies, my colleagues and I found a “natural trumpet” made from the shell of a Strombus galeatus, a marine gastropod (Falcón et al. 2005). Later, I established that it pertained to the burial context of a “sacrificed woman” found by Tello at Punkurí, which he declared enthusiastically to be “the first trace of the people of the Chavín culture identified in the area” ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 109-129. (Anon. 1933b in Daggett 1987:139).1 This article analyses the circumstances of the discovery of this burial context and the objects associated with it. The goal is to reconstruct the event which included the deposit of this precolumbian trumpet or huayllaquepa which is, at present, the only object known to remain from the context excavated by Tello at this site.2 PUNKURÍ Punkurí, as described by Tello, is on the right bank of the lower Nepeña River Valley, at km 409 on the Pan-American Highway North, where it makes a turn to the east, near the town of San Jacinto. Its distance from the coast is 27 km and its altitude is 230 masl (Daggett 1987: 1 “El primer hallazgo de las gentes de la cultura Chavín, identificado en el terreno”. 2 The whereabouts of all the other objects associated with this burial offering are unknown, although the discovery was published in various periodicals of the day and extensive field data are now available. These objects, among which are a stone mortar and pestle, both beautifully decorated, belong to Peru’s national cultural patrimony and their value is emblematic because they correspond to a context excavated by one of the founders of Peruvian archaeology; they belong to a time in which the earliest iconographic repertories associated with monumental architecture were being created; and they come from a known archaeological context which makes them one of only two known cases. The other Formative decorated stone mortar from an excavated context was recently recovered from the Santa Valley site of San Juanito (Chapdelaine and Pimentel 2008:248-253). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 110 114; Vega-Centeno 1999:5). Today the setting of Punkurí is the same as Julio C. Tello when saw it more than seventy years ago (Figure 1). under the direction of Lorenzo Samaniego Román changed the fortunes of this monument by preparing it for visitors.3 Like many of the huacas in the valleys of the Peruvian coast, Punkurí appeared to be an earthen mound set in the middle of sugar cane fields, in this case belonging then to the Sociedad Agrícola Nepeña Ltda (Nepeña Agricultural Company Ltd.), administered by a NorthAmerican, John B. Harrison, who had excavated there in 1929 (Daggett 1987:112). Harrison had also excavated at Cerro Blanco during the previous year, when, during the course of the construction of irrigation canals and wagon roads, its well-known Chavinoid walls were uncovered. It was the photographs of these murals that made Tello take an interest in the Nepeña Valley sites (Bischof 1997:203; Daggett 1987:111-112). RECONSTRUCTION OF THE PUNKURÍ BURIAL Through the recent publication of Tello’s field notes, it is now known that Punkurí was the object of at least two clandestine excavations. The first of these was conducted by another hacienda administrator called Subiriá in the western part of the site many years previously (“hace muchos años”). The second excavation was by Harrison (Tello 2005:76; Figure 2). Tello’s work at the site attracted the attention of the press. Nevertheless, once the site had become old news and the emotion of the moment had passed, Punkurí did not become the object of greater attention, and the continuity of research there was lost because of the political hostilities of the government at the time towards Tello (Daggett 2007:81, 83-84, 87-91). No conservation measures were taken, and the face of the polychrome clay sculpture of a feline, unique in all the Andes, was destroyed (Bischof 1994:173; Samaniego 2006:18, 22-23; VegaCenteno 1999:7, 12). Fortunately, in 1998, a research and restoration project at Punkurí OFFERING In this article I consider the burial offering in its funerary context, which is characterized by its status as a primary context, its articulation with the monument’s architecture, and its composition and associated objects, the majority of them elaborate and exotic in relation to the location of the find. Until recently, the absence of better references to the work of Tello at Punkurí forced researchers to resort to reports in newspapers of the day, to discussion of the little iconography that had been published, and to site visits (Bischof 1994, 1995; Daggett 1987; Proulx 1973, Vega-Centeno 1998, 1999). As for the discovery and description of the contents of the burial offering, there were only brief references (Anon. 1933b in Daggett 1987:139; Tello 1943:136137), a few profile drawings of excavations in the temple, and a photo which shows the funerary context at the foot of the clay feline (Larco 2001:15-29, figure 24). In this article I reconstruct events related to the excavation of the burial offering, principally as narrated by recently published documents from the Tello Archive.4 There is detailed information about the way that Tello came to work in the Nepeña Valley (Bischof 1997; Daggett 1987:112). According to 3 (http//www.uns.edu.pe/punkuri/punkuri6.html; consulted July 20, 2008). 4 I worked directly from papers in the Tello Archive in UNMSM. However, because those documents are now published, I refer to the pagination of the published book, not to the original foliation of the documents themselves. 111 the field notes, when Tello decided to excavate in front of the clay feline, an earlier excavation had already been made in the area by Harrison’s workers who had begun to excavate the “waka” from its upper part in the north, opening a deep trench. They had encountered what Tello later called the “Painted Staircase” (“escalera pintada”) and the clay feline found in the middle of it (Tello 2005:76, photo P9/F2/ 56 on p. 78). The discovery of the feline made Harrison and his workers so enthusiastic they were about to destroy the head of the idol under the suspicion that it contained the treasure they sought. Fortunately, Harrison did not take the suggestion and decided to contact Tello (ibid.). Continuing his search, Harrison discovered a small quadrangular feature at the top of the monument and decided to excavate almost its entire floor which was at a depth of 4 meters from the top of the excavation. At this point he was halted by the resistance of the fill and the lack of results (ibid.: 80-81). Under these circumstances, Harrison ordered excavation in front of the clay idol to a depth of one meter, at which point excavation ended because of the compaction of the fill (ibid.: 90). Four years later, on Tuesday, 19 September 1933, Tello’s workers had already cleared the rubble left by Harrison on the part of the site containing the Painted Staircase, the clay feline, and in front of it. Tello decided to excavate there because he thought that Harrison’s test trench was shallow, and that by deepening it one might encounter human remains (“algunos cadáveres”) given the presence of the idol nearby. An important point is that Tello said that Harrison broke the plaster of the floor (“rompió el enlucido del piso”), which consisted of a layer apparently formed by lime and sand, or perhaps by a special whitened clay and sand, which formed a cap some 4 cm thick, located over Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí another surface painted brick-red (ibid.).5 On the following day, Tello cleared the area better, and confirmed that earth had previously been removed. Nevertheless, he decided to go at least 2 m deeper in order to understand the structure of the huaca (ibid.).6 At that point Platform 2 was already quite clear. During this operation Tello discovered a lower plastered and painted wall, distinct from the staircase structure, and he decided to follow it. He was sure he had an interesting discovery and enlarged the area of excavation to 3.5m in length by 2.5 m in width, ordering his workers to dig “until reaching the painted wall” (“hasta alcanzar el muro pintado”; ibid.). The following day, when the area was cleared to a depth of a meter, Tello ordered the work to stop there. He went into the trench to examine the excavation to decide if they would continue to deepen it only near the painted wall, which had been discovered about 30cm below, and a little in front of, the last step of the Painted Staircase (ibid.).7 With his shovel he removed a lump and was surprised to notice the rim of what appeared to be a cup (“taza”) which he examined in private and which gave him the “sensation of stone or of iron” (“sensación de piedra o de fierro”; ibid.: 91). Tello had been presented with a a stone mortar which he did not disinter immediately because, as he said, Not being yet sure of the type of object I had found, I covered it with earth and I re- 5 “Torta formada aparentemente por cal y arena o tal vez por una arcilla especial blanquizca y arena que forma una capa como de cuatro centímetros de grueso colocada sobre otra superficie pintada de ladrillo.” 6 “por lo menos unos 2m de profundidad con el fin de conocer la estructura de la huaca”. 7 “Había descubierto como a 30 centímetros por debajo y un poco atrás del último peldaño de la escalera pintada.” ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) mained at the site and ordered the laborers to continue working at my side . . .8 They were continuing to go down on the sides while Tello remained above the mortar, when one of them alerted him to the presence of an object “in the form of a drill” (“en forma de barreno”). Tello covered the new find and the work day continued. The fact that the workers were speaking in Quechua aroused his suspicions. Tello indicated that he once again covered with earth the finds of the day and selected a new watchman to stay and sleep at the site, guarding the objects until the following day. In the afternoon the administrator of the hacienda and his wife arrived at Punkurí. Tello told them what had happened and invited them to witness on the next day the removal of the stone objects including a “large stone vessel with engravings in the Chavín style and a tool similar to a mace, also completely made of stone” (ibid.).9 - 112 Copper objects and human bones, which appeared to be disturbed, were located “in the back-dirt” (“en el desmonte”). On Thursday, 21 September, Tello expanded and cleaned his excavation with the goal of photographing the objects in situ, finding fragments of purplish clay murals. He once again checked the prepared surface of the platform and the fill consisting of “layers of semi-spherical adobes slightly flattened, and hardened clay with a few stones” (ibid.: 93).11 We note the absence up to now of references to the presence of ceramics in the fill. This situation continued throughout the course of the excavation and is very important because it contradicts the information which subsequently appeared in newspapers of the time. I continue to follow events from Tello’s perspective: at about 1.2m from the line which the upper part of the sounding forms with the base of the first step of the Painted Staircase, as one sees in the attached schematic drawing, a precious gray stone mortar with decoration in relief on its external surface was found, as well as a large pestle also made of stone (ibid.).12 In an account of the events of this day Tello said he took down a wall which ran longitudinally along the platform and which retained its fill. Likewise he indicated that during the excavation of the two stone objects towards the rear center of the sounding a mound of ash and small carbon fragments was found, as well as guinea pig skeletons at two sides, and a type of white plumage at various points (ibid.: 92).10 8 “No seguro aún de la clase de objeto que había encontrado lo cubrí con tierra me paré sobre el sitio y ordené a los obreros que continuaran trabajando a mi alrededor . . .” 9 “Vaso grande de piedra con grabados al estilo Chavín y otra que es una herramienta semejante a una porra también toda de piedra”. 10 “Durante la excavación que condujo al hallazgo de las dos piezas de piedra se encontró hacia la parte media y posterior del pozo un montón de ceniza y pequeños Harrison took photos and filmed the discovery. At this point Tello intuited that he was being fragmentos de carbón y a uno y otro lado esqueletos de cuyes y una especie de plumilla blanca en varios sitios.” 11 “Capas de adobes semiesféricos aplanados o achatados y barro endurecido con algunas piedras”. 12 “Como a 1.20m de la línea que en la parte superior del pozo forma la base del primer peldaño de la escalera pintada como se ve en el esquema adjunto se encontraron. . . un precioso mortero de piedra gris con ornamentaciones en relieve en su cara externa y un largo moledor igualmente de piedra”. 113 presented with his first authentic Chavín tomb (“auténticamente Chavín”). Successive events confirmed his hunch of being near the body of the burial. Continuing, he noted the presence of very fine purplish dust and a few pieces of charcoal. Soon I [Tello] discovered the skull and from its position I deduced that the body was placed with the face up and a little forward (ibid.: 94).13 The fragile bones of the cadaver defined the position of the body with the head towards the east and the feet to the west. The purplish fine dust was found mainly around the waist and pelvis of the individual. Tello attributed its presence to the remains of the soft tissues (“partes blandas”) and the clothes of the cadaver. At this time Tello, as he later did in the company of Rafael Larco Hoyle, recovered many turquoise beads and a bluish stone. . . The beads were of different sizes, and of various shapes; the work is relatively crude in the majority of the beads, nevertheless, a few are very well made, especially a large sphere (ibid.).14 One must observe that, up to this point, Tello does not mention in his field notes the presence of several objects associated with the burial offering, such as the huayllaquepa made of Strom- 13 “Un polvillo muy fino de color violáceo y de algunos trozos de carbón de palo . . . Pronto descubrí [dice Tello] el cráneo y por su posición deduje que el cadáver estuvo echado pues la cara estaba hacia arriba con una ligera inclinación adelante” (ibid.: 94). Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí bus galeatus and the Spondylus princeps valves to which we will return later. The objects found were moved to the nearby town of San José. On Friday 22 September, Tello’s team proceeded with the excavation of the fill containing the funerary context until they arrived at the floor on which the body had been placed. Likewise, the clearing of the north or main façade and the east side of the temple continued. During this work they found a few isolated cadavers, some Moche sherds, and constructions of rectangular adobes within the rubble near the surface. This aspect is interesting, because such references are characteristic of mentions which appear in the field notes of the presence of human remains, among which were isolated skulls. The presence of another type of ceramic is only referred to in a news article dated 28 September, which was neither written nor dictated by Tello, in which “fragments of black ceramics” (“fragmentos de cerámica negra”) were mentioned (Anon 1933a in Daggett 1987:137). When Tello referred to the presence of ceramics at Punkurí in a newspaper report, he did so in the following manner: “I also found ceramic fragments which belong to the finest types and pieces encountered” (ibid. 136).15 As we have seen, this could refer to the presence of Moche ceramics which were found in the rubble which covered Punkurí. Saturday, 23 September was dedicated to clearing the two columns that began to appear towards the east side of the temple, and to almost completely clearing the main (north) facade (Figure 3). According to the available records, the body was not touched, and clearance was limited to a niche at the foot of the 14 “Numerosas cuentas de turquesas y de una piedra azulada. . . Las cuentas eran de diferentes tamaños, y de varias formas, el trabajo es relativamente tosco en la mayoría de las cuentas; sin embargo, unas están muy bien talladas principalmente una grande esférica” (ibid.). 15 “Hallé también fragmentos de cerámica que acusan pertenecer a modelos y piezas de los más finos que se han encontrado.” ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) idol. At the end of the day Toribio Mejía Xesspe and his wife arrived from Lima. On Sunday, 24 September, Punkurí received the visit of various personalities who took part in the extraction of the individual within the burial offering. Among them were Rafael and Javier Larco Hoyle, Alfredo Hoyle, a Mr. Miñano, a photographer, and the draftsman Mr. Díaz. Views of the context were recorded with still photographs and on ciné film. Rafael Larco Hoyle and Tello concentrated their work on the body of the burial offering and Tello declared, It appears that the cadaver corresponded to an individual of poor constitution who was probably put to rest with the muscles and legs flexed. Around the body, especially around the waist, I encountered a multitude of turquoise beads, and a few purple cylindrical beads, some triangular plates with closed [sic] edges, or sharp objects which look like shark teeth. In addition a good set of shell beads was found, and a magnificent example of Strombus with the external surface also worked in Chavín style” (ibid.).16 This is the first mention of the huayllaquepa of Strombus galeatus, in spite of the fact that it certainly would have been visible since the day when the stone objects were removed, because it was located between them and the body of the individual. The Strombus was broken into sev16 “Parece que el cadáver correspondiera a un individuo de constitución pobre y al ser acostado se le colocó probablemente con los muslos y piernas flexionadas. Alrededor del cadáver y principalmente alrededor de la cintura encontré multitud de cuentas de turquesas y algunas cuentas cilíndricas de color morado, de láminas triangulares con bordes cerrados [sic] o espinosos que parecen dientes de tiburón. Además se encontró un buen lote de cuentas de conchas y un magnífico ejemplar de Strombus que presenta la superficie externa labrada también del estilo Chavín.” - 114 eral pieces, perhaps by the weight of the fill, or perhaps during handling, so that only Tello perceived the incisions which mark its Chavín affiliation. The left hand on the last curve of the huayllaquepa shell was not noticed, so this motif remained unknown (Figure 4).17 Toribio Mejía assumed the recording for the excavations on the following day, Monday, 25 September, as indicated by the notes in the Tello Archive of the MAA-UNMSM. On this day the removal of the last elements of the context was finished, adding additional data about the event. Mejía noted that 70 shells of Scutalus proteus appeared “at the sides and shoulder of the body” along with a good quantity of beads made of turquoise and of shells, two examples of Spondylus pictorum with two pairs of perforations made in order to wear them as pendants. The presence of very fine, pulverized, somewhat purplish earth is noted around and below the body, as if it consists of the remains of clothing, or other objects that perhaps accompanied the cadaver (Mejía in Tello 2005:97).18 17 Milano Trejo Huayta found the remains of the huayllaquepa from Punkurí in two separate bags in the MNAAHP storehouse of organic material in 1999. Later, noticing the similarity of the fragments and their joins, he proceeded to glue the parts together, reconstructing the conch trumpet and revealing, in this way, the incised design of a left hand. The recent final restoration was entrusted to Rosa Martínez Navarro, conservator of the MNAAHP (Falcón et al. 2005). 18 “A los lados y hombro del cadáver: buena cantidad de cuentas de turquesa de conchas, dos ejemplares de Spondylus pictorum con dos pares de perforaciones como para llevar colgados. Se constató la presencia de tierra muy fina pulverizada de aspecto algo violáceo alrededor y debajo del cadáver como si se tratara de restos de las partes tal vez correspondientes a los vestidos, algunos otros objetos que quizás acompañaron al cadáver.” This was written by Toribio Mejía Xesspe in the site notebook. 115 - Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí pet, whose surface appears ornamented with hidden [sic] figures, also in Chavín style; sixty examples of land snails (Scutalus proteus); a pair of mollusc shells (Spondylus pictorum); and skeletal remains of guinea pigs and birds, very fragmentary and partially pulverized (Anon. 1933b in Daggett 1987: 139).19 Having cleaned the area, they noted that the individual had been placed on a platform and that the back of the body had made a small depression in it. Later, the work was organized to clear the walls with polychrome reliefs which were encountered on both sides of the burial offering. At this point lenses of ash and molluscs were detected. I stress that Mejía also did not mention ceramics in the fill, except when he referred to “Muchik ceramics” (“cerámica Muchik”) in the upper fill. On the other hand, the iconography of the reliefs has been written up and discussed and several photos of them have been published (Bischof 1994:173 figure 3d; Daggett 1987:116-117; Samaniego 1992). To this we can add the publication of the Tello Archive (2005). DISCUSSION What was the fullest description we have of this burial offering before the publication of the field notes? In a newspaper interview that appeared on 2 October 1933, Tello mentioned its components in this context: Having made a test pit in front of the small platform on which the talons of the idol rested, and only at a depth of 2m, a body was encountered. . . It was placed in an east-west direction. Next to it were found two stone objects, a large vessel and a type of pestle, both ornamented with figures in relief, in Chavín style. . . Around the body, and mainly at the level of the pelvis, about a kilo of turquoise beads was found, of different forms and sizes, from the small, discoidal bead, almost flat, to the large bead, spherical or cylindrical, and weighing eight to ten grams. Also found was a conch shell (Strombus galeatus) trum- Mejía did the recording on 25 September 1933. Now we know that there was a sequence in the appearance and location of the objects associated with the burial offering and we can draw some important conclusions: (1) It is improbable that the burial offering had an entrance to the surface of the platform which extended to the feet of the feline. Even if it is certain that Tello did not see the original surface, he ascertained that Harrison broke it in his search and Tello encountered remains of this surface as soon as he enlarged his own excavation. Likewise, it is difficult to think that if Harrison had found any indication of the presence of a tomb he would not have continued. Nevertheless, he abandoned the excavation at only a meter’s depth from the start. In consequence, it is most probable that the tomb was sealed and hidden with the fill of the second platform. 19 “Al realizarse un cateo delante de la pequeña plataforma donde descansaban las garras del ídolo, y sólo a dos metros de profundidad, se encontró un cadáver. . . estuvo echado en dirección E.O; junto a él se encontraron dos objetos de piedra; un gran vaso y una especie de porra, ambos ornamentados con figuras de relieve, del estilo Chavín. . . Alrededor del cadáver, y principalmente al nivel de la pelvis, se concentró como un kilo de cuentas de turquesas de diferentes formas y tamaños, desde la cuenta pequeña discoidal casi laminar, hasta la cuenta grande, esférica o cilíndrica y de peso de ocho a diez gramos. Se halló, además, una trompeta de caracol (Strombus galeatus), cuya superficie aparece ornamentada con figuras escondidas [sic], también al estilo Chavín; sesenta ejemplares de caracol terrestre (Scutalus proteus); un par de conchas (Spondylus pictorum) y restos de esqueletos de kuyes y aves, muy fragmentados y en parte pulverizados.” ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) (2) Until now, the presence of Early Formative ceramics at Punkurí has been suggested on the basis of news items published in the periodicals of the time (Anon. 1933a in Daggett 1987, Daggett 1987:116; Proulx 1973:15). Nevertheless, in the light of the field notes and current observations we can conclude that in the fills which constituted the matrix of the funerary context there were no sherds from this period. (3) On the basis of my review of the field notes and photographs I propose the following sequence for the inhumation of the Punkurí burial offering: (a) On the floor of the first platform and at the middle of the entrance whose lateral walls exhibit the painted friezes with a zoomorphic personage in a horizontal position, identified as a bird (Daggett 1987:117, figure 4b), or as “ferocious mythical animals” Bischof 1994:173), the body of a woman20 was identified, in a flexed position, and with the head towards the east. The face looked up and had a slight forward inclination. Apparently the body was attired in a purplish garment.21 At the sides and around the shoulders were placed lomas22 snail shells of the species Scutalus proteus and many beads of turquoise and other stones, mainly around the waist. Around this section were found two pierced Spondylus princeps 20 The sex of the individual is mentioned in the note of an anonymous journalist, who surely was told of it by Tello, dated 28 September, 1933 (Anon. 1937a in Daggett 1987; Tello 1943:137). - 116 valves, but the exact location cannot be determined. Later, some type of burning was possibly done. (b) During this initial part of the burial offering sequence a huayllaquepa of Strombus galeatus was placed with its mouth or stoma facing downwards. The incised left hand remained visible on the dorsal face of the marine gastropod. The piece was unbroken at the moment of its deposit, and was fractured by the weight of the fill. Nevertheless, the ventral part, adjacent to the stoma (columela) contained a round hole in the middle which could hardly be a fracture made by the fill or during the time of removing the specimen from the burial. This suggests that the huayllaquepa may have been ritually sacrificed by breaking this part in an intentional manner, before placement. Likewise, in the broad incisions which make the design of the left hand one finds the remains of red pigment which Larco also observed on the bones of the individual (Falcón et al. 2005; Vega-Centeno 1999:6). (c) These objects were lightly buried and later the stone mortar was deposited with its principal design facing up. Around its base was placed the large pestle or “mano”, also decorated with incised strokes.23 (d) Finally, in order to raise the level of the fill, a retention wall was constructed and a fire was made. Beside it were deposited guinea pigs. Likewise some feathers were spread in the fill.24 21 Tello and Mejía suggest this repeatedly. One must consider the possibility that the purplish substance relates to a pigment or colored earth, because mural fragments of this color were found in the fill. In an account of these events, Mejía gives the depth of this level as 1.6m from the surface of the platform (Tello 2005:114). 22 24 In Peruvian geography and archaeology, lomas is a term referring to the slopes of the western Andean foothills and the seasonal patches of vegetation upon that that derive their moisture from fog. 23 I have not considered the copper finds that Tello mentioned because they were apparently in disturbed contexts. Likewise, I note that a pencil drawing indicates the presence of a support stone (“piedra de apoyo”) below 117 (e) When the fill covered the lower 30cm of the walls with the clay friezes, the surface upon which the new platform was constructed was prepared (Figure 5). Finally, one has to take into account an inventory that Mejía prepared of the “species found next to the Chavín cadaver” (“especies encontradas junto con el cadáver Chavín”) of Punkurí. Among these notes are mentions of the following: (1) Perforated shells of Scutalus proteus snails, among which were found “five triangular beads of serrated teeth, identical to five others which figure in P12”,25 which are assigned a provenience of the fill of the habitations of Building I.26 These last are 3cm long by 2cm the mortar (Tello 2005:92, drawing on folio 518v (104) of the archive), assigning it the letter “d” and showing it in a schematic drawing of the base of the excavation (“fondo de la excavación”) of the burial offering. On the other hand, a statement by Tello to the press about the contents of the funeral context indicates the presence of bird bones (Tello 1933) which are consigned to a list of “objects found in the fill of the houses of Building I” by Mejía (Tello 2005:115) next to a polished turquoise bead, from which it is reasonable to think that it belonged to the burial offering context in that, apparently, deposits of such objects were made as the platform was in-filled. Some of these extraneous objects would be the unusual conical adobes with incised faces or surfaces to which Santiago Antúnez de Mayolo called attention and tried to explain (Antúnez de Mayolo 1933 in Daggett 1987:161). Likewise, in a statement to the press, Tello argued that he had encountered “in the lower fill of Punkurí some beads of rock crystal, worked and polished in a special manner . .” (Tello 1933 in Daggett 1987:147; “en los rellenos más inferiores de Punkurí algunas cuentas de cristal de roca, talladas y pulidas de una manera especial . . .”), all of which leads one to consider that the process of adding fill to raise the platforms of these structures was a ritual act. 25 “Cinco cuentas triangulares de dientes aserrados, idénticos a otros cinco que figuran en P12”. 26 Building I or “Edificio I/I edificio” was used by Tello in his field notes to designate the earliest construction phase Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí wide at the base and have two perforations, presumably in order to be strung. (2) Flat turquoises that were square, circular, and rectangular. (3) Cubical beads of “Spondylus pictorum or of Strombus galeatus”. (4) Large, flat beads of Spondylus pictorum whose length varies between 2 and 4.8cm, among them two triangular ones, and one in the form of a human foot with incised toes (“pie humano con dedos incididos”), etc. (Mejía in Tello 2005:115). ELEMENTS ASSOCIATED WITH THE BURIAL OFFERING One of the problems affecting Peruvian state museums is the need to order and catalogue collections. It is usual to emphasize research, which must take place as one of the indispensable pillars of their activity, even if it does not receive the same emphasis and have the same resources as are allocated to it in modern museums. Cataloguing and research are indissolubly linked, because it is not possible to deepen the knowledge of a collection, series, or object that is part of a museum’s holdings if previously there was not the minimum control of a computerized inventory and acquisition data. I now comment on the most important elements of the burial offering and ask some questions concerning their whereabouts.27 at Punkurí. 27 According to published letters, we now know that the political events in Peru at the beginning of the 1930s influenced the changes in the direction of the institutions related to the Nepeña campaign which, in turn, caused a resurgence in the intellectual rivalries that obstructed Tello’s work and contributed to a turbulent atmosphere (Tello 2005:165-179). In relation to this Toribio Mejía Xesspe declared, “Because of the absolute abandonment ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) The human remains. The fragile skeletal remains of the burial offering of Punkurí (skull, long bones, and “other pieces” (“otros pedazos”) were recovered and sent to Lima during the Cerro Blanco campaign. The Storehouse of Human Remains at MNAAHP contains only four skulls from this site, which, on the basis of their characteristics and annotations written on them in pencil, correspond to those discovered in the fill over the site. The bone remains of the Punkurí burial offering have not been located. The huayllaquepa of Strombus galeatus As mentioned above, this object was removed from the burial offering in pieces. Nevertheless, thanks to the only photo of the context published by Rafael Larco Hoyle, who was an exceptional witness, we can identify it as the specimen in the Storehouse of Organic Material of MNAAHP, because the photo shows a broken, whitish, ovoid object among the remains of a burial located at two meters below the clay feline (Larco 2001 [1938]: figure 24). Later research provides more evidence for relating the photo to the huayllaquepa. A photo in the Tello Archivo of MNAAHP (negative 101), and some in the archive of the MAA-UNMSM, now published, confirm this definitively because in the photos one observes the huayllaquepa, its breaks, and the little and ring fingers of the engraved left hand. This object was restored in the MNAAHP. The team there identified its archaeological by the government and the institutions charged with the conservation and study of archaeological ruins at the time, the excavated parts of the Templo de Punkurí were reburied on the express order of Professor Tello. . .” (Samaniego 2006:99; “Por abandono absoluto de parte del Gobierno y de las instituciones encargadas de la conservación y estudio de las ruinas arqueológicas, en la fecha, se realiza la tarea de enterramiento de las partes descubiertas del Templo de Punkurí por orden expresa del Profesor Tello. . .”). - 118 context, restored its original appearance and incised design, recovered its sonic register, and exhibited it (Falcón et al. 2005; Figures 6, 7). Stone objects The identity and quality of stone objects was already made clear with the publication and study of Tello’s field notes. Nevertheless, before this there was a little confusion that arose at the time of the excavation of Punkurí. In an issue of La Crónica, one of the newspapers that published news of the events, dated 5 October 1933, there is a photograph in which appear two of the vessels brought from Nepeña by Dr. Tello. Some of the symbols which will be studied by the archaeologist can be seen faintly.28 One of these vessels (“vasos”), that which shows a thick band below its lip and three triangles pointing towards the base, like large tusks, is the one that appears in association with the burial offering (negatives 94 and 106 of the Tello archive at MNAAHP). This is corroborated by Mejía in his list of objects encountered in association with the burial offering. The other piece corresponds to the “stone Chavín vessel” (“vaso Chavín de piedra”) purchased by Tello from someone called Silva, whom he met in the Hotel Central owned by Víctor L. Pérez of Chimbote (folio 122 del Archivo Tello de MAA-UNMSM). Its iconographic characteristics correspond with those of the mortar afterwards known to have come from Suchimán in the Santa Valley. Later, when Tello returned to the theme of the funerary context and its description, he noted, in respect to the stone objects, “a mortar and pestle, both of diorite, polished and engraved with figures in the classic 28 “Dos de los vasos traídos de Nepeña por el doctor Tello. Pueden verse débilmente algunas de las simbolografías que serán estudiadas por el arqueólogo”. 119 Chavín style” (Tello 1943:137, figure 17a) and illustrated both mortars with their respective identifications (ibid.: 17b). In 1948 Rebeca Carrión Cachot published drawings of both mortars as coming from Nepeña (Carrión Cachot 1948: 125, plate 11, figures 7, 8). Curiously, the designs are placed in the same position in which they appear in the La Crónica photos. A little more than a decade ago a photo of the Suchimán mortar was published (Kaulicke 1994:392, figure 368). It is very similar to one of Carrión Cachot’s drawings (ibid.: plate 11, figure 8), but is different from the one illustrated by Tello as having come from this site (Tello 1943: figure 17b), possibly because the other side of the piece is shown. For his part, Henning Bischof published drawings of three mortars (1994: figure 12): (a) that from Punkurí; (b) that of Suchimán as presented by Tello (1943); and (c) one without provenience drawn by Bischof from a photo in the archive of MNAAHP. The last is the same as that illustrated by Kaulicke (1994) as coming from Suchimán. Kaulicke suggests that (b) and (c) are one and the same, the Suchimán mortar (Bischof 1994: figure 12a-c, 1995:170, figure 7), which is correct. Finally, later work, in which the two views of the Suchimán mortar which had previously been presented separately are combined, suggests its iconographic development (VegaCenteno 1998: 195, 196, figure 5c). Nevertheless, it lacks several important motifs that were already part of the iconographic repertoire (Tello 2005:107, [P9/F7249]). Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí reality, three attached bands that turn in a spiral around the piece (Figure 8).29 With respect to the Punkurí mortar I can indicate its decorative restraint on the basis of three iconographic motifs: (a) a stepped fret with mirror repeats and with the base of the design at the rim of the vessel. The stepped fret is emphasized by means of a line which defines a band; (b) the three large and sharp triangles which separate the step fret elements and end at the base of the vessel; and (c) a rectangular motif running horizontally within a thick band below the rim, such that it repeats around the whole circumference. The long sides of this motif have small breaks in two places. Within this motif are two inscribed lines, also with small breaks. The step fret motif is very similar to the upper heads of the “staffs of authority” (“bastones de mando”) or scepters carried by the “warrior-priests” of Cerro Sechín (Bischof 1995: 165, figure 4e). It is differentiated only by the triangular space which is made by a diagonal stroke that creates a division from the upper left vertex of the figure towards the base of the step fret. In this space three rectangles are inscribed. The three sharp triangles are comparable with those that emerge from a similar motif called the “Eccentric Subrectangular Eye” (“Ojo Subrectangular Excéntrico”; ibid.: figure 4b) in the 29 With respect to the pestle with incised designs, we previously did not have any illustration or description except the comment of Antúnez de Mayolo that it was “adorned with a pair of designs in ribbons” (Antúnez 1933 in Daggett 1987:160; “adornado con un par de dibujos en lazos”). Now we have a photo available which shows the design in some detail, so we can add that the “lazos” appear to be, in During the course of research my colleagues and I went to the Storehouse of Lithic Materials of the MNAAHP in search of these pieces, but without results. We did not find the objects, nor did we encounter the “kilo” of turquoises. We thank Julissa Ugarte Garay for her kind attention. We continued the search in the collection of lithic materials at MAA-UNMSM with equally negative results. Faced with the physical absence of the stone objects from the burial offering in the institutions in which they should be, we registered a formal complaint to the National Institute of Culture in the second half of 2006. We did the same for the other missing components of this context and for the Suchimán Mortar. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) iconography of the Suchimán mortar (Tello 2005:107, P9/ F7/ 249). The only difference is that in the Punkurí example the motif is emphasized by a band. The rectangle with lightly broken inscribed lines is similar to the motif engraved on a stone block from Sechín Alto (Samaniego 1995:39, 40, figure 13) which is exhibited in the Museo Max Uhle in Casma. Therefore, the three motifs which decorate the Punkurí mortar reoccur in the iconography of stone objects dating to this period from the Casma and Santa Valleys and, because the find spot of the Punkurí mortar is proximate to the staircase, this mortar is directly associated with an object that denotes power. The other associated objects The potential of the study and analysis of molluscs from precolumbian archaeological contexts has been established (Rivadeneira and Piccone-Saponara 1998:31; Sandweiss and Rodríguez 1991:55, 56) so that, although we have not found those from the burial offering, we can still offer some commentary on the Spondylus princeps valves which are part of the list of sumptuary and exotic objects associated with the burial offering. It must be noted that these are complete worked pieces and are part of the earliest evidence of this type in these circumstances, occurring a little before the presence of ceramics in the Central Andes at c. 1600 B.C. As we know, later they become more frequent and were part of the ceramic and lithic cultures of Cupisnique and Chavín during the first millennium B.C. In spite of their number (seventy individuals), until now little attention has been given to the terrestrial gastropods of the species Scutalus proteus associated with the Punkurí tomb. These are lomas snails which reach a size between 3.5 and 5 cm. They can be considered part of the food offerings and are also represented as such in Moche ceramics (Donnan 1978: figure 102). - 120 Finally, the guinea pig and bird bones were other evidence of the diet associated with this important context. THE BURIAL OFFERING AND ITS RELATIONSHIP TO THE TEMPLE OF PUNKURÍ: CHRONOLOGY Several authors have dealt with the theme of the construction phases of Punkurí and its relation to the early cultural traditions of the central Andes. They agree that there have been at least three construction phases (Bischof 1994: see figure 2, section; Daggett 1987; Samaniego 2006; Vega-Centeno 1998, 1999). The context of the burial offering was located in the fill of “Platform 2” (“plataforma 2”; Figure 9) and was deposited as part of this. This is assigned to the second construction phase of Punkurí, or “Phase A-2” (“fase A-2”; Vega-Centeno 1999:7-11). The famous clay feline is part of Phase B-1 (“fase B-1”; ibid.:13). Vega-Centeno places Punkurí in the Early Formative c.1800 B.C.1200 B.C. Nevertheless, on the basis of stylistic comparisons, I deduce a different chronological range for Punkurí. I present the arguments for it here. A first coherent grouping was made by Tello, who indicated that a bas relief stone plaque engraved with a “crouching” (“agazapado”) feline had traits sufficiently naturalistic to relate it to the corpus of Chavín objects which, according to him, was its place of origin (Kan 1972:73, figure 7; Tello 1960:228).30 Kan, however, questioned this assignment, and also the Chavín affiliation of the painted feline on the clay building of Cerro Sechín (Kan 1972:74, figure 8). Finally, he distinguished the sculpted feline of Punkurí from the Chavín style, al- 30 Nevertheless, it must be noted that Tello also related this engraved plaque directly to the Punkurí feline head (Tello 1960:229). 121 though the monument itself appeared to indicate a Chavín affiliation (ibid.: 76, figure 11). Later, a study of the early Chavín styles and their precedents reunited these three icons once again under a more unified classificatory scheme, and added another example to the group, the petroglyph of a feline with an inscribed bird, located in the Jequetepeque Valley (Bischof 1994:180, figure 14d; 1995:171, figure 8; Pimentel 1986:23, figure 59).Thus, the number of the early felines in this group has increased, making it one of the earliest representations of cats associated with monumental architecture (Falcón and Suárez in press). Along these lines, the following sequence has been proposed by Henning Bischof for a series of representations important for the case of Punkurí, and considered to be “pre-Chavín A”; (a) the clay murals of Punkurí (Punkurí Style); (b) The painted clay feline of Punkurí, and the painted felines of Cerro Sechín; (c) the engraved iconography on the stelae at Cerro Sechín (Sechín Style). One must note, nevertheless, that this sequence is more appropriate for classification than for chronological purposes. It has been suggested that the earthen building decorated with two painted felines in the interior of Cerro Sechín was constructed in the twenty-fourth to the twenty-second centuries B.C. while the stone building there, also Preceramic, existed sometime between the nineteenth and eighteenth centuries B.C. It continued in use until the sixteenth to fourteenth centuries B.C. (Bischof 2000:48; Fuchs 1997: 159). If I attempt a correlation between the painted feline of Cerro Sechín and the freestanding sculpted feline of Punkurí, considering them to be stylistically linked, I can propose a chronological position for the latter at about 2100-1800 B.C. In consequence, if the fill which contained the burial offering corresponds to an architectural phase immediately prior to the sculptured feline, it can serve as a temporal Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí framework in which to place the burial offering. These correlations support the observations of Samaniego, who indicated that the three construction phases of Punkurí lack ceramics (Samaniego 2006:38). On the intra-site level, the stylistic affinity between the engraved design of the stone mortar and the representations on the murals called friezes I and II of the earliest Punkurí building has been noted (Bishof 1994:173). These have been assigned to Phase A1 (“fase A1”; VegaCenteno 1999:15, figure 10). Nevertheless, the stylistic characteristics of the hand represented on the Strombus galeatus huayllaquepa of Punkurí relate more to the “naturalistic” style of the freestanding feline (Vega-Centeno’s Phase B1), so that the iconography of the objects from the burial offering context would constitute a group which associates schematic and geometric motifs with the stylized naturalism of Phase A2 of a building which in any case shows articulated, coherent, and continuous architectural modifications.31 As for the hand motif represented by itself, a stone sculpture found at Jaive in the Supe Valley shows the very stylized palms of both hands in which the order of the fingers can be distinguished by their proportions and location beside a round anthropomorphic face. I note that the hand on the Punkurí huayllaquepa shows its back. Nevertheless, the Jaiva stone sculpture may be one of the first engraved, low relief lithic pieces in the central Andes (Falcón 31 On the other hand, it has been proposed that “geometric or schematic conventions are present in the Preceramic as well as in the Early Formative” (“convenciones geométricas o esquematizadas están presentes tanto en el precerámico como en el Formativo Temprano”) and that there were developed figurative resources available as guidelines for the Punkurí Style (Vega-Centeno 1998: 187). I am more in agreement with this position, but think that this occurred a little before the Initial Period or the Formative. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 2006) and may belong to a style of representation earlier than the iconographic repertory of Punkurí. However, this suggestion still needs to be refined. Another example of this motif is found on the stone block associated with Huaca A at Pampa de las Llamas-Moxeque (Burger 1989; Pozorski and Pozorski 1988). This hand is more naturalistic than that engraved on the Punkurí huayllaquepa, to the extent that it appears to be the impression of a right hand on the stone, that is to say, the palm is shown. According to its discoverers, this stone, securely associated with Huaca A, is the earliest securely-dated stone carving known in Peru. A wooden door from Huaca A produced an uncorrected 14C date of 1565±70 B.C. (3515±70 B.P. Uga-5462) and is in the mid-range of dates from that site (ibid.). This date and the iconography of the felines which flank the entrance portal of the associated architectural complex, assigned to Chavín A, puts it sometime after Punkurí. Finally, I would like to indicate that until recently the presence of Strombus galeatus huayllaquepas as part of the cult paraphernalia of the end of the Late Archaic had not been documented. Now we have the huayllaquepa from Punkurí and a possible representation of another Strombus galeatus huayllaquepa held by one of the seated personages on a mortar from Lambayeque that is assigned to the same period (Bischof 1995:169, 170, figure 6d). On this object the Strombus is represented as a spiral which has an oblong vertical piercing and which ends by tracing a straight edge, and is serrated with blunt points, which represent the characteristic ribs that naturally form on the dorsal surface of Strombus galeatus and which, although generally smoothed out in order to incise designs, leave clear traces on the lip edge of the mollusc. In consequence, it is now known that this sonorous ritual instrument, abundantly present in the galleries of Chavín de Huántar, had its antecedents at this time. - 122 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Sincere thanks go to Henning Bischof for numerous consultations on the Late Archaic of the central Andes. Likewise, Richard Daggett and Rafael Vega-Centeno have my gratitude for their comments. Finally, I recognize the notable efforts of Lorenzo Samaniego Román for the recovery of Punkurí to the point of converting it into a cultural center and an example to Peruvians, and to the world, of a seminal stage in the development of precolumbian Andean religion. To a great extent, this article is a tribute to his tenacious work. Translation from the Spanish by Monica Barnes REFERENCES CITED Anonymous 1987a Un nuevo hallazgo arqueológico, en la Huaca de Pungurí. El Comercio 28 September, 1933 (Lima). In Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkurí by Richard E. Dagget, Andean Past 1, Appendix, p.137. 1987b Nuevas excavaciones arqueológicas serán practicadas en la próxima quincena en el palacio de “Cerro Blanco”, en Nepeña. El Comercio, 2 October, 1933 (Lima). In Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkurí by Richard E. Daggett, Andean Past 1, Appendix, pp. 138-140. Antúnez de Mayolo, Santiago 1933 Los trabajos arqueológicos en el valle de Nepeña. El Comercio, 15 December (Lima). In Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkurí by Richard E. Daggett, Andean Past 1, Appendix, pp. 155-163. Bischof, Henning 1994 Toward the Definition of Pre- and Early Chavín Art Styles in Peru. Andean Past 4:169-228. 1995 Cerro Sechín y el arte temprano centro-andino. Arqueología de Cerro Sechín 2:157-184. Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú and Fundación Volkswagenwerk-Alemania. 1997 Cerro Blanco, valle de Nepeña, Perú: Un sitio del Horizonte Temprano en emergencia. Archaeologica Andina 2:203-234 (Sociedad Arqueológica Peruano-Alemana, Reiss-Museum Mannheim, Germany). 123 2000 Cronología y cultura en el Formativo centroandino. Estudios Latinoamericanos, 20:41-71 (Warsaw, Poland). Burger, Richard L. 1989 The Pre-Chavin Stone Sculpture of Casma and Pacopampa. Journal of Field Archaeology 16:478485. Carrión Cachot, Rebeca 1948 La Cultura Chavín: Dos nuevas colonias–Kuntur Wasi y Ancón. Revista del Museo Nacional de Antropología y Arqueología 2(1):99-172. Chapdelaine, Claude and Pimentel, Victor 2008 Personaje de alto rango en San Juanito, valle de Santa. In Señores de los reinos de la Luna, edited by Krzysztof Makowski, pp.248-253. Colección Arte y Tesoros del Perú. Lima: Banco de Crédito. Daggett, Richard E. 1987 Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkuri. Andean Past 1:111-132, Appendix, The Tello Material from El Comercio, pp. 133163. 2007 Tello’s “Lost Years”: 1931-1935. Andean Past 8:81-108. Donnan, Christopher B. 1978 Moche Arte of Peru. Los Angeles, California: Museum of Cultural History, University of California. Falcón Huayta, Victor 2006 La litoescultura de Jaiva y las representaciones rupestres preformativas. Arkeos: Revista Electrónica de Arqueología. Pontifica Universidad Católica del Perú. http://mileto.pucp.edu.pe/arkeos/images/docu mentos/articulos/5-art-epar-vfh.pdf (Consulted 25 March 2009). Falcón Huayta, Victor, Rosa Martínez Navarro, and Milano Trejo Huayta 2005 La Huayllaquepa de Punkurí, costa nor-central del Perú. Anales 13:53-74 (Museo de América, Madrid). Falcón Huayta, Victor and Mónica Suárez Ubillús in press El felino en la emergencia de la civilización en los Andes centrales. Crónicas sobre la piedra: Arte rupestre de las Américas, edited by Marcela Sepulveda, Luis Briones, and Juan Chacama. Arica, Chile: Ediciones Universidad de Tarapacá. Fuchs, Peter R. 1997 Nuevos datos arqueométricos para la historia de la ocupación de Cerro Sechín: Período lítico al Formativo. Archaeologica Peruana 2:145-161. Kan, Michael 1972 The Feline Motif in Northern Peru. In The Cult of the Feline: A Conference in Pre-Columbian Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí Iconography, October 31st and November 1st, 1970, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson, pp. 69-90. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks. Kaulicke, Peter 1994 Los orígenes de la civilización Andina 1. Lima: Editorial Brasa, S.A. Larco Hoyle, Rafael 2001 [1938] Los Mochicas, Volume 1. Museo Arqueológico Rafael Larco Herrera. Lima: Fundación Telefónica. Pimentel, Víctor 1986 Petroglífos en el valle medio y bajo de Jequetepeque, norte del Perú. Kommission für Allgemeine und Vergleichende Archäologie des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Bonn (KAVA) 31. Pozorski, Thomas and Shelia Pozorski 1988 An Early Stone Carving from Pampa de las Llamas-Moxeke, Casma Valley, Peru. Journal of Field Archaeology 15:114-119. Proulx, Donald 1973 Archaeological Investigations in the Nepeña Valley, Peru. Research Reports 13, Department of Anthropology, University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Rivadeneira Giuria, Víctor and María del Carmen Piccone-Saponata 1998 La malacología y su aporte a los estudios arqueológicos. Boletín de Lima 113:27-32. Sandweiss, Daniel H. and María del Carmen Rodríguez 1991 Moluscos marinos en la prehistoria peruana: Breve ensayo. Boletín de Lima 75:55-63. Samaniego, Lorenzo 1992 Arte mural de Punkurí: Aproximación. Pacífico: Revista de Ciencias Sociales 1:11-37 (Chimbote, Perú). 1995 La Escultura del Edificio Central de Cerro Sechín. Arqueología de Cerro Sechín., Volume 2:1944. Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú and Fundación Volkswagenwerk-Alemania. 2006 Punkurí: Proyecto Cultural, Homenaje al Centenario del Distrito de Chimbote. Special edition of Revista del Centro de Conservación del Patrimonio Cultural–OCEUPS–UNS (Nuevo Chimbote: Perú: Universidad Nacional del Santa) 8(17). Tello, Julio C. 1933 Las ruinas del valle de Nepeña. El Comercio, 6 October (Lima). In Daggett, Richard E., Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkurí, Andean Past 1, Appendix, pp. 144-148. 1943 Discovery of the Chavin Culture in Peru. American Antiquity 9(1):135-160. 1960 Chavín: Cultura matriz de la civilización andina. Lima: UNMSM. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 2005 Arqueología del Valle de Nepeña: Excavaciones en Cerro Blanco y Punkurí. Cuadernos de Investigación del Archivo Tello 4. Lima: Museo de Arqueología y Antropología de la Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Vega-Centeno, Rafael 1998 Patrones convencionales en el arte figurativo del Formativo temprano en la costa norte de los Andes Centrales. Bulletin de l’Institut Français des Études Andines 27(2):183-211. 1999 Punkurí en el contexto del Formativo temprano de la costa nor-central del Perú. Gaceta Arqueológica Andina 25:5-21. - 124 125 - Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí Figure 1: Map showing the location of Punkurí. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 126 Figure 2: Punkurí, north facade of the monument today. Figure 3: The clearing of Platforms 2 and 3 of the north facade of Punkurí in progress. Note the central staircase which gives access to Platform 2 (photograph courtesy of the Tello Archive of the MNAAHP, negative 109 AT/617). 127 - Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí Figure 4: Left hand engraved on the dorsal side of the Punkurí huayllaquepa. Figure 5: Schematic drawing of the sequence of deposition of the Punkurí burial offering. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 6: The Punkurí huayllaquepa during its restoration. Figure 7: The Punkurí huayllaquepa after its restoration. - 128 129 - Falcón Huayta: Reconstruction at Punkurí Figure 8: The Punkurí mortar, pestle, and the Suchimán mortar (Tello 2005, CD included, file: “Anexo fotogáfico, F2_Punkurí, Foto 52-119). Figure 9: Staircase that leads to the upper part of Platform 2 at Punkurí. Note the poor state of the staircase and the fill that covers Platform 3. The figure is Arturo Jiménez Borja on a visit to the site in 1971 (photography courtesy of Lorenzo Samaniego Román, Coordinador General, Centro de Conservación del Patrimonio Cultural, Universidad Nacional del Santa). AN ANALYSIS OF THE ISABELITA ROCK ENGRAVING AND ITS ARCHAEOLOGICAL CONTEXT, CALLEJÓN DE HUAYLAS, PERU VÍCTOR MANUEL PONTE ROSALINO University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee INTRODUCTION Isabelita is the name of an impressive Early Horizon rock engraving in Peru’s Callejón de Huaylas. It was discovered in 1999 at the Amá II site (Pan 5-49) while I was conducting an archaeological study in the vicinity of the modern Pierina Gold Mine (Ponte 2005:247, 1999b). The rock stood in the upper part, or Cotojirca neighborhood, of the village of Mareniyoc in the Jangas district, Huaraz province, Ancash region (Figures 1, 2, 12-15). Its iconography consists of a human being holding a trophy head, accompanied by four animals (Figures 1, 3). In modern Ancash Quechua amá means “darkness” but is also a prohibitive grammatical element more or less equivalent to the English word “don’t”. In this context it most likely refers to the shadows formed by large boulders because Isabelita, in its original placement, was near funerary chambers constructed in the shelter of overhanging rocks (Figures 4-10).1 However, in the Callejón de Huaylas, amá may be derived from amay (the Spanish plural is amayes), found in seventeenth century court trials and official inspection tours from Cajatambo relating to idolatry (Duviols 2003:178, 186). Here it seems to mean a mortuary structure. Individual amayes are characterized in the Cajatambo documents 1 Initially Isabelita was the name given to a mapping control point atop a boulder. We later discovered petroglyphs lower down on its flat surface. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 131-175. as “a modo de casilla” (in the form of a little house), as “muy pintado” (heavily painted), and with doors (ibid.:186). An important funeral chamber within a circular structure may have been associated with the Isabelita Rock during the middle and late parts of the Early Horizon (c. 600-100 B.C.). The village of Mareniyoc occupies a large mound composed of the remains of an Early Horizon occupation (Figure 11). For millennia Mareniyoc was a primary center within a locally integrated settlement pattern. This pattern included defensible sites that I believe maintained independent status and economic systems, but shared a powerful religious ideology manifested by Isabelita’s iconography, and present in other areas of the Andes. In this paper I analyze the iconography of the Isabelita Rock, establishing its relative chronology and meaning through comparisons with other Early Horizon sculptures. An analysis of the engraving must center on the role and purpose of religion as an institution, as well on its sociopolitical impact within the community. The location of the Isabelita Rock in a space where mortuary rituals were performed connects the image to the ceremonial architecture enclosing the nearby Great Stone, another large manmodified boulder. A human burial with offerings was under the Great Stone, within a funerary space constructed with fieldstones (Figures 5-7, 9). This context can be related to the Andean ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) notions of machay and malqui documented for late prehispanic and colonial times (Arriaga 1999 [1621]:21; Doyle 1988; Duviols 2003). The Great Stone constitutes the machay, a Quechua concept of a natural rock shelter or cave suitable for ritual performances. Malqui is the burial, the mummy of the principal ancestor of the local community. Its people may have gathered in the terraced space next to the Mareniyoc mound to venerate it. In the central Andes no ancestor cult has been detected in any context earlier than that associated with the Isabelita Rock. The cult there is probably contemporaneous with the Capilla Style (600-200 B.C.; Table 1) of the Huaricoto site (Figure12; Burger 1985), the nearest Early Horizon site in the Callejón de Huaylas that has been investigated. Although more religious practices and human burials have been detected in the temperate Quechua ecozone2 of Mareniyoc, they belong to later periods, confirming the long tradition of ancestor veneration, especially in the Recuay culture (Table 1) and in later times (Lau 2002; Hernández Príncipe 1923 [1622]). I postulate that Mareniyoc was integrated with other Early Horizon sites in a shared vertical domain extending from the warm floor of the Santa River Valley to the cold puna of the Cordillera Negra (Figures 13, 14). This perceived linkage led me to focus on the development of a local sociopolitical subsystem. I suggest that settlements in different ecological zones participated in a social interaction sphere that was centered in the area where ideology took material form. If ideology is a source of power and can be controlled by the dominant group (De Marrais et al. 1996), the area of Mareniyoc may have been the place where the economic resources and subsistence pattern - 132 were organized through cooperation, trade, and interrelationships with other areas. Even though the primary site is defined only by its magnitude and its connection with the religious and mythical personage represented on the Isabelita Rock, I suggest that during the Early Horizon Cotojirca Phase I (Table 1), the foundation was laid for a regional economic model that was duplicated by later groups without any substantial changes. The local religious tradition was stimulated and influenced by important ceremonial centers like Chavín de Huántar, Pallka in the upper Casma Valley, Cerro Blanco and Punkurí in the Nepeña Valley,3 Pacopampa in the Department of Cajamarca, Puemape and Tembladera on the north coast (Figure 12, Table 1), and Paracas on the south coast. In other words, the Chavín religious cult spread. The development and management of similar ceremonial practices, including the representation of common symbols, support arguments for the interaction of the Callejón de Huaylas with much of the rest of the Andes. Before explaining the archaeological context and the interconnection of sites in detail, I will outline the Early Horizon in the Callejón de Huaylas. THE AREA OF STUDY The Callejón de Huaylas is a large intermontane valley delineated by two mountain ranges. To the west is the Cordillera Negra. To the east is the Cordillera Blanca (Figure 13). The latter is the highest range of snow capped mountains and glacial lakes in the Central Andes. Within it are thirty peaks higher than 6000 meters. It also contains the Huascarán National Park, one of Peru’s important nature 3 2 For a definition of the Quechua ecozone see “The Area of Study” below. For discussions of Punkurí in Andean Past see Bischof (1994):172-173, figures 2,3, 12, 14c, 31 and Falcón, this volume, pp. 109-129. For Cerro Blanco and Punkurí see Daggett (1987). 133 preserves, and the goal of thousands of mountain climbers every year. The perennial Santa River flows from the Cordillera Blanca and through the Callejón de Huaylas. It is, by volume, the largest Peruvian river that empties into the Pacific Ocean (Wilson 1988:32). The Callejón de Huaylas was one of the centers of plant domestication in the central Andes. Evidence from Guitarrero Cave has shown that maize and beans were important staple foods in the region and Phaseolus may have been consumed there since the beginning of the third millennium B.C. (Kaplan and Lynch 1999:265). The study area discussed in this paper is in the eastern foothills of the Cordillera Negra. The study area includes four ecological zones (Figure 14): (1) The floor of the Callejón de Huaylas (at an average elevation of 2800 masl) is heavily cultivated, especially to the north of Jangas and Taricá. Currently, fruits and flowers are grown for export. Tree crops such as Pacay, avocado, and lucuma may have been gathered there by early societies. The existence of a modern community of potters in the small town of Taricá has some implications for past practices. (2) The Quebrada Cuncashca/Llancash system (average elevation 3615 masl; Figure 14) is a natural pass to the puna, and to the western slopes of the Cordillera Negra and beyond to the coast. It has perennial water and includes the best agricultural land. (3) The Quechua ecozone (average elevation 3500 masl) is where maize, tubers (oca, olluco [Ullucus tuberosus], potatoes) and some trees are grown. There is evidence of agricultural terraces and irrigation canals. However, the area does not offer much space for cultivation and the soil is not rich in nutrients. Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving (4) Puna pastureland (average elevation 4000 masl) consists of relatively flat grasslands dominated by ichu and used today, as in the past, for maintaining herds. The ecological zones are integrated by an ancient road that connects archaeological sites belonging to several periods (Figure 14). The road extends from Jangas (2800 masl) on the Santa Valley floor, to Cuncashca on the puna (4000 masl). Walking from Jangas to Mareniyoc in the Quechua ecozone at 3050 masl can be accomplished in about two hours. From there it takes another two hours to reach Cuncashca. Control of these various ecological zones may have been maintained in the past, as first postulated for the Andes by John V. Murra (1975:6270). The major center was the Mareniyoc site. Its position in the middle of the vertical ecological zones permitted economic control by the local elite and the consumption of the products of all four zones. THE EARLY HORIZON IN THE CALLEJÓN DE HUAYLAS During the time when the Isabelita Rock engraving may have been created, important ceremonial centers functioned in the Callejón de Huaylas. One of them is the temple of Huaricoto (Figure 12), a large mound where the oldest ceremonial architecture dates to the Preceramic Period. It served as the setting for ritual practices related to the Kotosh Religious Tradition (Burger 1992:42, 45, 49-50). Rites were performed in small public buildings, circular in plan. Ceremonies included the incineration of offerings in central stone-lined fire pits. Another ritual construction, associated in the Callejón with the Capilla Style, was a circular plaza. This suggests that the sunken plaza of Chavín de Huántar was not necessarily the sole model for Early Horizon religious structures in the Callejón (Burger and Salazar-Burger 1985:131-132, among others). Other contempo- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) raneous public monumental centers also existed in the Callejón and are said to belong to the Chavín Style (Tello 1960:36). They are defined by their magnitude, but have not been sufficiently studied. One such is Pumacayan (3100 masl), a large mound on the southern side of the Santa River, and within the modern city of Huaraz (Figure 12). Incised Black-and-Red Style ceramics, carved slabs, and tenoned heads have been found there, but without contextual data. The Pumacayan building was remodeled repeatedly, specifically in Huarás and Recuay times (Table 1). Long galleries, passageways, and funerary chambers like those at Chavín are hidden under Recuay structures (Tello 1943: 155). Another important center in the Callejón de Huaylas that has public architecture is the Tumshucaico site (2295 masl) on the northern side of the city of Caraz (Figure 12). It shares both its plan and style of masonry with monuments in the Nepeña Valley (see Proulx 1985: plates 15a, 16a, b). However, Bueno (2003:75) has recently studied the site, concluding that there are architectural connections with La Galgada. Bueno dates Tumschucaico to the late Preceramic Period. Both Pumacayan and Tumshucaico were densely occupied by postChavín cultures, including the Inca. It will take additional study to determine whether those sites had a central and articulated role in the diffusion of the Chavín religious cult, or whether they functioned independently in so far as ceremonies are concerned, with religion serving to congregate people. Within the Callejón de Huaylas there must exist many other sites which were occupied during the Early Horizon or prior to it. One problem in identifying them is that much of their architecture was buried and/or re-utilized during later occupations. Chupacoto (Figure 12), another small Early Horizon mound, was mentioned by Thompson (1962). He docu- - 134 mented two carved stones in a clear Sechín Style dated to the Initial Period by comparisons. However, there is no direct evidence linking the site and these carved stones found in isolation and without context. The existence of any preChavín occupation will be clarified with future findings of Initial Period sites in the Cordillera Negra. I predict that these will contain cultural elements from the coastal valleys. North of the Santa River in Corongo province, a team headed by Terada (Terada 1975, 1980; Morris 1981:961) excavated the La Pampa site (Figure 12), a platform mound complex with retention walls and non-domestic rooms from the Initial Period Yesopampa Phase (Table 1). Yesopampa Style ceramics have some affinities with the Initial Period Pandanche Style ceramic assemblages from the Cajamarca region, while the artifacts of the successive occupation, the La Pampa Period (Table 1), have greater affinities with Chavín Style. A stone lintel with Chavín feline-serpent attributes probably belongs to this period (670-540 B.C.). It seems that at the same time, different religious practices existed in the highlands, with some autonomy expressed in the ceremonies performed. Likewise, the economic organization of highland communities reflected territorial differences. Nevertheless, the essence and requirements of ritual forged inter-regional connections through the procurement of goods and raw materials both from the coast and from the eastern tropical forest. In the Marcara River Valley Gary Vescelius recorded about 125 sites (Burger and Lynch 1987:1; Lynch 1970:12). Among them, the Ucush Punta site yielded Chavinoid artifact types such as incised and rocker stamped sherds (ibid.). In the same area Gero (1992) excavated the site of Queyash Alto, a ridge-top site at the confluence of the Marcara and Santa Rivers. Although it belongs to the Early Intermediate 135 Period, its earliest levels are related to the Huarás White-on-Red Style ceramics (200 B.C.A.D. 250; Gero 1991:132). The site plan of Queyash Alto features two small stone mounds, each longer than it is wide, at the extremities of the ridge. A linear arrangement of rectilinear rooms and courtyards fills the entire ridge. Terraces follow the contours of the long east and west sides of the ridge (Gero 1991:130, 2001:19-20, figure 2, left).The layout of this site is similar to those of Chonta Ranra Punta and Maquellouan Punta, both sites in the Mareniyoc area that are described below (Figure 13). Those sites have produced Early Horizon and Huarás White-on-Red Style ceramics. Marcum, near the city of Huaraz (Figure 13), is another site with the same sort of plan. It also has yielded middle and late Early Horizon sherds. MARENIYOC AREA The modern village of Mareniyoc stands on an artificial mound consisting of deep cultural deposits. The site measures 1200 by 800 meters. The mound is a series of stepped platforms and large habitation areas where people carried out ceremonial and domestic activities, as indicated by the thick black midden deposits shown in profiles (Figure 11). Judging from artifacts disturbed by modern house construction and remodeling, Mareniyoc’s first occupation probably occurred during the Early Horizon. A common Recuay settlement pattern in the Callejón de Huaylas and in the Nepeña Valley (Ponte 2000:223; Proulx 1985:285) is the reoccupation of Early Horizon villages by modifying their scattered structures surrounding a high central mound. The mound was the architectural focal point where celebrations took place. The mound is always formed by fill containing artifacts such as sherds, animal bones, lithic instruments, and garbage mixed with earth. This fill, contained by stone blocks, constitutes the mound. The fill could have accumulated during the first occupation of the site during the Early Horizon. Over Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving time, Mareniyoc grew as a local elite population center, but it was also the focus of cyclical ceremonial activities, as was the religious center of Huaricoto (Burger 1993:54). The Mareniyoc area, including the Amá site, has been occupied many times, from the Early Horizon to the Late Horizon. During the Early Intermediate Period (c. 100 to 600 A.D.), Mareniyoc was probably a center for the Recuay population. Recuay funerary structures surround the center in a dispersed pattern. The Amá II site is at an altitude of between 3500 and 3550 masl (Figures 15, 16). A central trail crosses a large ridge with houses and agricultural lands on both sides. The site has a very irregular and abrupt topography that includes boulders used today, as in the past, as rock shelters. The boulders are natural formations that create shadows and dark spaces. The steep slopes of the hill are leveled and contained by retention walls forming terraces. These are said by today’s Mareniyoc farmers to have been built by earlier farmers. The modern terraces are filled with agricultural earth and are divided into segments of land called parcelas. Eucalyptus is grown for its wood. Prehispanic deposits and funerary structures were found in the lees of the big boulders, under approximately 1m of modern fill (Figures 4-7, 9, 10). The prehispanic terraces were constructed in relation to the big boulders, following the contours of the slope (Figures 6, 810). They were poorly preserved, with walls standing only to a height of about 0.7m. EXCAVATIONS AT THE AMÁ II SITE (COTOJIRCA PHASE I) For purposes of excavation, the site was divided into sectors according to local agricultural plots and terrace divisions (Figure 6). This was useful for determining the spatial distribution of features and for assessing differences between ceremonial and funerary spaces as constructed and used during the Cotojirca I ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Phase (755-170 B.C.) of the Early Horizon and the Cotojirca II-III Phases of the Early Intermediate Period (Table 1). Archaeological excavations were completed on three levels of modern terraces consisting of pirca (unmortared stone walls), irrigation channels, and planting surfaces (Figures 2, 4, 6-10). Today these are also used as household dumps. The area studied was limited to the north side of the Jangas-Pierina road. Five separate Cotojirca I Phase contexts were identified: (1) the Isabelita Rock (Figures 1-3, 8); (2) the ceremonial structure surrounding the Great Stone (Figures 4-7, 9); (3) the Amá II Tomb E (Figures 4-7, 9); (4) the Amá II Tomb R or offerings (Figure 6); and (5) an area of domestic refuse containing Early Horizon artifacts (Context 49IV30; Figure 6). Isabelita Rock The Isabelita Rock depicts a human figure and animals engraved with a hard and sharp instrument on the flat surface of the boulder (Figures 1-3). The rock is andesite, according to an identification made by geologists of the Pierina Mine (personal communication, Enrique Garay, June 1998). It measures 3.0 by 2.5 meters and the entire rock weighs approximately 8 tonnes. This was estimated by the relation of density and weight (according to the geologists). It was probably in its original position when found, laid horizontally with the flat face bearing the petroglyph forming a table-like plane (Figure 2). The rock was threatened by construction of a road to the Pierina Mine. Therefore, this huge petroglyph was relocated to the lithic park of the Regional Archaeological Museum of Huaraz. Now it stands vertically, providing a greater visual impact to the public. The incised boulder was between adobe houses (Figures 2, 6, 8). The Great Stone (see below) is 20 m to the east (Figures 4-7, 9). The principal design on Isabelita is a dancing man carrying a - 136 human trophy head in his left hand (Figures 1, 3). The full figure human is depicted in frontal position, while the animals, shown in profile, appear to the right of the principal image (from the viewer’s perspective). The animals represented are a reptile, a deer or fox, a snake, and some sort of bird. The engraved man has rectangular eyes, a triangular nose, and an open mouth (Figure 3a). The rectangular ears are similar to those in Sechín Style sculpture, although Tello (1960: figure 79) also found a stone slab with a frontal human face resembling the Isabelita man at Qaucho, a site near Chavín de Huántar. On the top of the Isabelita human figure’s head there are four long and symmetrical appendages that seem to make up a kind of ornament. These could be interpreted as simplified snakes in agreement with John Rowe’s comparison of hair to snakes (1970:78). In the Paracas pottery of Ica a specimen with “head appendages” also exists, but in that image there are only two long appendages. On the Isabelita Rock, the human figure’s left arm is exaggeratedly long, and only three fingers are shown holding a trophy head by its hair. The hair is represented by four ovoid incisions, a convention that has been observed in the iconography of Cerro Sechín (e.g. Tello 1956: figures 83-84). The trophy head is circular with round eyes, and has a close relationship to the Chavín trophy heads seriated by Peter Roe (1974:17). The main figure’s right arm is less visible because of the natural fractures of the boulder and the stepped flat surface of the rock surface into which the main figure’s right side is carved. The Isabelita man’s chest is rectangular in form and ends in a rectangular belt decorated with cross-hatching. There are parallels to this belt in the corpus of Sechín stone sculpture, but the belt decoration per se does not exist within Sechín’s “Sacrificial procession” (Bischof 1994:176). The geometric figures on the belt have similarities to the incised resin-painted designs on bowls and cups from Phase 9 of the 137 Paracas pottery of Ica (Menzel et al. 1964: figure 53e, f, g, I, k). Roe (1974:18) also showed a “cross-hatched decoration” as feature 147 from the EF Period of John Rowe’s Chavín seriation that is exactly the same design as that of the Isabelita man’s belt. There is a slight bending at the knees of the Isabelita man. The feet are shown facing in different directions, giving the impression of movement. I interpret this position as representing dancing. The profile of a reptile or serpent head is above the true left shoulder of the human figure (Figure 3b). It has a round eye with an incised central dot. Two ovoid bands that extend from each corner of the eye may represent tears. There are many parallels to this kind of eye, in a variety of media including clay sculpture (Tello 1960:2 29), clay mural art (Pozorski and Pozorski 1986: figure 5), engraved bones (Bischof 1994: figures 18, 27a; Tello 1956: figures 19, 22) and stone slabs (Burger 1992: figure 184; Tello 1960: figures 62, 72, 74). It is found on monuments in the Casma Valley and in the Chavín de Huántar region. These two areas seem to have shared a common tradition. Other examples of eyes with similar bands have been reported on Cupisnique Style bottles carved in the form of serpents (Burger and Salazar-Burger 2000: figure 39) and on modeled ceramic vessels with Cupisnique associations (Donnan 1992: figure 26). Bischof calls this a “bi-corned eye” (1994:225). Roe called the same iconographic motif a “double wing eye” (1974: 18), and Tello (1956:49) related it to the wrinkles of felines and caymans, an interpretation that seems salient to an understanding of the meaning of this motif. I will call the mouth of the cayman head “saw-toothed, with a slightly raised snout”. The reptile mouth is depicted as similar to a cat’s mouth in an association interpreted by Rowe as a sign of supernatural power (1970:81). This attribute is shared with the being engraved in a bone from the Pallka temple (Tello 1956: figure 22). There is a strong Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving similarity between the reptile head on the Isabelita Rock and the Pallka bone representation, although the former has been simplified. Another similarity is found in the clay frieze from Garagay, an Early Horizon temple within metropolitan Lima. Here a cross-hatched band encircles the head of a fanged supernatural being (Burger 1992: figures 43-44). A second animal, almost completely depicted in profile, is in the upper right of the flat boulder (viewer’s perspective). This could represent a deer or a fox with angular legs, a long snout, and erect ear(s) (Figure 3c). Its mouth is open, showing serrated teeth less visible than those of the reptile. A similar animal, also with erect ears, is depicted on a carved slab adorning the New Temple of Chavín de Huántar and was interpreted as a viscacha (Burger 1992: figure 184). A third animal on the Isabelita Rock is a bird with extended wings and a long beak (Figures 1, 3d). It most closely resembles some type of seashore bird. Punctation indicates an eye and the tail feathers are rendered with a simple zigzag line. There are many examples of birds in the iconography of the Early Horizon but they are usually stylized versions of eagles and falcons. The simple design of the bird on the Isabelita Rock is more similar to bird representations on Paracas Phase 10 artifacts from Ica (cf. Menzel et al. 1964: figure 61c). The fourth animal engraved on the Isabelita Rock is a simplified snake which appears in the bottom right corner (from the viewer’s perspective) beneath the bird. The snake is drawn in profile with a triangular head and curved body. The simplicity of snake representations was used by Peter Roe (1974) to support John Rowe’s seriation of the Chavín stone sculpture. When seen in its full cultural context, the principal figure, a dancing man carrying a trophy ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) and accompanied by animals, constitutes an important key to understanding the religion and ritual related to mythical beings that spread during the last part of the Early Horizon. Ceremonial Structure around the Great Stone Around the Great Stone there was an almost circular masonry ceremonial structure (Figures 4-7, 9). A single course of masonry and a long, rather weak retaining wall connect this feature to the Isabelita Rock which is at roughly the same elevation. Objects were arranged in a cultural deposit at the Great Stone. In excavations of the platform, the topmost strata contained modern utilitarian ceramics manufactured in Taricá, a town of potters on the Santa Valley floor (Figure 14). These ceramics were found mixed with prehispanic artifacts. The frequency of the latter increased with depth. An artificial fill of stones and ceramic fragments that covered an earlier structure characterized the second stratum. This earlier feature was a double-faced wall, 0.65 m wide by 0.50 m high. It formed an ovoid enclosure around the large stone. This irregular stone seems to have been the center of ceremonial performance. It formed a rectangular shelter aligned to the north within which a bundle of human bones was found. This feature is called the Amá II Tomb E. The orientation of the Great Stone is towards the snowy peaks of the Cordillera Blanca and it defines an almost direct line to Huascarán which, with a summit at 6768 masl, is the highest peak in the Cordillera Blanca. The ovoid structure around the Great Stone created an inner offering space where we found two groups of poorly preserved deer and camelid bones. On the southern side we uncovered a small bowl with an exterior red slip surface and flat base. Several blue beads were left inside of this as an offering (Figure 17). On the western side, two little structures shaped as altars were each created by four rock slabs, with the open - 138 side facing NNW. Altars imply the idea of arranging objects in a ritual setting. One altar supported two crossed long bones of a young deer and seashells of Mesodesma donacium, while another smaller one contained a bundle of young camelid bones, not arranged in any particular order. Bones were placed into the structure, on top of the middle slab. Amá II Tomb E The chamber below the Great Stone was 0.85 m high and 2.15 m long. The funerary space was delimited by a wall of undressed field stones built against the Great Stone (Figures 47, 9). The space contained the incomplete remains of an adult. The skeleton was in an extended position with the head to the south and the feet to the north. The bones were badly preserved because of the acidity and humidity of the soil. Only a few fragments of the skull, a femur, and metatarsals were recovered. There were several items associated with the burial, including guinea pigs placed in a spondylus shell, 81 chrysocolla beads (Figure 17), and 136 spondylus beads. Near the feet of the skeleton the presence of ash indicates that ritual burning may have taken place. We found ceramic offerings here. These consist of fragments of two bottles, one jar, and three bowls. We also found two 17 cm long copper pins (ticpis in Ancash Quechua; for the metallurgical analysis of the pins see Ponte 1999a: chart 4). One bottle was almost completely restored. It is dark gray with a round body and a long neck with an everted rim (Figure 18). The other was red, and only the long tubular neck (7cm) was recovered. The gray bottle was 17cm tall and is similar to a bottle found in a Tomb (GTm4) from the Kunturwasi site in Cajamarca assigned to the Copa Phase, 380-200 BC (Table 1; Onuki 1997: 112, figure 53), although the latter has a flat base and a thickened external rim. There is some resemblance between the 139 bottles found in the Amá II Tomb E and bottles from the Huaricoto site (Figure 12), which dates to the Early Capilla Phase (Burger 1985: figure 22). These comparisons suggest an Early Horizon date for the tomb. Significantly, similarities to the late Initial Period are less marked. There is also a slight difference between the Cotojirca I Phase bottles with round bases and the flatbased bottles registered by Tello (1956: figure10c) from the Pallka temple in the middle Casma Valley (Figure 12). Some relationship with the Cupisnique ceramic assemblages can be suggested because of the long tubular necks (Tellenbach 1986: plates 131,4; 132,2). The bowls from the Amá II Tomb E are 16 cm in diameter and 6 cm tall with divergent sides (Figures 19-20). Both internal and external surfaces have orange-to-light-brown burnished surfaces. One of them is decorated with darkred horizontal bands. Red-on-Orange Style ceramics similar to the bowls found in the Amá II Tomb E have been found at the Pacopampa site in the Cajamarca Department (Figure 12). Daniel Morales has assigned these to the Capilla Expansiva Phase (1998:119; Table 1). This local Early Horizon ceramic phase is roughly coeval with the Copa and Early Capilla Phases. If the Tomb E construction can be dated by its associated ceramics, then, given its proximity to the Isabelita Rock, a similar date may be extended to the rock art itself (Ponte 2005:249). Amá II Tomb R Digging into a modern terrace we uncovered a large rock about 1.05 m below the surface. To call this a tomb may be over-interpreting the feature. I suggest that human bones, now poorly preserved, were left as part of ritual offerings. Although this feature was recorded as Amá II R, it could have been associated with Context 49IV30 (see below) because it was in the same stratum and the components were similar. In the lee of this large rock were fragments of a Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving human skull and two bowls (Figures 21, 22). The latter were useful in further clarifying the diffusion of ceramic styles. One, an open bowl, has 4 mm horizontal incisions in the exterior, repeated around the vessel (Figure 21). This semi-hemispheric bowl is 9 cm high. Incised lines were colored by orange pigment, as was its flat base, while the rest of the surface has a red polished treatment. An identical example found in the Pallka Temple in the Casma Valley (Figure 12) has been illustrated by Tello (1956: figure 11y). The other bowl from the Amá II R context is short and globular, with white wavy band designs on the upper part of a red polished surface (Figure 22). This can be identified as an example of Huarás White-on-Red. This style was defined primarily by Bennett (1944:75) from materials at Willcawain and Chavín de Huántar. Recently Lau (2004:181, figure 2) has analyzed a new set of radiocarbon dates for the Huarás White-on-Red Style and suggests that this style was in use between 400 and 100 B.C. Lau assigns the Huarás Style to the early part of the Recuay tradition, while other archaeologists (Ponte 2000:223; Wilson 1988:295) define Huarás as a late Early Horizon and early Early Intermediate Period culture with socioeconomic relations of varying intensities, and probable interregional warfare. Whether the Huarás Style is a reflection of a social group that later produced the totally different ceramics in the Recuay Style, or was a distinct group that vanished at some point in time remains a subject for discussion. However, it is clear that the Huarás Style existed during the decline of Chavín de Huántar and the rise of Recuay. Looking at the Amá II R Context with the new radiocarbon data in mind, it appears not incongruent that two different styles form part of the same deposit. Both styles shared the same territory and probably overlapped in time. Both are found above Chavín components. Archaeologists (Burger 1985:125, 1992:165; Lumbreras ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1993:314) have confirmed the Huarás Red-onWhite Style’s position immediately over Janabarriu Phase (390-200 B.C.; Table 1) strata, but in some cases it has been found to be contemporaneous with the Janabarriu Phase (Burger 1992: 228). Domestic structures that yielded Huarás White-on-Red Style ceramics spread over the Circular Plaza building of the Old Temple of Chavín de Huántar. There are many differences between the Chavín architectural styles and those of the Huarás culture. The quality of Huarás structures is poor and their masonry is of a different type from that of the temple. The White-on-Red Style) has been identified in several regions of the Andes, always above Early Horizon levels. It existed during the probable rise of interregional warfare and interregional socioeconomic relations of varying intensities (Wilson 1988:295). Domestic Refuse Area with Artifacts: Context 49IV30 A retention wall running east-west supported a platform near the Isabelita Rock into which a 3 m by 1 m excavation unit was dug. Within Strata 2, Context 49IV30 was isolated from the rest of the excavation unit (Figure 6). This context consists of a 30 cm deposit of loose silty clay soil with abundant mid-size gravel (5-8 cm). This is a cultural fill, as is indicated by the great quantity of diagnostic ceramic sherds found mixed with the soil. Bones from an adult and an infant were also found in the refuse area, along with neckless ollas, shallow bowls, and open bowls (Figures 23-27). The open bowls are hemispherical and have flattened rims. Surface treatment consists of burnished patterns and circular stamped impressions made by a tubular instrument (6-7 mm average; Figure 25). The impressed portions are in the upper part of the vessels, and the impressions are arranged in horizontal rows. Similar bowls were found in the - 140 Nepeña Valley by Donald Proulx (1985:325, plate1A), and correspond to the Early Chavinoid Phase. Tello encountered Chavín ceramics with incised decoration or stamped circles in the subsoil of buildings A, E, and test pit 1 in the Chavín de Huántar temple complex (1960: figure 151) and at the Pallka temple (1956: figures 161, 4, u). Carinated bowls with red slip burnishing were also identified (ibid.: figure 15b). Richard Burger (1998:424, figure 333) found the equivalent in the Janabarriu Phase of the Chavín de Huántar settlement. A small group of bowls with wide red bands decorating the rim and the upper part of the vessel are among the recovered materials from this context at Amá II (Figures 23d, 24). There are numerous brown ollas and gray globe-shaped neckless ollas with incurving rims found in the refuse area. One fragment has red pigment along the rim, while the body of this sherd is a natural orange clay color and has a fine incised diagonal punctated decoration that may have been made with a cactus spine. This fragment was found beside the Isabelita Rock. Burger encountered a similar style of decoration in the Chakinani Phase (460-390 B.C.; Table 1) ceramics found in the presently occupied town of Chavín de Huántar (Burger 1998:407, figure 229). Tello illustrated a similar specimen which he assigned to the Chavín ceramic sequence (1960: figure 159b). These parallels corroborate the Early Horizon date of the Isabelita Rock. Complementary to the aforementioned styles are short-necked ollas with everted rims, burnished red surfaces, and decorated olla and jar body fragments with parallel red lines on a yellowish brown polished surface. Finally, one eroded rim with small punctated decoration in a double row (Figure 25c) can be compared with the late Initial Period Urabarriu Phase of Chavín de Huántar that is associated with the Old Temple (Table 1; Burger 1998: figure 137). 141 DEVELOPMENT OF THE LOCAL SUBSYSTEM (COTOJIRCA PHASE I) As mentioned above, a prehispanic road connected Mareniyoc, a major Early Horizon local sociopolitical center, with other contemporaneous sites. These include valley bottom settlements as well as sites in the puna. Here I discuss two puna settlements, Chonta Ranra Punta and Maquellouan Punta. I then describe Urpay Coto, a site located at the valley bottom of the Callejón de Huaylas and Quitapampa C (Table 1, Figure 13), a Recuay funerary chamber in the upper part of the Cotojirca neighborhood of Mareniyoc. Chonta Ranra Punta Within the steppe environment of the puna a fortified site, Chonta Ranra Punta (PAn 5-1; 4291 masl) stands at the top of the hill of the same name (Figure 28). A 2 m wide perimeter wall surrounds the site. Chonta is divided into three sectors: a natural rocky elevation on the north, an intermediate flat open area where storage rooms were built, and a rectangular low platform with residential rooms. Although excavations in the rectilineal-to-apsidal rooms did not uncover plant remains or artifacts, these rooms were probably used for the deposit of food products. The isolation of the area, the consecutive linear pattern of structures, the cold environment which naturally preserves food, and the necessity of foodstuffs for the people who remained in the site support this interpretation. The residential area measured 27 m by 31 m and was delineated by a low, square platform supporting a rectangular grid comprised of four rooms, each 2 m by 3 m in plan, plus a trapezoidal structure standing alone and an apsidal room attached to the platform wall. The rooms are constructed of dressed stone masonry. Test pits in one of the rooms revealed scattered ceramics associated with charcoal. Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving The diagnostic ceramics recovered are fine open bowls with red polished slip on both surfaces. They are related to the Early Horizon styles of the Nepeña (Proulx 1985:341, plate 9B), Casma, and Santa Valleys. In spite of the small number of artifacts found, I suggest that domestic activities took place in these rooms. A radiocarbon date obtained from the charcoal found in the excavated room produced a calibrated date range between 390-210 B.C. (Table 2). No artifacts associated with warfare were found. The lithic inventory is composed of only three projectile points recovered from excavations and two polished points collected from the surface. Point 109 (60 mm at maximum dimension) was found in the room and was associated with ceramics and charcoal. Point 108/119 (41 mm at maximum dimension) comes from one of the probable storage structures. Malpass (1983: figure 43) recorded similar points from Casma sites associated with ceramics. Two D-shaped structures added to the northeast platform wall may have restricted access to the rooms. The position of this site had strategic advantages because from here it is possible to control the movement of people from the western coastal valleys to the Callejón de Huaylas. Also, the site is near the natural water divide of the Cordillera Negra, between the Santa Valley to the east and the highland puna elevations to the west. Maquellouan Punta At the southern edge of the Quebrada Cuncashca, 200 m below Chonta Ranra, is another hilltop site, Maquellouan Punta (PAn 5-4). This had a different function, but shared aspects of site planning with Chonta Ranra Punta. Maquellouan Punta was built along the slope and top of a limestone rock formation at 4118 masl. Its location, with a good view of the Callejón de Huaylas, could have been a factor in choosing this place for settlement. Maquellouan was ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) connected to the Santa Valley floor by a prehistoric road (Figure 14). The occupants lived on terraces, and the summit was used for ceremonial activities. The site plan shows an artificial platform with complex architecture, a central plaza with a rectangular room, and a northern platform based on a natural mound that supports a residential sector (Figure 29). The plan of Maquellouan Punta shares some common features with that of Chonta Ranra Punta. However, while Chonta Ranra Punta is bigger, Maquellouan contains much denser archaeological deposits. Retention walls were used at this site because of its very steep cliff, especially on its northern and southern sides. The rectangular room built in the plaza measures approximately 13 m x 4 m and yielded information about ceremonial practices. Sixty-seven percent of the tools made from faunal parts that were recovered in the Pierina area have been found at the Maquellouan Punta site. Thirty-two percent of the artifacts made from faunal parts found there were recovered from the rectangular structure. The most common tools are made of camelid bones or taruka (the northern Andean deer, Hippocamelus antisensis) antlers used as gravers and for softpressure lithic flaking. Eleven projectile points, six of black chert, four of fine shale, and one of a porphyritic igneous rock (point 400-7) were also found with minimal indication of flaking (Grimaldo 1999:216). In general these projectile points share similarities with those from the Chonta Ranra site. The igneous point has unique features including ferro-magnesium crystals, a rectilinear distal base, and larger size (64 mm long and 23 mm wide) compared to the shale points. The shale and chert points have polished surfaces, beveled edges, and flat sections (points 400-6 and 426). Similar points were found in the debris of buildings A, E, and F at Chavín de Huántar and were associated with Recuay ceramics (Tello 1960: figure 142). Ground stone points seem to be found above - 142 triangular black chert points in excavation contexts. Most of the ground stone points were collected on the surface, except point 466 which was associated with a biface. Point 400-2 can be compared with Lynch’s Lampas Type 16 (Lynch 1980: figure 9.3, r). Cutting tools such as coarse denticulate implements, or scrapers (n=433), a uniface (lithic 400-5), and utilized flakes complete the lithic inventory. A large number of Early Horizon ceramics were found here (Figures 30, 31), as well as deer and camelid bones. A silver pin was found in the second patio next to the northern platform. This item of personal adornment, as well as an incised deer bone and fine ceramics, tells us something about the social organization of the people who lived at the Maquellouan site. A three meter square excavation pit (Unit A) placed perpendicular to the thick wall that dissects Platform I yielded information about the constant remodeling and construction at Maquellouan. The foundation of Platform I was a series of large, cut stones with a loose dirt and refuse fill between them. Considerable labor was necessary to build such platforms because of the two meter deep fill and the structure’s many remodelings. At about 30 to 40 cm below the ground surface of the artificial platform I encountered a circular structure corresponding to the late Cotojirca V (A.D. 1200-1400) occupation of Maquellouan Punta. This was, perhaps, a domestic structure. Ceramic fragments dispersed throughout the site are associated with the Cotojirca Phase V. Below this was an Early Horizon structure. The lower structure clearly forms a circular room. Its masonry is elaborate with carefully chosen cut stones arranged over a limestone calcite soil associated with the core Early Horizon occupation of the site. The structure is related to the Janabarriu Style and to Huarás White-on-Red Style ceramics(Cotojirca I Phase). At the bottom of Unit A was a deposit 143 resting in the small natural hollows in the upper surface of the limestone bedrock. Urpay Coto The Urpay Coto site (PAn 5-39, Figure 32) is on the upper part of a natural hill at 2938 masl. At this altitude the climate is warmer than it is at sites on the puna or suni ecozones.4 The site includes two levels of retention walls that also could have had a defensive function. Rooms and other structures on the top of the hill can barely be seen because they are covered by bushes. However, in the central part of the site excavations uncovered a terrace wall that separated a complex of small structures associated with camelid bones and ceramics (Unit C, Figure 32). Camelid bones consisted of limb parts of one adult alpaca, one adult llama, and two young camelids (Rofes 1999:167). These finds suggest that camelid consumption occurred here. A radiocarbon sample was taken from a ceramic fragment (register number 3924) and yielded a very early date of 1410-1265 B.C. (Table 2). This measurement is problematical. It is possible that the calcitic soil in contact with the ceramic produced a contaminated date. In the central part of the hill, I excavated a 2.20 by 2.90 m rectangular room with high masonry walls. It had a narrow door and a low bench inside. Its function was probably related to habitation, although no domestic features or artifacts were found inside. Most of the archaeological structures of Urpay Coto remain buried and covered with vegetation. Therefore, the map presented here must be regarded as preliminary. Nevertheless, the portion of retaining walls investigated reveals a fortified site where 4 According to the classification of Peruvian geographer Javier Pulgar Vidal, who drew upon indigenous concepts, the suni zone is between 3200 and 4000 meters in elevation in the central Andes (Pulgar 1946:105) and is suitable for the cultivation of tubers and Chenopodium (ibid.:113-118). Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving camelid meat was consumed and where neckless ollas with spouts were used (Figure 33: 3913). The Cotojirca I Phase ceramics are similar to those found at Maquellouan, but compared to the subsequent Cotojirca IV/Ancosh occupation (A.D. 650-950) their presence is minimal at the site. Quitapampa C Test excavations in the terrace 5 m east of Quitapampa C (Pan 5-50), a Recuay funerary chamber in the upper part of the Cotojirca neighborhood, revealed a feature consisting of a small, U-shaped stone structure with a different function from that of the Recuay mortuary structure. It is 1.46 m long and 0.79 m high and was built with rustic masonry of mid-size stones joined with mud mortar. The structure delineated a cist-like chamber filled with silty clay soil to a depth of 0.56 m. Within this soil were small pieces of charcoal and sherds of a neckless olla which show clear indications of having been exposed to fire. The floor of the cist is composed of burnt clay soil 0.06 m thick. A radiocarbon sample was taken from the charcoal deposited on the floor. It yielded a date of 480-230 B.C. (Table 2), which would place it within the Early Horizon. The structure resembled an earthen cooking oven or pachamanca. The utilitarian ollas share some features, including sandy paste, white inclusions, and orange color. Surfaces are greatly eroded. The ollas lack parallels with the Cotojirca Phase I Style. We could not continue excavations in this area because of hostile reactions from the landowner. This zone may contain an Early Horizon component. DISCUSSION, INTERPRETATION, AND CHRONOLOGY Assessing the Cotojirca I Phase The stylistic elements that comprise the Cotojirca I Phase come principally from the ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Amá II Tomb E. The ceramics associated with the burial constitute examples related to the Early Capilla Style (600-400 B.C.). Bowls with Red-on-Orange decoration and divergent sidewalls like that found in context 49N11 are common in the Huaricoto and Early Capilla Styles, but there is a slight difference in the decorative painted band. The same Red-onOrange decoration appears on neckless ollas in the refuse area context 49IV30 and is comparable to the Capilla Expansive Phase of the Pacopampa site dated by Morales (1998:118) at around 400 B.C. From the same refuse context decorations of circular and dash-like punctations confirm the correlation of the Cotojirca Phase I with the Huaricoto Style. Another piece of evidence key to accessing the early chronology of the Cotojirca I Phase comes from the pair of bottles found in the burial. The gray bottle from the Amá II E mortuary context resembles a bottle found in a tomb at the Kuntur Wasi site that corresponds to the Copa Phase (c. 500-250 B.C.). Proulx (1973: plate 1a-c) shows a group of long-necked, single-spout bottles whose origin is in the Nepeña Valley. Because long-necked bottles have not been found in the Callejón de Huaylas, one could argue for an exotic or imported provenance. Generally, long-necked bottles are found at north coast sites within the Cupisnique tradition. Furthermore, the extended position of the human body in the Amá II Tomb E conforms with coastal mortuary customs during the Late Cupisnique (c. 500-200 B.C.; Elera 1994: 248) and with those of the Puerto Moorin Phase (350 B.C. to A.D. 1) at the beginning of the Early Intermediate Period for the Virú Valley (Grieder 1978:51; Wilson 1988:149). A longnecked bottle with modeled and incised decoration depicting a reptile with the same attributes as the reptile from Isabelita Rock has been recovered from an unknown context at the Tembladera site (Pasztory 1998:98). The vessel has post-fired red resin paint and circular - 144 stamped decoration. This amazing example is in The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and has been dated to between 400 and 200 B.C., within the range I have proposed for the Isabelita Rock. An incised broad line bowl found beside the White-on-Red bowl in the Amá II R burial context suggests a longer chronology than has been assumed for the Huarás White-on-Red Style. Lumbreras (1993:417) obtained radiocarbon dates from the temple of Chavín de Huántar from Huarás domestic contexts and burials within a range from 780 to 150 B.C., but all of these dates are uncalibrated. Surprisingly, the Huarás White-on-Red Style is found in association with other styles from the Early Horizon such as the incised bowl from the Amá II R context. Similarities to the incised Amá II R bowl may be found in Proulx’s (1985:198) “Nepeña Broad Lined Incised” type dated to the Early Horizon Chakinani Phase. Circular stamped decoration on rounded bowls has also been found in the refuse deposit context 49IV30. This is a feature consistently associated with the Janabarriu Phase, a late Early Horizon manifestation. Observing the variability of the styles from the 49IV30 context, a chronological gap seems to exist among the artifacts deposited with it, probably caused by disturbance. A more refined classification would distinguish more than one phase. The Isabelita Rock engraving and the whole Amá II site were located in a special place according to a sacred geography. Settlement Pattern The evidence presented for interaction of settlements during the Cotojirca I Phase is deduced from similarities in artifacts, site planning, and dependency on agriculture and pastoralism exploiting a number of vertical ecozones. The sociopolitical organization cen- 145 tralized in Mareniyoc permitted the multiplication of rites and ceremonies at other, subsidiary, sites on the puna above it as well as within the lower warm valley ecozone near the Santa River. Nevertheless, Mareniyoc is distinguished from the rest of the sites in the area by its management and production of symbols. The large funerary area is next to the religious site, Amá II. Furthermore, ethnographic data from the local farmers support the idea that during the Early Horizon Mareniyoc was already a central place controlling the Cuncashca puna where today townspeople conduct their animals to dry season grazing lands (Sergio Vergara, personal communication, 1998). Transhumance among various ecological zones at different altitudes within the Callejón de Huaylas has been occurring since preceramic times (Lynch 1971). The settlement pattern with the distribution of open spaces as patios between artificial or natural platforms reflects a desire to congregate people in limited areas. The social activity developed at the Maquellouan site seems to have included ceremonies and rituals where feasts were important to group coherence. Information recovered from Queyash Alto has indicated the role of celebration sponsored by recognized social and political authorities (Gero 1992:18). Our data concur in that the community organized its collective life around celebration and drinking, thus affirming social relations and reciprocity. Fortified constructions at high altitude sites such as Chonta Ranra Punta may be explained by the need to install an outpost or refuge that could control the puna and the Cuncashca Quebrada. Both sites coexisted with similar settlement plans. Furthermore, the communication with the primary center (Mareniyoc) in a complementary economy was a means of integrating a region where attacks may have come from people occupying the western slopes of the Cordillera Negra. Wilson’s (1995) work in the Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Casma Valley indicates warfare as a reason for the profusion of fortresses during the Patazca Period (350 to 1 B.C.). The increasing population and the need for more agricultural land forced chiefdoms to fight among themselves. The Amá II Ritual Area of Mareniyoc As I mentioned in the introduction, the simple architecture around the Great Stone and its human burial beneath may have ceremonial meaning related to the ritual of burial and reverence paid to the interred individual. Doyle’s definition of the Cusco Quechua machay as a sacred space formed by natural or modified caves, with openings that were intentionally blocked to reduce the size of the entrances (1988:110) exactly matches the Amá II Tomb E. Another factor that demonstrates the ceremonial aspect of the Great Stone is its orientation to the highest mountain peaks of the Cordillera Blanca. This is related to the well-known Andean practice of showing reverence to mountains through rites performed with sea products (Rostworowski 1986:87). A monolith, Piruro II (PAn 5-9; Figures 34-36), with similar ceremonial attributes was found on the upper ridge above the Amá II site, at the boundary between the puna and suni ecozones (3930 masl). This stone was modified to a cubical form. It was made of tuff (silica), is 1.22 meters high, and is enclosed by a nearly circular structure composed of irregularly shaped rocks (Figure 36). The faces of the cubic stone were carved with simple designs, possibly depicting a human face, but not in any particular style (Figure 35). Piruro II faces north, towards the Huascarán peak. Only two tubular kaolinite beads, each 5 cm long, and one spherical metal bead were found in the structure surrounding the stone. Neither ceramics nor bones were among the offerings. In summary, the structures around sacred rocks may have had the function of shrines, where the ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) members of the local communities celebrated ceremonies on special occasions, as they currently do throughout the year at small Catholic shrines in Andean communities. Isabelita: Assessing the Art Style Although the incision technique on flat surfaces of rock was used in the sculptures from Cerro Sechín (Burger 1989:552), the representations on the Isabelita Rock are quite different. The frontal position of the man with a trophy head, as represented on the Isabelita Rock never appeared at Sechín. The artist who made the Isabelita image could have inherited the Sechín technique, but his or her cultural expression differs from the Sechín Style. The reptile head on the Isabelita Rock is similar to the engraved bone from Pallka and may have been intended to represent the same being. Almost all the diagnostic ceramics of the Cotojirca I Phase found at the Amá II site have their counterparts within the Pallka temple ceramic assemblage, which may have been the center of diffusion at this time. The principal element of the Isabelita Rock is the frontal man holding a trophy head. This image represents a ritual human sacrifice intended to ensure a good harvest or success in some other project (Benson 1997:11). This image’s central position may indicate that it is a deity, as seen in Cupisnique petroglyphs (Guffroy 1999:136). The mammal represented in full body profile, if intended to represent a fox, evokes the metaphoric significance of such animals in the Andes in connection with agricultural cycles and productivity (Urton 1985: 267). Today deer are considered to be the cows of the apus or sacred mountains. They belong to them and when humans kill them they always have to deposit offerings in exchange for them (ibid.: 258-259). Both foxes and deer are currently seen in the Cordillera Negra in the puna near outcrops. - 146 A possible connection between the iconography of the Isabelita Rock and the manipulation of religious power in circular structures is the representation of the cat mouth in the images of the reptile and the feline. Rowe (1970:81) argued for a relationship between the jaguar mouth and the religious ritual associated with important mythological beings. Furthermore, in the Cupisnique region a powerful religious ideology appeared that featured human trophy heads, a feline/bird/reptile triad, fish, and spondylus imported from what is now Ecuador, among other elements (Von Hagen and Morris 1998:57). All of these concepts are expressed on the Isabelita Rock. Without doubt some kind of generalized ritual must have existed in the Andes when the late Chavín Style was current, and aspects of this ritual seem to have been both expressed by the Isabelita Rock and performed there. When Menzel and her colleagues studied the ceramic sequence of Ica, based on artifacts from Ocucaje and Callango, they recognized innovations introduced in Phase 9 that were derived from Phase 8, the latter still under Chavín Phase EF influence (Menzel et al. 1964: 259). The principal innovation, according to Menzel et al., is a mythical personification of the Oculate Being, represented as the full figure of a man, with a trophy head, appendages on the top of this head, angular arms and legs, and incised lines marking off the fingers (ibid.: figures 44b, 52c, figure 40 from Willey 1974: plate 359). All of these attributes are exhibited by the human-like being depicted on the Isabelita Rock. Whether this figure is the same mythical entity as the Oculate Being, or is the representation of a man with a trophy head and hafted knife, remains unclear, but the figure appears elsewhere in the Andes (ibid.: 259). In this respect, Grieder (1978:183) suggested a Paracas influence on elements of the Recuay Style ceramics. Whether true or not, long distance interactions were occurring at the same time. 147 The appearance of the trophy head theme in two distant regions at the same time confirms the decline of the Chavín Horizon, the demise of its cult, and the emergence of sites such as Pallka and Kuntur Wasi (Burger 1989: 561) and the beginning of the White-on-Red Horizon Style. Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving puna and valley floor interacted with the Mareniyoc center in a pattern of vertical ecological control. The Cotojirca I Phase shows the development of a kin-based chiefdom in a circumscribed mountainous territory within the Callejón de Huaylas. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Elements of the iconography expressed on the Isabelita Rock persisted in the art of societies such as Recuay and Wari. Examples of Recuay art showing full frontal humans are common in the media of petroglyphs, bone carvings, and ceramics (Ponte 2005). In the corpus of Callejón de Huaylas rock sculpture produced during Wari times, one frequently finds depictions of a central human being flanked by felines. This is a Recuay theme appropriated by the Wari imperial apparatus as part of their efforts to control ideology. I am grateful to my wife Shari for reviewing and correcting the English text. Special thanks go to project members Cesar Aguirre, Santiago Morales, Emily Baca, and Sergio Anchi (all from the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos). Luis Lumbreras commented on the first Spanish language draft and I benefitted from Richard Burger’s advice on a revised English version. Bill Sapp also helped to improve this paper. Two anonymous Andean Past reviewers made useful critiques and suggestions. Research was supported by Minera Barrick Misquichilca, S.A., owner of the Pierina Mine. Sincere thanks goes to Barrick managers, especially Holton Burns, Environmental Coordinator, who included cultural mitigation in the environmental management master plan. CONCLUSIONS REFERENCES CITED This discussion of the Isabelita Rock engraving focused on its meaning in its archaeological context and elucidated its relationship to concepts of space-time during the Cotojirca I Phase. It also revealed its association with funerary rituals that may have established the foundation of the Amá II site through a cult of ancestor veneration expressed on a sacred rock. The Isabelita Rock engraving is contemporaneous with the EF Phase of Chavín de Huántar rock sculpture seriation (late Early Horizon) while the rounded structure and the burial is earlier, as shown by ceramics in the mid-Early Horizon Huaricoto and Capilla Styles present. Amá II, a component of the Mareniyoc site, was the focus of worship by a local community, or ayllu established on the eastern flanks of the Cordillera Negra. 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Struiver, Minze and Bernd Becker 1986 High-Precision Decadal Calibration of the Radiocarbon Time Scale, AD 1950-2500 BC. Radiocarbon 28:863-910. Tellenbach, Michael Las excavaciones en el asentamiento formativo 1986 de Montegrande, valle de Jequetepeque en el norte del Perú. Materialien für Allgemeine und Vergleichenden Archäologie 39. Munich: Verlag C.H. Beck. Tello, Julio C. 1943 Discovery of the Chavin Culture in Peru. American Antiquity 9(1):135-160. 1956 Arqueología del valle de Casma: Culturas Chavín, Santa o Huaylas yunga y sub-Chimú. Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. 1960 Chavín: Cultura matriz de la civilización andina. Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Terada, Kazuo 1975 Excavations at La Pampa in the North Highlands of Peru. Report of the Japanese Scientific Expedition to Nuclear America. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1980 Excavaciones arqueológicas en la Pampa, Ancash, realizadas por la Expedición Científica Japonesa a la América Nuclear en 1975. In El hombre y la cultura andina: 31 de enero-5 de febrero 1977, actas y trabajos, III Congreso Peruano, edited by Ramiro Matos M., pp. 1048-1077. Lima: Editora Lasontay. Thompson, Donald E. 1962 Additional Stone Carving from the North Highlands of Peru. American Antiquity 28(2): 245-246. - 150 Urton, Gary, editor 1985 Animal Myths and Metaphors. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Von Hagen, Adriana and Craig Morris 1998 The Cities of the Ancient Andes. London and New York: Thames and Hudson. Willey, Gordon 1974 Das Alte Amerika. Berlin: Propyden verlag. Wilson, David 1988 Prehispanic Settlement Patterns in the Lower Santa Valley, Peru. Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. 1995 Prehispanic Settlement Patterns in the Casma Valley, North Coast of Peru: Preliminary Results to Date. Journal of the Steward Anthropological Society 23(1, 2):189-227. 151 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Chronological Chart: Ceramic Styles of the Northern Highlands of Peru Time Scale Cajamarca Pacopampa Callejón de Huaylas Kunturwasi La Pampa Huaricoto 300 8 200 Cotojirca III 400 EARLY INTERMEDIATE PERIOD 100 100 8 200 Sotera Stamped circles 300 400 8 Red-on-Orange 500 Copa Copa 600 700 8 800 Kunturwasi 8 Huarás 8 Late Capilla La Pampa Early Capilla Expansiva Modeled, Incised 8 Pacopampa Yesopampa Ídolo Cotojirca I 8 Casma Valley 8 Recuay/ Moche III-IV 9 Cotojirca II 900 1000 Nepeña Valley Chavín de Huántar 8 AD BC EARLY HORIZON Pierina Huarás Chankillo San Diego Janabarriu Kushipampa Pallka Chavinoid Las Haldas Chakinani Urabarriu Ofrendas Quitapampa Huaricoto Table 1: Chronology and ceramic styles of the northern Highlands of Peru. Sector Unit Material * C F 137 3 A Charcoal -24.1 PAn 5-4 443 Platform I A Charcoal AA32492 PAn 5-39 3924 Area 2 C1 AA32488 PAn 5-50 5025 II Lab No. Site AA32484 PAn 5-1 AA32480 Register No. C BP 1F 0.7575±0.0053 2,230±55 390-210 BC -26 0.9211±0.0044 660±40 AD 1280-1390 Ceramic -23.7 0.6834±0.0041 3,060±50 1410-1265 BC Charcoal -24.6 0.7504±0.0053 2,305±55 480-230 BC 13 14 Table 2: Radiocarbon dates for Chonta Ranra Punta (PAn 5-1), Maquellouan Punta (PAn 5-4), Urpay Coto Site (PAn 5-39), and Quitapampa C (PAn 5-50),calibrated according to Struiver and Becker 1986:863. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 152 Figure 1: Isabelita rock. Figure 2: Isabelita rock seen from above (from Ponte 2005: figure 2). 153 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 3: Isabelita Rock motifs. Figure 4: Great Stone. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 154 Figure 5: Plan of Great Stone and surrounding circular structure (after Ponte 2005: figure 4). 155 Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 6: Plan of Amá II site (for “Great Rock” read “Great Stone”). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 7: Dark Space underneath Great Stone looking east, where offerings were found. - 156 157 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 8: Profile A-A, Amá II site. See Figure 6. Figure 9: Profile B-B, Amá II site. See Figure 6. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 158 Figure 10, Profile C-C, Amá II site. See Figure 6. Figure 11: Section of Mareniyoc mound made by local people during house construction. 159 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 12: Map of Peru showing Formative sites mentioned in the text. 1. Mareniyoc; 2. Huaricoto; 3. Pallka; 4. Tumshucaico; 5. Pumacayan (Huaraz); 6. Chupacoto; 7. La Pampa; 8. Guitarrero Cave; 9. Kunturwasi; 10. Puemape; 11. Piruro; 12. Pacopampa; 13. Chavín de Huantar; 14. Cerro Sechín; 15. Punkurí; 16. Queyash Alto; 17. Kotosh; 18. Puerto Morin; 19. Tembladera; 20. La Galgada; 21. Cupisnique; 22. Cerro Blanco. Garagay, Paracas, Callango, and Ocucaje are off the map. Garagay is within metropolitan Lima. The Paracas sites are on the Paracas Peninsula on Peru’s south coast. Callango and Ocucaje are in the Ica Valley, also on the south coast. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 160 Figure 13: Map of the Callejón de Huaylas showing the distribution of Early Horizon sites. Key: 1 = Chonta Ranra Punta, PAn 5-1; 4 = Maquellouan Punta, PAn 5-4; 5A = Balcón de Judas, PAn 5A; 5F = Marcum, PAn 5F; 9 = Piruro II, PAn 5-9; 13 = Tapa Punta, PAn 5-13; 16 = Wiñaq Punta, PAn 5-16; 17 = Quenapun Punta, PAn 5-17; 24 = Shucsha Punta, PAn 5-24; 25 = Racrish Punta, PAn 5-25; 29 = Oshku, PAn 5-29; 37 = Mareniyoc, PAn 5-37; 39 = Urpay Coto, PAn 5-39; 49 = Amá II, PAn 5-49; 50 = Quitapampa C, PAn 5-50; 58 = Llaca Amá, PAn 5-58; 77 = Ainá, PAn 5-77; 79 = Castilla Coto, PAn 5-79. 161 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 14: Map of sites in study area. Key: 1 = Chonta Ranra Punta PAn 5-1; 4 = Maquellouan Punta, PAn 5-4; 9 = Piruro II, PAn 5-9; 13 = Tapa Punta, PAn 5-13; 16 = Wiñaq Punta PAn 516; 17 = Quenapun Punta, PAn 50-1; 37 = Mareniyoc, PAn 5-37; 39 = Urpay Coto, PAn 5-39; 49 = Amá, PAn 5-77; 50 = Quitapampa C, PAn 5-50. Scale in kilometers. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 15: Distribution of funerary chambers in the Pierina area. - 162 163 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 16: View of the setting of the Amá II site. The site stands on the ridge to the viewer’s right and is covered by trees. The Santa River is in the middle ground. Figure 17: Some of the lapis lazuli and green chrysocolla beads found in the Amá II E Tomb (scale in one centimeter intervals). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 164 Figure 18: Reconstructed gray bottle from Tomb E, Amá II site, context 49IV2. Scale is in one centimeter intervals. Figure 19: Cotojirca I bowls from Tomb E at the Amá II site. 165 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 20: Cotojirca I decorated bowl from Tomb E at the Ama II site. Figure 21: Cotojirca I decorated bowl from Tomb R at the Amá II site. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 22: Cotojirca II decorated bowl from Tomb R at the Amá II site. - 166 167 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 23: Cotojirca I sherds from the domestic rubbish heap at the Amá II site. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 168 Figure 24: Cotojirca I sherds from the domestic rubbish heap at the Amá II site. Figure 25: Cotojirca I ceramics from the domestic rubbish heap at the Amá II site. 169 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 26: Cotojirca I ollas from the domestic rubbish heap at the Amá II site. Figure 27: Cotojirca I bowls from the domestic rubbish heap at the Amá II site. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 28: Plan of Chonta Ranra Punta (after Ponte 2000: figure 3). - 170 171 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 29: Plan of Maquellouan Punta (after Ponte 2000: figure 6). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 172 Figure 30: Ceramics from the Maquellouan site. Figure 31: Ceramics from the Maquellouan site. 173 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 32: Plan of Urpay Coto. PAn 5-39. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 174 Figure 33: Ceramics from the Urpaycoto site. Figure 34: The Piruro II monolith in its original setting looking towards the 6,768 m Huascarán peak. 175 - Ponte: Isabelita Rock Engraving Figure 35: A human face is barely discernable on the north side of the Piruro II monolith. Figure 36: Plan of Piruro II monolith and surrounding structure. STRANGE HARVEST: A DISCUSSION OF SACRIFICE AND MISSING BODY PARTS ON THE NORTH COAST OF PERU CATHERINE GAITHER Metropolitan State College of Denver JONATHAN BETHARD University of Tennessee, Knoxville JONATHAN KENT Metropolitan State College of Denver Numerous researchers have discussed the finds of what they refer to as secondary interments in funerary contexts around the world (Dulanto 2002; Hecker and Hecker 1992; Klaus and Tam 2009; Larson 2001; Millaire 2004; Nelson 1998; Weiss-Krejci 2001; Verano 1997). In the Andean region, the finds range from the “jumbled bones” that Verano (1997) refers to in the tombs at Sipán to ritual re-interment described by Millaire (2004). This pattern has been described for numerous sites in Peru dating to various time periods (Dulanto 2002; Hecker and Hecker 1992; Klaus and Tam 2009; Millaire 2004; Nelson 1998; and Verano 1997) and may, therefore, represent a common feature in mortuary practice, both spatially and temporally, in this region of the world. Few researchers, however, have described finds of the contexts from which these secondary interments may have been “harvested”. Verano (1997) described the find of complete bodies with the bones in a “jumbled” state at the Moche site of Sipán. He interpreted this as indicating that some decomposition had taken place prior to the inclusion of the body in the secondary context, and suggested that perhaps the bodies had been stored for future inclusion ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 177-194. VÍCTOR VÁSQUEZ SÁNCHEZ ARQUEOBIOS, Trujillo, Perú TERESA ROSALES THAM ARQUEOBIOS, Trujillo, Perú and Universidad Nacional de Trujillo, Trujillo, Perú RICHARD BUSCH Denver Museum of Nature and Science in a tomb. Nelson (1998) described undisturbed burials containing incomplete skeletons at the Moche site of San José de Moro. He attributes these to an extended funerary rite, whereby the body was protected from external elements (such as insects) that sped decomposition, in order to allow for a transitional component of the mortuary ritual. This may have included long-distance travel and rites of re-incorporation of the individual back into the social order in accordance with rites of passage as described by van Gennep (1960). Nelson (1998) notes that the partial decomposition of the corpse during this interim period might explain lost body parts, particularly if long-distance transport was involved in the ritual. Other researchers (Klaus and Tam 2009; Millaire 2004; Hecker and Hecker 1992) have described parts of bodies included with principal personages in tombs. Klaus and Tam (2009) noted a preference at the colonial Chapel of San Pedro de Mórrope for long bones and skulls. The site of Santa Rita B in the Chao Valley of Peru’s north coast also demonstrates secondary interments in a funerary context. However, there are some notable and intriguing differences seen at this north coast site. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) The site of Santa Rita B also appears to demonstrate a pattern of ritual re-interment, which includes isolated body parts interred with principal personages. Notable at this site, however, is the presence of what we are calling a “harvested body”. This individual demonstrates missing elements in combination with little or no evidence for post-interment disturbance, similar to what Nelson (1998) described at San José de Moro. In contrast to what Nelson (1998) found, however, there is evidence that Entierro (Burial) 9 was interred at Santa Rita B shortly after death and with flesh intact. Not only is the skeleton well-articulated, there is no evidence of insect activity, and the bones show crushing injuries consistent with moist bone impacted by the placement of several large rocks on top of the body. Some of the missing skeletal elements were taken from the body prior to the placement of the rocks on top of it. Additionally, this individual appears to be a sacrifice victim rather than an ancestor or another principal personage, based upon the atypical position of the body, including the haphazard manner in which it was interred, evidence of violent injuries on the skeleton, and its association with other sacrifice victims also demonstrating atypical burial positions and traumatic lesions consistent with sacrifice. The skeleton demonstrates missing elements, primarily long bones (which is consistent with Klaus and Tam’s description), and not only is there no evidence of cultural taphonomic disturbance, but there is, in fact, significant evidence that the body was not disturbed post-interment given the placement of the rocks. This differs from what Dulanto (2002) describes at Pampa Chica, a Late Initial Period/Early Horizon site (ca. 700-200 B.C.) in the Lurín Valley on the central coast of Peru. He describes tombs containing incomplete skeletons. The tombs at this site, however, show clear evidence of re-opening in order to access the human remains and the remains accessed appear to have been those of principal personages. Dulanto (2002) interprets this in the - 178 context of ancestor worship. This is a different pattern from what is seen at Santa Rita B and thus, the reason for this “strange harvest” is not yet clear. Secondary burial deposits are often present in numerous Andean archaeological contexts, and scholars frequently frame such features as part of the ancestor cult, or mortuary practices that provide continuity between the living and the dead (Dillehay 1995). Such practices help enhance collective relationships and legitimize which resources a particular community controls (Dillehay 1995; Salomon 1995). As noted by Klaus and Tam (2009), however, the pattern one would expect with ancestor worship includes, at a minimum, successful reproduction and adult age for those “re-interred” individuals. This is not the pattern seen at Santa Rita B with respect to Entierro 9. The purpose of this paper is to present the case of Entierro 9, discuss its possible relevance within the context of Andean mortuary practice and to further discuss the possibilities regarding what behavior inferred from it might mean. ARCHAEOLOGICAL SETTING The Santa Rita B archaeological site is on the western slopes of the Andes of Northern Peru (Figure 1), in the lower portion of the middle Chao Valley at an average elevation of 484 m above mean sea level. Its strategic position permitted a certain degree of control over the movement of people, goods, and camelid herds between the coastal and highland regions (Kent et al. 1999). See Gaither et al. (2008) for a more detailed description of the site and its location. Now having completed its tenth season, the Santa Rita B Archaeological Project has been defining the nature of the human occupation of the site and investigating selected aspects of its economic, social, political, and ideological 179 - Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice history. Most recently (since 2001) excavations have focused on areas of apparent domestic architecture, making up complexes of rooms ranging in number from 10-30 enclosures. One of these, known as “Archaeological Complex No. 3” (Conjunto Arquitectónico 3, or just CA3) is a rock-walled compound measuring about 29 m N-S x 25 m E-W, subdivided into approximately 19 partly or completely enclosed spaces or “rooms” (Figure 2). We have determined that the upper strata of the site were deposited sometime between AD 1050 and 1280. During our excavations here, several human skeletons were encountered that produced calibrated C-14 dates of this time period and which are the focus of this paper (Table 1). Type of Personage Conventional Radiocarbon Age (CRA) 2F Cal* p A.D. 1134-1271 A.D. 1046-1084 0.886 0.113 -15.5 A.D. 1145-1272 A.D. 1049-1079 0.928 0.072 -21.6 A.D. 1175-1281 A.D. 1162-1172 0.976 0.024 13C/ 12C Lab. No. Cat. No. Material Taken From Beta217488 SRB560-1 BONE/ R. RIBS ENTIERRO #4 PRINCIPAL PERSONAGE 900 + 40 -18.4 Beta217489 SRB561-1 BONE/ L. RIBS ENTIERRO #3 PROBABLE HUMAN SACRIFICE 890 + 40 Beta217490 SRB562-1 BONE/ R. RIBS ENTIERRO #2 PROBABLE HUMAN SACRIFICE 850 + 40 *2-sigma age ranges calibrated using the CALIB RADIOCARBON PROGRAM “SHcal 04” for the southern hemisphere developed by McCormac et al., 2004 used in conjunction with Stuiver and Reimer, 1993. p = Probability of actual calibrated date falling within stated range. Table 1: Calibrated radiocarbon dates for human bones samples. ENTIERRO 9 Entierro 9 is the partial skeleton of a sub-adult, possibly male, aged 12 years±30 months at time of death. Age estimation is based on epiphyseal union, dental eruption, and long bone lengths using standards developed by both Gaither (2004) and Ubelaker (1999). Both sets of standards are consistent with this age estimate. See Table 2 for details on age indicators in this skeleton. The assignment of sex as possibly male is based on a very masculine mandibular morphology. Assignment of sex in subadults based on mandibular morphology does have some support in the literature. Sutter (2003) demonstrated an accuracy of 77.6% for sex estimation using mandibular arcade shape in a study utilizing prehistoric known-sex subadult mummies from northern Chile. The glabellar region on the cranium of this skeleton also appeared robust, indicating a possible male; however, there are no studies addressing the accuracy of this morphology for assigning sex in subadults. The rest of the cranium was ambiguous with regard to sexually dimorphic characteristics, and the pelvis was missing. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 180 Skeletal element Age indication in Entierro Number 9 Age range possibilities Age estimate Dental formation and eruption All permanent teeth erupted and in wear with the exception of the third molar, which has not yet erupted Gaither (2004) = 12 years ± 21 months Ubelaker (1999) = 11 years ± 30 months 12 years ± 30 months = age range of 9.5-15 years of age Epiphyseal Union All major long bone epiphyses unfused including the distal humerus All vertebral arches fused together, and at least partially, to the centra (see L5) L5 body to arch – partial union Cervical and vertebral rims unfused No pelvic elements present All cranial sutures unfused Basilar suture unfused Medial clavicle unfused Vertebral arches and bodies to centra fuse in early childhood (by 7 years of age) (Scheuer and Black 2000) Pelvic elements fuse between approximately 8-10 years of age (Bass 1995), but all are missing in this individual The earliest epiphyseal union in long bones occurs on the distal humerus, the epiphyses of which can unite as early as 9 years and as late as 13 years of age in females and as early as 11 years and as late as 15 years of age in males (White and Folkens 2005) – the humerus of Entierro Number 9 is not fused Basilar suture union usually occurs between 18 and 21 years of age (Scheuer and Black 2000) Medial clavicle union occurs no later than 31 years of age (Scheuer and Black 2000) 9-15 years of age Long bone lengths Due to the fragmentary nature of the skeleton, only one long bone was complete enough to measure. It was the right ulna = 206 mm. Gaither (2004) = 13 years Ubelaker (1999) = 11 years 12 years Table 2: Age Indicators in Entierro Number 9 Missing elements include the left humerus, radius, ulna, all of the bones of the left hand and some of the bones of the right hand, the entire pelvis, the left femur, patella, tibia, fibula, and all of the bones of the left ankle and foot. The right fibula and the bones of the right ankle and foot are also missing (Figure 3). Pathologies include the presence of cut marks on one right rib, on one left rib fragment, and on one unfused sternebra. See Figures 4-6 for photos of the cut marks on one rib and the sternebra and a drawing of the location of the marks on the two ribs. The superficial nature of these cut marks as well as their location on the superior, internal aspects of the ribs and the posterior aspect of the sternebra support the hypothesis that these marks may have been caused by natural taphonomic processes, which occurred shortly after death, rather than antemortem trauma. It is possible, for example, that as the body decomposed and the rocks settled, the weight of the rocks pressing on the bones caused superficial cut marks on parts of the skeleton. The cut mark on the sternebra, however, is more substantial and may be the product of violence. Additionally, there is other evidence of trauma on the body, and therefore, it is not possible to rule out violence as the cause of the cut marks. Other evidence of trauma includes a perimortem fracture of the right femur (Figure 7) and possible blunt force trauma to the occipital region of the cranium. Specifically, the occipital bone is fractured and partially missing from the back of the skull. There is also a radiating fracture on the right parietal, running from the posterior to anterior portion and terminating in the coronal suture (Figure 8). This suggests blunt force trauma to the back of the head, which certainly could have been fatal. This trauma, in combination with the body position supports the hypothesis of violent demise. While there was no evidence of the postmortem disarticulation or dismemberment of body parts, it should be noted that the state of preservation of skeletal remains at this site is extremely poor. The bone was extraordinarily fragile, crumbling 181 at the slightest disturbance. It is quite possible that such evidence was not preserved. The position of the body is not typical of burials involving principal personages, which tend to demonstrate a carefully positioned body and often include grave goods. Burials of principal personages contemporaneous with Entierro 9 are often in an extended supine position (Shimada et al. 2004). Entierro 9, however, is prone (face down) with several large, heavy rocks placed on top of the body around the time of death (Figure 9). Given that this is an atypical burial position and that this individual was excavated from a funerary context involving no fewer than two principal personages (Entierros 4 and 8), both of which did demonstrate typical burial positions, it is likely that this is a sacrifice victim. It is also interesting to note that, while there are several missing skeletal elements, there was no visible stratigraphic evidence of looting around the area of this skeleton. Additionally, the missing elements are unusual, particularly given the position of the body and the presence of the large rocks. The placement of the rocks on top of the body around the time of death is indicated by the position of the rocks nestled deep in the body cavity (Figure 10) and the resulting perimortem crushing injuries to the body (Figure 11). In other words, the way the body bends as a result of the weight of the rocks suggests the bone was moist when the rocks were put in place. This, along with an articulated skeleton, as was the case with Entierro 9, indicates a primary interment, which occurred shortly after death. The lack of insect puparia also supports the hypothesis of a rapid burial postmortem. The question becomes, how can we explain the missing skeletal elements? Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice construction or other cultural transformation processes that occurred during a later occupation of the site. There is no stratigraphic evidence for this, but the human remains are so close to the ground surface that it is possible such evidence may be very subtle and difficult to discern. The large rocks on top of the body, however, appear to have been placed on the individual shortly after death and they do not appear to have been moved, as doing so would most certainly have disturbed the underlying remains. The fact that the skeleton, particularly the portion covered by the rocks, was perfectly articulated indicates this did not happen. A second hypothesis is that body parts were harvested from this skeleton for some ritualistic purpose, prior to interment. Once the appropriate parts were removed, the body was placed in a prone position and covered with large rocks. This was all accomplished very shortly after death as there are no insect puparia associated with the body and the crushing injuries resulting from the placement of the rocks suggests the bones were still moist upon interment. Entierro 9 presents the most compelling evidence for “harvesting” at Santa Rita B, however, there are other possible “harvested bodies” at this site. In addition to Entierro 9, some of the other sacrifice victims found at Santa Rita B demonstrate evidence of “harvesting”. Included among these is Entierro 5. Although there was a modern looter’s pit present near the head of this subadult,1 the lower body was undisturbed, and yet, all of the bones of the left ankle and both feet were missing. This suggests the possibility that both feet and the left ankle were “harvested”. This individual also demonstrated perimortem cut marks on the ribs, one of which DISCUSSION 1 There are at least two possibilities that might explain these findings. The first is the possibility that the remains were disturbed in antiquity by The same aging indicators were used to estimate the age of this individual as were used for Entierro 9, the indicators for which can be seen in Table 1. These are standard aging indicators as per Buikstra and Ubelaker (1994), Ubelaker (1999) and Gaither (2004). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) completely severed the tip of the rib. There is also evidence of ritual re-interment at Santa Rita B. This includes the articulated remains of body parts. Entierro 10 is one example. This individual is represented exclusively by the lower legs and there was no evidence for the presence of the upper body, nor was there evidence of any cultural or natural transformation processes that might have disturbed the remains. Additionally, there was an articulated partial left foot with no other associated body parts present. Entierro 1 was also a partial skeleton consisting of the cranium of a subadult. The cranium demonstrated two areas of perimortem blunt force trauma indicating possible sacrifice, but only a few other scattered bones were found and those could not be positively associated with the cranium. Another sacrifice, an adult male, is complete. This individual demonstrates injuries consistent with perimortem trauma and interpersonal violence in the form of superficial cut marks to the sternum and an unhealed parry fracture. When considering the bigger picture that is emerging at this site, it appears that the area known as CA3 was an important area for ritual activity. There are two principal burials, and there is evidence that these individuals were of a high social status, including Spondylus caches found near the body of one of these and associated camelid offerings found with both. Additionally, one of these bodies, Entierro 4, demonstrates symmetrical cranial modification and there is evidence the other one, Entierro 8, also had an intentionally modified cranium. Thus, the overall picture that emerges in this area of Santa Rita B is the presence of two principal personages (Entierros 4 and 8) accompanied by sacrifice victims and re-interred body parts from other contexts. The sacrifice victims are identified by injuries suggestive of perimortem trauma (Entierros 5 and 10), and/or haphazard atypical body positions (Entierros 2, 3, 5, 9 and 10) that are not consistent with any identified funerary - 182 practices from this, or any, time period in the Andean region. In other words, principal personages are not found buried in these positions, which supports our interpretation that these are sacrifice victims. Verano (1986, 2000) and Bourget (2001) have described similar treatment of sacrifice victims at the sites of Huaca de la Luna and Pacatnamú. Those skeletons also demonstrated atypical body positions and mutilation including missing body parts. What differentiates the Santa Rita B remains, however, is the fact that these sacrifices were excavated from a funerary context that included no fewer than two principal personages. In contrast, the sacrifices of Pacatnamú and those of Huaca de la Luna (Plazas 3A and 3C) involve mass graves of mutilated remains or ceremonial areas where mutilated bodies were left exposed (Verano 1986, 2000). At neither site were the bodies included with principal personages in a funerary context. Verano’s (1986, 2000) interpretation of those remains as war prisoners or criminals who faced severe punishment is consistent for those contexts, but does not appear appropriate for the finds at Santa Rita B. It is important in understanding the behavior of sacrifice to distinguish between the types of sacrifice illustrated by the examples above. Benson and Cook (2001:ix) define sacrifice as either “giving without receiving or giving up something valuable that may benefit others.” Of course, the most valuable thing that can be given up is human life. The distinction between the sacrifices found in contexts similar to those of Huaca de la Luna or Pacatnamú as compared to contexts such as that at Santa Rita B lies in the reasons behind the behavior. While the behaviors seen at ceremonial centers like Huaca de la Luna may have played a role in establishing the authority of one group over another, or had symbolic meaning beyond warfare, such as the possibility of ritual cannibalism in the Plaza 183 3B materials at Huaca de la Luna (Verano 2001), we argue the sacrifices at Santa Rita B are more likely to have either been offerings in and of themselves as part of a funeral rite, or what we, and others, have referred to as retainer sacrifices (Gaither et al. 2008; Verano 2001). These are individuals who were to serve the dead in the afterlife. In both cases, an offering in and of itself, and a retainer sacrifice, the individuals sacrificed can be seen as something valuable that is given up in order to benefit others, in this case the deceased principal personages. The “harvesting” of body parts, however, suggests a level of ritual that goes beyond the idea of a retainer sacrifice. Also present at the site of Santa Rita B are isolated, and often articulated body parts, including a skull demonstrating perimortem blunt force trauma (Entierro 1), articulated limbs (Entierro 10), an articulated foot (SRB-05 -24 FS 4), and several other isolated bones. These finds support the hypothesis of ritual re-interment of body parts from other contexts, and Entierro 9 is consistent with a body that has been “harvested” for parts, the location and purpose of these parts being unknown. The dating of these finds and the funerary pattern seen at Santa Rita B and at other sites (Dulanto 2002; Klaus and Tam 2009; Millaire 2004; Nelson 1998; Verano 1997) support the hypothesis that ritual re-interment is another pan-Andean mortuary practice. We have argued before that child sacrifice, retainer sacrifice, and the practice of including elements or sacrifice victims that are metaphorically similar to the deceased are funerary practices evident at Santa Rita B and other sites throughout the Andes, both geographically and temporally (Gaither et al. 2008). We believe, given the evidence emerging here and in other contexts (Dulanto 2002; Hecker and Hecker 1992; Klaus and Tam 2009; Millaire 2004; Nelson 1998; Verano 1997), that ritual re-interment is another of those funerary practices that occurred in numerous areas in the Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice Andean region and persisted throughout time in this part of the world. The practice is certainly well described for the Moche culture (Hecker and Hecker 1992; Millaire 2004; Nelson 1998; Verano 1997), but the finds at Santa Rita B in conjunction with the finds from other sites (Dulanto 2002; Klaus and Tam 2009) extend the practice temporally as well. Describing the patterns seen, and defining the temporal and spatial parameters, is but the first step in the process of understanding the behavior. There are at least two hypotheses that may explain the behavior. Ancestor worship is the first possibility. While the role of the ancestor cult is not heavily described in all mortuary analyses, numerous workers indicate that secondary deposits of disarticulated and incomplete skeletal remains are quite common in the Andes (Buikstra 1995; Carmichael 1995; Dulanto 2002; Klaus and Tam 2009; Millaire 2004; Nelson 1998; Verano 1995, 1997). Although such deposits are sometimes only loosely connected with the importance of ancestors, Brown (1995) argues that such inferences are entirely probable. For example, Larson (2001) notes that secondary burials and the presence of incomplete skeletal remains in primary interments in Highland Madagascar are the result of multiple intrusions into a family tomb. Newly deceased individuals are placed in the tomb and “wound together” with previously deceased family members in order to combine them into one “great ancestor” (razambe) . Thus, it is entirely possible, and indeed probable, that one might find the remains of individuals wound together as part of the “great ancestor” who were not, in fact, anyone’s ancestor in life. Salomon (1995) notes that the physical manifestation of the ancestors’ remains are often critical in rituals where living relatives called upon the ancestors to provide various kinds of favors for typical day-to-day tasks. Such practices help enhance collective relationships and legitimize which resources a particular community controls ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) (Dillehay 1995; Salomon 1995). Given this, it might not be a requirement that an individual was an actual ancestor in life; rather simply that he or she lived and died before other members of the community. The pattern seen at Santa Rita B, however, is not entirely consistent with ancestor worship. The harvested remains are subadults, as are most of the secondary interments, and thus, these individuals would not have been the ancestors of anyone. Additionally, unlike thesituation in Highland Madagascar, they also appear to have been sacrifice victims, or to have come from sacrifice victims, rather than the exhumed remains of ancestors or family members. Klaus and Tam (2009) also had numerous subadult interments and rejected the hypothesis of ancestor worship at San Pedro de Mórrope. They argue instead that the secondary burials are associated with pervasive and persistent Andean metaphors of fertility, whereby mummies and bones are likened to dried seeds and tubers from which new life can spring forth (Salomon 1995). Similarly, Arriaza (1995) hypothesized that the preserved remains of the Chinchorro, which also included subadults, some of which were fetuses, could be likened to a dried fish in a marine society. Though dead, the preserved remains could still nourish the living. Within the context of this metaphor, the dead need not be anyone’s ancestor. This hypothesis is more consistent with the use of subadult remains, and would also not preclude sacrifice. As for other possible interpretations, such as punishment for criminals or war prisoners, the funerary context of these sacrifices makes those possibilities seem less likely. Clearly, more work is necessary, both in identifying the specific patterns involved and then in associating those patterns with an underlying belief system. As more sites, such as Santa Rita B, add to our understanding of when, where, and who was involved in these practices, a - 184 clearer picture of why these behaviors occurred should emerge. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS We acknowledge the following people and institutions for their invaluable assistance in helping us to produce this paper: The students of the 2004, 2005, and 2006 field seasons; Metropolitan State College of Denver; The University of Tennessee at Knoxville, Cartographic Services Laboratory; Haagen Klaus; the California Institute for Peruvian Studies; and the Institute for Andean Studies. REFERENCES CITED Arriaza, Bernardo T. 1995 Beyond Death: The Chinchorro Mummies of Ancient Chile. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Bass, William M. 1995 Human Osteology: A Laboratory and Field Manual, 4th edition. Columbia: Missouri Archaeological Society. Benson, Elizabeth P. and Anita G. Cook 2001 Preface. In Ritual Sacrifice in Ancient Peru, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson and Anita G. Cook, pp. ix - xii. Austin: University of Texas Press. Bourget, Steve 2001 Children and Ancestors: Ritual Practices at the Moche Site of Huaca de la Luna, North Coast of Peru. In Ritual Sacrifice in Ancient Peru, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson and Anita G. Cook, pp. 93118. Austin: University of Texas Press. Brown, James A. 1995 Andean Mortuary Practices in Perspective. In Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices, edited by Tom D. Dillehay, pp. 391-406. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Buikstra, Jane E. 1995 Tombs for the Living . . . or . . . For the Dead: The Osmore Ancestors. In Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices, edited by Tom D. Dillehay, pp. 229-280. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Buikstra, Jane E. and Douglas Ubelaker, editors 1994 Standards for Data Collection from Human Skeletal Remains. Fayetteville: Arkansas Archeological Survey Research Series 44. 185 Carmichael, Patrick H. 1995 Nasca Burial Patterns: Social Structure and Mortuary Ideology. In Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices, edited by Tom D. Dillehay, pp. 161-188. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Dillehay, Tom D. 1995 Introduction. In Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices, edited by Tom D. Dillehay, pp. 1-26. Washington, D. C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Dulanto, Jalh 2002 The Archaeological Study of Ancestor Cult Practices: The Case of Pampa Chica, a Late Initial Period and Early Horizon Site on the Central Coast of Peru. Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association 11 (1):97-1 17. Gaither, Catherine 2004 A Growth and Development Study of Coastal Prehistoric Peruvian Populations. Ph.D. dissertation, Tulane University. Gaither, Catherine, Jonathan D. Kent, Victor Vásquez Sánchez, and Teresa Rosales Tham 2008 Mortuary Practices and Human Sacrifice in the Middle Chao Valley of Peru: Their Interpretation in the Context of Andean Mortuary Patterning. Latin American Antiquity 19(2): 109-123. Gennep, Arnold van 1960 The Rites of Passage, translated by Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Hecker, Gisela and Wolfgang Hecker 1992 Ofrendas de huesos humanos y uso repetido de vasijas en el culto funerario de la costa norperuana. Gaceta Arqueológical Andina 6:33-53. Kent, Jonathan D., Teresa Rosales Tham, and Victor Vásquez Sánchez 1999 Informe final, temporada 1998: Manejo ecosustentable y desarrollo cultural del complejo arqueológico Santa Rita “B”. Informe sometido a la Comisión Técnica de Arqueología, Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Lima, Perú. Klaus, Haagen D. and Manuel Tam 2009 Surviving Contact: Biological Transformation, Burial, and Ethnogenesis in the Colonial Lambayeque Valley, Peru. In Bioarchaeology and Identity in the Americas, edited by Kelly J. Knudson and Christopher M. Stojanowski, pp. 126-152. Gainsville: University of Florida Press. Larson, Pier M. 2001 Austronesian Mortuary Ritual in History: Transformations of Secondary Burial Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice (Famadihana) in Highland Madagascar. Ethnohistory 48:123-155. McCormac, F.G., A.G. Hogg, P.G. Blackwell, C. E. Buck, T. F. G. Higham, and P. J. Reimer 2004 SHCa 104 Southern Hemisphere Calibration 0-11.0 cal kyr BP. Radiocarbon 46(3):1087-1092. Millaire, Jean-François 2004 The Manipulation of Human Remains in Moche Society: Delayed Burials, Grave Reopening, and Secondary Offerings of Human Bones on the Peruvian North Coast. Latin American Antiquity 15(4):371-389. Nelson, Andrew 1998 Wandering Bones: Archaeology, Forensic Science and Moche Burial Practices. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 8:192-212. Salomon, Frank 1995 “The Beautiful Grandparents”; Andean Ancestor Shrines and Mortuary Ritual as Seen Through Colonial Records. In Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices, edited by Tom D. Dillehay, pp. 315-354. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Scheuer, Louise and Sue Black 2000 Developmental Juvenile Osteology. New York: Academic Press. Shimada, Izumi, Ken-ichi Shinoda, Julie Farnum, Robert Corruccini, and Hirokatsu Watanabe 2004 An Integrated Analysis of Pre-Hispanic Mortuary Practices: A Middle Sicán Case Study. Current Anthropology 45 (3):369-402. Stuiver, M. and Reimer, P. J. 1993 Extended 14C Data Base and Revised Calib 3.0 14 C Age Calibration Program. Radiocarbon 35 (1):215-230. Sutter, Richard C. 2003 Nonmetric Subadult Sexing Traits: A Blind Test of the Accuracy of Eight Previously Proposed Methods Using Prehistoric Known-Sex Mummies from Northern Chile. Journal of Forensic Sciences 48 (5):927-935. Ubelaker, Douglas H. 1999 Human Skeletal Remains; Excavation, Analysis, Interpretation. 3rd edition. Washington, D.C.: Taraxacum. Verano, John W. 1986 A Mass Burial of Mutilated Individuals at Pacatnamu. In The Pacatnamu Papers, Volume 1, edited by Christopher B. Donnan and Guillermo A. Cock, pp 117-138. Los Angeles: Museum of Cultural History, University of California. 1995 Where Do They Rest? The Treatment of Human Offerings and Trophies in Ancient Peru. In ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 1997 2000 Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices, edited by Tom D. Dillehay, pp. 189-228. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Human Skeletal Remains from Tomb 1, Sipan (Lambayeque River Valley, Peru); and their Social Implications. Antiquity 71(273):670-683. Paleontological Analysis of Sacrificial Victims at the Pyramid of the Moon, Moche River Valley, Northern Peru. Chungará 32(1):61-70. - 186 2001 The Physical Evidence of Human Sacrifice in Ancient Peru. In Ritual Sacrifice in Ancient Peru, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson and Anita G. Cook, pp. 165-184. Austin: University of Texas Press. Weiss-Krejci, Estella 2001 Excarnation, Evisceration, and Exhumation in Medieval and Post Medieval Europe. In Interacting with the Dead: Perspectives on Mortuary Archaeology for the New Millennium, edited by Gordon F.M. Rakita, Jane E. Buikstra, Lane A. Beck, and Sloan R. Williams, pp. 155-172. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. White, Tim D. and Pieter Folkens 2005 The Human Bone Manual. San Diego: Elsevier Academic Press. 187 - Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice Figure 1: Map showing the location of Santa Rita B (after Donnan 1997, figure 1). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 2: Plan view of CA3 showing the locations of the sacrifices and burials. - 188 189 - Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice Figure 3: Drawing demonstrating missing bones (in black) from Entierro 9. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 190 Figure 4: Cut marks on rib, Entierro 9 (arrows). Figure 5: Cut mark on sternebra, Entierro 9 (arrow). 191 - Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice Figure 6: Drawing showing the location of cut marks on the ribs (arrows). Figure 7: Photo of perimortem fracture of the femur, Entierro 9. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 8: Photo of radiating fracture on the cranium, Entierro 9 (arrow). - 192 193 - Gaither et al.: North Coast Sacrifice Figure 9: Photo of the rocks covering the body of Entierro 9. Figure 10: Photo of large rock “nestled” into the body cavity of Entierro 9. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 194 Figure 11: photo of Entierro 9 after the rocks have been removed. Note the crushing injuries to the thorax as demonstrated by the depression of the rib cage relative to the neck and head. A DESIGN ANALYSIS OF MOCHE FINELINE SHERDS FROM THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITE OF GALINDO, MOCHE VALLEY, PERU GREGORY D. LOCKARD Compañía Operadora de LNG del Perú S.A.C. INTRODUCTION Museum displays and coffee table books on the ceramics of complex ancient societies are dominated throughout the world by whole pots. The vast majority of ceramics recovered from archaeological excavations, however, are sherds. Although the complete artistic composition of many decorated sherds cannot be determined, the designs on sherds still have the potential to shed light on a wide range of cultural issues of interest to archaeologists. For this reason, it is essential that archaeologists develop and utilize techniques that allow for the analysis of designs on sherds. Design analyses of sherds generally focus on the identification of design motifs and/or elements, and the comparison of the frequencies of these motifs and/or elements in distinct samples. These analyses focus on motifs and elements because they are often easily identifiable on sherds. Motifs can frequently even be identified on very small sherds, when the motif has first been identified on larger sherds. Through this kind of analysis, a variety of different sherd samples can be compared, including samples from different regions, polities, or sites. Such comparisons can elucidate a number of issues of interest to archaeologists, most notably interaction (Friedrich 1970; Plog 1980; Redman 1977; Watson 1977). In the case of stylistic similarities, interaction can take the form of trade, open lines of communication, or copying from a distance (Watson 1977). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 195-228. Andean archaeologists have long utilized comparisons of the artistic styles of contemporary societies to evaluate their level of interaction. In fact, such comparisons led early Andean archaeologists to formulate the concept of horizons, which are time periods of widespread interaction as indicated by similar artistic styles, including ceramic designs, across a large region of the Andes (Rowe 1960, 1962; Willey 1948). The horizon concept has been incorporated into the chronological framework that is still used by archaeologists today for the prehistory of the entire Andean culture area. The utility of comparing the ceramic designs of different societies is therefore well established in Andean archaeology, although formal ceramic design analyses are still rare. Less common still are comparisons between individual sites within the same society based on formal design analyses. Such comparisons, however, have the potential to provide valuable information concerning the level of interaction that existed between contemporaneous sites, which is the first step in establishing their political, cultural, and trade relationships. Establishing such relationships can in turn lead to a reconstruction of the history of the societies of which they were a part, which is one of the principal goals of archaeology. The following paper is divided into three main sections. The first provides an introduction to the Moche culture, including a brief description of the site of Galindo and the Phase V/Late Moche world, as well as a definition of Moche fineline ceramics. The second section ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) presents a design analysis of Moche fineline sherds from the site of Galindo. The analysis is laid out in detail in the hope that it will serve as a model for future design analyses. The final section presents a review of published examples of Galindo’s dominant painting tradition at contemporary sites throughout the north coast. I argue that the proportion of Moche fineline vessels decorated within this tradition reflects the level of interaction that existed between these sites and Galindo. THE MOCHE In most ways, the Moche culture (c. A.D. 100-800) of the north coast of Peru represents a continuation of earlier cultural traditions. With regard to subsistence, the Moche continued to expand upon, and maintain, the irrigation canal networks built by their ancestors (Billman 1996; Willey 1953: passim). They also continued to exploit and consume the same maritime resources and domesticated plants as their predecessors, although they did rely more heavily on domesticated camelids (especially llamas) and maize (Pozorski 1979). The Moche tended to have a more dispersed settlement pattern than preceding populations (Billman 1996; Willey 1953). The vast majority of the Moche population, however, continued to live in small houses similar to those of their immediate ancestors, and continued to live in small rural settlements. Although the construction of monumental architecture increased substantially during Moche times, Moche monuments were similar in form and construction technique, if not function, to those of earlier Gallinazo populations (Moseley 1992:165-166). The Moche also continued to produce many of the same crafts as their ancestors. Earlier Gallinazo domestic ceramics are, in fact, virtually indistinguishable from those of the Moche (Billman 1996:293). With regard to fine-ware ceramics, it has been argued that the Moche were strongly influenced - 196 by preceding Gallinazo and especially Salinar traditions (Kaulicke 1992). The most significant difference between the Moche and other north coast cultures is in their political ideology and the symbols of power used to communicate this ideology (Bawden 1995, 1996). Archaeologists first defined the Moche culture by the presence of these symbols of power, and have continued to use their presence to identify Moche sites. Moche symbols of power include a number of architectural features and artifacts that survive in the archaeological record. The latter include portable objects made of gold, silver, copper, stone, shell, wood, and ceramic materials. Ceramic symbols of power include figurines and vessels with sculpted, relief, and/or painted designs that communicate ideological messages. The most complex messages are conveyed by painted designs on ceramic vessels, especially those known as Moche finelines (Alva and Donnan 1993; DeMarrais et al. 1996; Donnan 1975; Donnan and Castillo 1992, 1994). As we shall see, however, not all Moche fineline ceramics communicated ideological messages (e.g., Donnan 1978; Donnan and McClelland 1999; Hocquenghem 1987). The Archaeological Site of Galindo Galindo is a large urban settlement in the Moche Valley (Figure 1). Topography and cultural features (i.e., walls and ditches) divide the site into at least six distinct zones (Bawden 1977, 1982a). Architectural remains within each of these zones are relatively homogenous and functionally differentiated from those of other areas of the site. One of the zones, designated Plain B, is dominated by two major platform mounds, the Huaca de las Abejas and the Huaca de las Lagartijas, and two smaller civic/ceremonial monuments (Bawden 1977; Conrad 1974:641-740; Lockard 2005). Another zone, Plain A1, is dominated by three large administrative structures (Cercaduras A-C) and 197 associated elite residences (Bawden 1977). The remaining zones are dominated by storage structures and residences, which are differentiated by status (Bawden 1982b). THE PHASE V/LATE MOCHE WORLD Radiocarbon dates from civic/ceremonial and residential contexts indicate that Galindo was largely occupied during the eighth century A.D. (Lockard 2009), which falls within Phase V of Larco’s (1948) Moche ceramic sequence. Recent research in the Jequetepeque Valley has led some archaeologists to conclude that the Moche world was divided into two major regions at this time: one to the north and one to the south of the Pampa de Paijan between the Jequetepeque and Chicama Valleys (Figure 1; Castillo 2001, 2003; Castillo and Donnan 1994). Due to perceived differences in the style and sequence of Moche fine-ware ceramics, these archaeologists now refer to this time as the Late Moche Period, rather than Phase V, in the northern Moche region. The northern Moche region is considered to have been politically independent from the south, and may itself have been divided into multiple polities. The Late Moche Period is contemporaneous with Phase V in the south, and may also include the later half of Phase IV. During Phase IV, the southern Moche region extended as far south as the Huarmey Valley. By Phase V, however, the Moche sphere of interaction is believed to have included only the two northernmost of these valleys (i.e., the Moche and Chicama Valleys). A DESIGN ANALYSIS OF MOCHE FINELINE SHERDS FROM GALINDO Moche Fineline Ceramics Moche fineline ceramics are characterized by dark ochre slip paint applied with fine brush strokes to a light slip background (Donnan 1992:66) or, less commonly, vice versa. The Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo color of the dark slip paint is usually red or maroon, but can also be gray or black, especially during Phase V. The light slip paint is usually cream, but can also be grayish white (especially during Phase V) or have a yellowish tint (Donnan and McClelland 1999:162). Moche fineline painting is most commonly associated with stirrup spout bottles, but also appears on a number of other vessel forms, including spout and handle bottles, jars, dippers, and flaring bowls (i.e., floreros) (Donnan 1992). Phase I and II fineline ceramics are generally decorated with geometric motifs or simple depictions of animals or supernatural beings. During Phases III and IV, geometric designs become progressively less common, and depictions of plants, animals, humans, and supernatural beings become more complex. During Phase III and especially Phase IV, the iconography of Moche fineline ceramics focuses heavily on the activities of elites, including “deer hunting, ritual running, combat, and the bleeding, parading, and sacrifice of prisoners” (Donnan 2001: 129; see also Donnan and McClelland 1999). The artistic canons of Phase V will be discussed in detail below. The majority of the complete Moche fineline ceramics housed in museums throughout the world have been recovered from burials. Unfortunately, few of these burials have been excavated archaeologically. Those that have, however, demonstrate that Moche fineline ceramics “occur in graves of both males and females–almost exclusively those of high status individuals” (Donnan and McClelland 1999: 19). Usually, only one or two vessels are present. This suggests that Moche fineline ceramics “were not produced in great numbers and were seldom available to the common people” (ibid.). Archaeologists have excavated ceramic workshops at several major Moche sites, including the Huacas de Moche (Uceda and Armas 1997), Cerro Mayal (Russell et al. 1994a, 1994b), Pampa Grande (Shimada 1994:195200), and Galindo (Bawden 1977:202-207). No ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) evidence has been found for the production of Moche fineline ceramics, however, at any of these workshops. Moche fineline sherds are sometimes found in Moche middens, “usually at important centers that have associated pyramid and palace complexes” (Donnan and Mc Clelland 1999:19). At Galindo, Moche fineline sherds have been recovered from both low status and elite residences. Fine-ware ceramics have been found in increasingly greater numbers, however, in higher status residences (Bawden 1982b; see below).1 THE GALINDO SAMPLE Although iconographic analyses of Moche fineline ceramics are common, these have almost exclusively been confined to whole or near-whole vessels. No complete Moche fineline ceramics, however, have yet been recovered from Galindo. The sample of Moche fineline ceramics analyzed in this study (the Galindo sample) is therefore composed entirely of sherds. The Galindo sample is actually composed of two distinct sub-samples. The first sub-sample consists of 217 sherds recovered during the Galindo Archaeological Project (G.A.P.), which was directed by the author (Lockard 2001, 2002, 2003, 2005). Of these, 47 were recovered in 2000, 84 in 2001, and 86 in 2002. The second sub-sample is composed of 153 sherds recovered from Galindo by Garth Bawden between 1971 and 1973 (Bawden 1977). The actual sherds recovered by Bawden were not available for this study. During his original ceramic analysis, however, Bawden made detailed drawings of every painted sherd that he recovered. These drawings are black and white, and it is not possible to differentiate between Moche fineline ceramics and other types of painted pottery from the drawings alone. Bawden analyzed every 1 Unfortunately, Bawden did not differentiate between Moche fineline ceramics and other types of Moche finewares in his analysis. - 198 sherd that he recovered (over 23,000), however, and recorded, among other things, the provenience and paint colors of each sherd. The Bawden sub-sample in the present study includes all drawings that could be correlated with these data (i.e., their provenience and paint colors could be determined from Bawden’s notes) and which meet the color criteria for being Moche fineline ceramics as defined above. This subsample includes the majority of the Moche fineline sherds recovered by Bawden, although it is impossible to determine the exact proportion represented. The sample is not biased to any particular proveniences or motifs, although it may be slightly biased toward larger sherds. During the G.A.P., every sherd recovered (4,296) was assigned a number that includes the sherd’s provenience designation (P.D.), field sample (F.S.), and a consecutive sherd number within the F.S. During Bawden’s work at Galindo, all of the sherds recovered were given a provenience code, which includes the excavation unit (denoted by a capital letter), feature or room number, and artifact bag number. For the purposes of the present study, Moche fineline sherds from each sub-sample were sorted by provenience and then consecutively assigned new sherd numbers. Fineline sherds recovered during the G.A.P. were numbered from L1 to L217. Sherds L1 through L47 were recovered in 2000, L48 through L131 in 2001, and L132 through L217 in 2002. Fineline sherds recovered by Bawden that were included in this study were numbered from B1 to B153. The sherds in the Galindo sample come from a variety of contexts, including residences, civic/ceremonial and administrative structures, and surface deposits. In all cases, sherds that conjoin were counted as a single sherd, even if they were found in different proveniences. Sherds that do not conjoin were always counted separately, even if their context, paste, surface treatment, and designs suggest that they were 199 part of the same vessel. In this paper, drawings of select sherds in the Galindo sample are provided. Each sherd is labeled with its new sherd number and its original sherd number (G.A.P. sample) or provenience (Bawden sample). The majority of the Moche fineline sherds in this study are of the Phase V artistic style (see Donnan and McClelland 1999:139185). While some of the sherds have designs similar to those of Phases III and IV (see below), no diagnostic stirrup spout fragments characteristic of these earlier phases have been recovered from the site. It should be noted that a number of the sherds analyzed herein were painted on both the interior and exterior of the vessel. When this is the case, fineline painting only occurs on one side of the vessel. The other side of the vessel is always painted using a different technique, usually a white slip design painted directly on the paste. In the case of sherds that are painted on both sides, only the side with fineline painting is included in the analysis. Results of the Analysis The results of the design analysis are presented below in four sections. In the first section, the proportion of sherds with geometric versus figurative designs is presented. The second section presents the results of a design analysis of stirrup spout fragments, a unique type of sherd decorated with distinctive artistic conventions. The third section presents the analysis of sherds with geometric designs that are not stirrup spout fragments, and the final section presents a subject matter analysis of sherds with figurative designs. Geometric Versus Figurative Designs The first stage in the design analysis was to separate sherds with figurative designs from those with only geometric designs. For purposes of this analysis, sherds were coded as figurative Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo if they depicted: (1) animate objects (i.e., plants, animals, humans, or supernatural beings) or clearly identifiable parts thereof (e.g., a mouth); (2) human artifacts (i.e., tools or accoutrements); or (3) complex, non-repetitive designs without clearly definable geometric elements. Sherds were coded as geometric if they depicted: (1) clearly identifiable, repetitive motifs composed of simple geometric elements (i.e., lines and shapes); or (2) geometric elements that are not part of a larger, complex, non-repetitive design. Sherds in the latter category either depict lines and/or solid areas only (often framing lines, see below), or are very small sherds that most likely depict only a small portion of a larger, unidentifiable geometric motif. It should be noted that sherds coded as geometric do not necessarily bear designs devoid of meaning. On the contrary, it is well established that in many societies, including the Moche, simple geometric designs may symbolize complex concepts. It has been argued, for example, that repeating wave motifs symbolize the ocean and/or rivers, and step patterns represent mountains and/or platform mounds in Moche iconography (De Bock 2003). Such meanings are not explicit, however, and therefore cannot be universally applied. In other words, such shapes may have had different meanings to different artists, and for some artists may not have had any meaning at all. For this reason, inanimate objects found in nature that can be simply rendered (e.g., waves) are not by themselves deemed to be figurative in this analysis. While there is obviously some degree of subjectivity in any attempt to classify designs as geometric or figurative, the criteria above are easily applied and appear to follow the precepts of previous studies in Moche iconography (e.g., Donnan and McClelland 1999; McClelland 1997), although standards for differentiating between figurative and geometric designs are never explicit in these studies. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 200 Type/Subtype Geometric Identifiable Motif Identifiable Motif (stirrup spouts) Framing lines, solid areas, and hatching Geometric elements (i.e., lines, triangles, etc.) only Subtotal Figurative Identifiable subject matter Identifiable subject matter (stirrup spouts) Unidentifiable subject matter Subtotal Both Identifiable geometric motif and figurative subject matter Identifiable geometric motif and unid. figurative subject matter Subtotal N/A (no positive design) Non-Stirrup Spouts Stirrup Spouts Subtotal Indeterminate (too small or badly eroded) Non-Stirrup Spouts Stirrup Spouts Subtotal TOTAL Count Percentage 147 38 58 17 260 39.7% 10.3% 15.7% 4.6% 70.3% 30 2 15 47 8.1% 0.5% 4.1% 12.7% 5 1 6 1.4% 0.3% 1.6% 11 3 14 3.0% 0.8% 3.8% 42 1 43 370 11.4% 0.3% 11.6% 100.0% Table 1: Geometric versus figurative sherds (n=370) As Table 1 demonstrates, 260 sherds in the Galindo sample contain only geometric designs, while only 47 contain only figurative designs. In the case of 43 sherds, it could not be determined whether the design was geometric or figurative because the sherd was either badly corroded or too small. Fourteen sherds did not contain any designs (i.e., they have only a light slip). These sherds were included in the total sample because they were thought to be part of vessels that did contain positive painting. For example, seven of the sherds came from directly on top of a prepared floor located underneath a platform mound (Platform B of the Huaca de las Lagartijas). In this particular provenience, 20 sherds were recovered. On the basis of paste, wall thickness, and surface treatment, all of the sherds appear to come from two Moche fineline vessels. No other type of sherd (e.g., plainwares) was recovered from the provenience. Although the sherds were clearly part of Moche fineline vessels, they could not be conjoined to any of the sherds that contained decoration. Their design content therefore could not be determined with certainty. Finally, six sherds contained both an identifiable geometric motif and a figurative design. Stirrup Spout Motifs Among the many vessel forms represented in the Galindo sample is the stirrup spout bottle. Stirrup spout bottles are characterized by the presence of a cylindrical, hollow arch and vertical upper spout that ascend from the body of the vessel (Donnan and McClelland 1999:20). Because of the distinctive form of the stirrup spout, the artistic conventions used in its decoration are unique in Moche art. For this reason, stirrup spout fragments were analyzed separately from all other sherds (i.e., body sherds and the rim and base fragments of bowls, jars, and floreros). Of the 370 sherds in the Galindo sample, 44 are stirrup spout fragments. Eight distinct stirrup spout motifs were identified, three of which have at least one identifiable type (defined on the basis of minor variations within the motif) (Table 2, Figure 2). In addition, two of the stirrup spout fragments in the sample have no positive design, being covered only by a light 201 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo slip, and one stirrup spout fragment is too corroded to determine what if any motif it once contained. By far the most common stirrup spout motif in the Galindo sample is the single line motif, and the second most common is wavy lines. All other motifs occur on three sherds or fewer. Name Description Count Pct. Single Lines A single, thick line decorates two to four sides of the arch and/or upper spout 21 47.7% Wavy Lines Wavy lines decorate the arch and/or upper spout; Type A is a negative design with perpendicular wavy lines (n=2), Type B is a positive design with perpendicular wavy lines (n=2), and Type C consists of a repeating motif of parallel wavy lines (n=2) 6 13.6% Wave Motif Repeating wave motifs decorate the arch and/or upper spout; Two sherds (Type A) do not include interstitial elements, while one sherd (Other) does 3 6.8% Wavy Ovals Ovals created with wavy lines decorate the arch and/or upper spout; Two sherds (Type A) have parallel long wavy ovals, while one sherd (Other) has perpendicular short wavy ovals 3 6.8% Solid Thick bands of dark paint decorate large portions of the arch and/or upper spout 3 6.8% Double Lines Two thin lines decorate two to four sides of the arch and/or upper spout 2 4.5% Beans A repeating bean motif decorates the arch and/or upper spout; these stirrup spout fragments are considered to be figurative 2 4.5% Step A step pyramid decorates the base of both sides of the arch (where they meet the body) 1 2.3% None No decoration 3 6.8% Indet. Motif could not be determined due to corrosion 1 2.3% Table 2: Distribution of stirrup spout motifs (n=44). Note: one sherd has two motifs. Design Analysis of Geometric Sherds The goal of the third stage of the analysis was the identification of repeating motifs on geometric sherds that are not stirrup spout fragments. Only those sherds containing designs that are clearly geometric were included in the analysis. Of the 326 sherds that were not identified as stirrup spout fragments, 45 contained only figurative designs and were thus excluded from this stage of the analysis. Six sherds contained an identifiable geometric motif and a figurative design and were included in this, as well as the next stage (figurative subject matter) of the analysis. An additional 42 sherds were excluded from the analysis because they could not be classified as geometric or figurative, either because they were badly corroded or too small. Another 11 sherds were excluded because they did not contain any designs. The remaining 228 sherds (the geometric sample) are not stirrup spout fragments and have designs identified as geometric. Eight recurrent motifs were identified in this sample. One or more of these recurrent motifs were identified on 149 of the sherds in the geometric sample. Of the remaining 79 sherds, four contain a repeating motif unique to that sherd (classified as “other repeating motif”), 58 contain lines and/or solid areas only, and 17 could not be classified (due to corrosion or size; Figure 3). Motif 1. By far the most common motif in the geometric sample is Motif 1, which occurs on 94 sherds. Motif 1 is a band with a repeating square ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 202 panel. Each panel is divided into either two triangular halves or four triangular quarters by single or multiple straight and/or wavy lines. Five Motif 1 types were identified on the basis of how the panels are divided (Table 3 and Figure 4). There were several cases, however, in which sherds were identified as containing Motif 1 but not enough of the design was present (as a result of corrosion or size) to assign it to a type. Another characteristic of Motif 1 is the presence of solid or open interstitial elements within the triangular halves or quarters of the panels. Interstitial elements associated with Motif 1 are solid and open triangles, solid and open “L” shapes, solid, open, and mixed step elements, solid and open serrated triangles, and circles (Figures 4 and 5). Type Description Count Pct. Type A The panel is divided into triangular halves by a single wavy line 19 20.2% Type B The panel is divided into four quarters by two perpendicular wavy lines 16 17.0% The panel is divided into triangular halves by two parallel wavy lines The panel is divided into triangular halves by Type D three parallel wavy lines or a central straight line flanked on either side by parallel wavy lines Type C Type E The panel is divided into triangular halves by two central, parallel straight lines flanked on either side by parallel wavy lines Indet. Type could not be determined due to size and/ or corrosion 17 18.1% 13 13.8% 5 5.3% 24 25.5% Table 3: Distribution of Motif 1 types (n=94) Motif 2. The second most common motif in the geometric sample is Motif 2, which occurs on 24 sherds. Motif 2 is a repeating wave that forms a band around the exterior or interior of the vessel. Three Motif 2 types were identified (Figure 6). A single, continuous line forms the repeating wave motif in Type A (Figure 7a-d), and several, discontinuous lines form the motif in Type B (Figure 7e). Types A and B are both associated with interstitial elements that, when present, are at regular locations and intervals along the repeating waves. Interstitial elements associated with Motif 2 are solid and open triangles and solid “V” elements (Figure 6). One sherd classified as Motif 2 was unique and therefore could not be typed (Figure 7f). This sherd has a negative design in which solid, lightcolored waves appear on a dark background. The waves on this sherd, more than any other wave motif identified in the geometric sample, appear to be an ocean “locator” (Donnan and McClelland 1999:59). In Moche iconography studies, locators are objects used in figurative designs to indicate the setting or location in which the activity depicted takes place. If this is the case, the waves on this sherd indicate that the activity depicted on the vessel takes place on or near the ocean. The sherd was not classified as figurative, however, because only waves are visible. Unlike the wave motif on this sherd, most of the designs identified as Motif 2, and especially those with interstitial elements, are highly stylized and occur in bands alongside other repeating geometric motifs, and are thus clearly geometric as defined above. Motif 3. Motif 3, a repeating circle that forms a band around the vessel, was identified on 10 sherds. Three types were identified (Figure 8). In Type A, smaller circles are found along the edge of larger circles (Figure 9a). If the smaller circles are interpreted as holes, Type A appears to depict medallions, reminiscent of the gold (Alva and Donnan 1993: figures 33, 41, 62, 97, 169, 206, 219 and 226) and copper (Uceda et al.1994: figure 8.25) medallions used by the Moche to decorate clothing, earrings, headdresses, and other elite accoutrements. Type A is usually a negative design in which light-colored medallions appear with dark “holes” on a dark background. Type B is composed of repeating, plain circles. This type occurs on only two sherds, both of which have light-colored circles on a dark background. In both cases, the sherds are small and probably in fact depict portions of Type A medallions in which the “holes” are absent (Figure 9b). One sherd classified as Motif 3 was unique and 203 therefore could not be typed (Figure 9c). It has plain circles located within the center of slightly larger circles (i.e., donut-shapes). Motif 4. Motif 4, a repeating spiral motif composed of straight lines at right angles, was also identified on 10 sherds (Figure 9d). Motif 5. Motif 5, of which two types were identified, occurs on 7 sherds (Figure 8). Type A is composed of repeating solid triangles (Figure 9e) and Type B is composed of repeating open triangles (Figure 9f). Motif 6. Motif 6 is a repeating step motif that occurs in a band. Motif 6 has three types (Figure 8). Only in Type A, however, does the motif form a major part of the overall design of the vessel. In Type A, the upper (or outer) step of the motif is everted and is usually larger than the other steps (Figure 9g). The step motifs are either solid or open, and their interiors are decorated with open triangles. Type B is a simple, open, repeating step. The motif forms a thin band around the vessel that divides the overall design into separate areas, which often contain figurative designs (Figure 9h). Type B therefore functions more like a framing line than a major part of the overall design of the vessel (c.f. Donnan and McClelland 1999: figure 1.15). Type C is equivalent to Type B in that it is composed of simple repeating steps and functions like a framing line. In Type C, however, the step motif occurs along the rim of floreros (Figure 9i). Most floreros at Galindo have rims that are notched in a step pattern. When the rim is smooth, however, the notched step pattern is often replaced by a painted version of the same pattern along the rim of the vessel (Motif 6C). Type C is therefore a rim decoration associated with a specific vessel form, the florero. Motif 7. The remaining two recurrent motifs identified in the geometric sample occur on very few sherds, and therefore should not be consid- Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo ered major motifs in the fineline painting tradition at Galindo. Motif 7, which occurs on three sherds, is composed of repeating principal and secondary (or interstitial) elements (Figure 9j). The principal element consists of a subdivided triangular pattern attached to a series of rectangles (containing dots) that form an “L” shape. This element has the appearance of a spear or scepter. The secondary (or interstitial) element, which appears below each of the principal elements, is a subdivided triangle that has the appearance of a shell. The design was classified as geometric because it is repetitive, stylized, composed of simple geometric elements, and the intent of the artist to depict a spear and/or shell is unclear. Motif 8. The final recurrent motif identified in the geometric sample is Motif 8, which occurs on two florero fragments. These fragments are from the same provenience and may therefore be parts of the same vessel. The sherds contain a series of light-colored scallops on a dark background in a band around the interior of the florero (Figure 9k). The design gives the vessel the appearance of a flower. Once again, however, the motif is stylized, repetitive, and the intent of the artist to depict a flower is unclear. Of the remaining sherds in which none of the above recurrent motifs were identified, four contained identifiable repeating motifs not identified on any other sherd (e.g., Figure 10a). Of the remaining sherds on which no repeating motif could be identified, 58 contained lines and/or solid areas only. Many of these sherds are small fragments containing what appear to be framing lines (lines that appear above, below, or between repeating panels and form the perimeter of repeating panels; e.g., Figure 10b) and/or solid areas (thick bands of solid dark paint; c.f. Pimentel and Paredes 2003: figure 9.14c). Others, however, are simple line decorations (e.g., Figure 10c). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 204 In summary, 19 types of eight recurrent motifs were identified in the geometric sample. As argued above, however, some of these motifs appear to be either specialized or rare. Of the 19, twelve types of six motifs occur on multiple sherds from different contexts, appear in large, broad bands or panels, and co-occur with other recurrent motifs. These are Motif 1, Types A-E; Motif 2, Types A and B; Motif 3, Type A; Motif 4; Motif 5, Types A and B; and Motif 6, Type A. These major motifs form the parts in a geometric painting tradition utilized at Galindo. This tradition includes standards of design layout in which major motifs were utilized together in varying combinations, and appear in two to five bands or panels around the exterior (stirrup spout bottles and jars) or interior (floreros) of fineline vessels. Motif 1 Motif 1 Motif 2 3 Motif 3 5 Motif 4 Motif 2 Motif 3 3 5 Motif 4 1 Usually two different motifs were utilized, which alternate when there are more than two bands or panels on the vessel. Sometimes, however, a single motif will occur in multiple bands or panels or more than two motifs will occur on the same vessel. As Table 4 demonstrates, several of the many possible combinations of motifs were identified on sherds in the Galindo sample. Motif 5 Motif 6 Motif 7 1 1 10 1 2 7 1* Motif 8 Other 1* Figur. 1 1 Motif 5 1 1 Motif 6 1 2 TOTALS 7* 1 1 1* Motif 7 3 1* 5 1 9* 1 Motif 8 0 Other 1* 1* 1* Figurative 1 5 6 22* Table 4: Sherds with more than one motif (n=22). Note: one sherd (*) has three motifs. Figurative Subject Matter Analysis The final stage of the design analysis of the Galindo sample consisted of an interpretation of the subject matter of figurative sherds. First, the subject matter of each sherd was determined. Then, sherds depicting the same or similar subjects were classified into three main categories (animals, plants, and human/ anthropomorphs) and various subcategories (Table 5). Over half of the sherds in which a subject matter could be determined depict animals. Of these, birds are the most commonly depicted. Within the bird subcategory, two sherds depict simply rendered bird heads (e.g., Figure 11a). Another two sherds depict elaborately rendered birds, one of which is clearly depicted drinking from a small bowl (Figure 11b). The other is also most likely drinking from a bowl, although most of this portion of the design is missing (Figure 205 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo 11c). All four of these sherds depict birds in a naturalistic manner (i.e., they do not share the attributes of other animals and are not anthropomorphized). There are also a large number of sherds in the figurative sample that depict patterns used by Moche artists to represent bird feathers (e.g., Figure 11d). Feathers rendered in this manner are associated with naturalistic and anthropomorphized birds, as well as with supernatural beings having bird attributes. Subject matter Animals Birds Feathers Bird head (simply rendered) Bird (elaborately rendered, drinking from bowl) Bird (elaborately rendered, drinking from bowl?) Fish Shell Crayfish (supernatural) Deer Animals Subtotal Plants Bean(s) Fruit (ulluchu?) Plants Subtotal Human/Anthropomorphs Humans Human hand Human wearing a a headdress (other accoutrements are also visible) Human (ritual runner?) Nude male ritual runner (prisoner?) Ritual runner (carrying bag) Anthropomorphs Unidentified anthropomorph (part of torso and neck visible) Tools/Accoutrements Headdress (with hand and leg) Headdress (with leg) Earspool Human/Anthropomorphs Subtotal Indeterminate TOTAL Count 9 2 1 1 3 2 1 2 21 7 1 8 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 9 15 53 Table 5: Subject matter of figurative sherds (n=53). Fish are depicted on three sherds in the figurative sample (e.g., Figure 11e), shells are depicted on two sherds (e.g., Figure 11f), and a crayfish is depicted on one sherd (Figure 11g). Lastly, two sherds depict a deer. One is a small fragment that only depicts the deer’s ear (B23, not pictured). The second depicts a deer surrounded by vegetation (Figure 11h). This vegetation is a locator, and indicates that the activity depicted on the vessel takes place in a scrub forest (Donnan and McClelland 1999:104). All of these animals are naturalistic, with the exception of the crayfish. Eight sherds in the figurative sample depict plants. Beans are the most commonly depicted, appearing on seven sherds (e.g., Figure 11i). Based on morphology, the designs depict Lima beans (Phaseolus lunatus). The eighth sherd depicts what appears to be a fruit (Figure 11j). Although only half of the fruit is visible, it appears to be the fruit known in Moche iconography studies as the ulluchu. The ulluchu is often associated with sacrificial themes in Moche iconography (Alva and Donnan 1993: 134), and is clearly distinguishable from other objects. Nevertheless, the modern species that the ulluchu depicts has yet to be convincingly identified (Wassén 1989). The remaining nine sherds on which a subject matter could be determined depict humans, anthropomorphs, or objects related to humans and anthropomorphs (i.e., tools and accoutrements). Five of the sherds contain naturalistic depictions of humans or human body parts. One of these depicts the hand of a human figure behind what may be the headdress or regalia of another figure (Figure 12a). The second depicts the head of a human figure wearing an elaborate headdress (Figure 12b). Other accoutrements are also visible on the sherd. The third depicts both legs and the lower torso of a human figure (Figure 12c). The fourth depicts the face and right side of a human figure (Figure 12d). This figure is nude, and can be clearly identified as male. The man carries a thin, straight object in his outstretched right hand. The last sherd depicts the face and left hand of a human figure (Figure 12e). This person carries a small bag in his or her out- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) stretched hand. In front of the person is the hand of another individual and a flower or starshaped object, which may be a locator. These last three sherds all appear to depict ritual runners. Ritual runners are generally portrayed in long lines, and carry bags, branches, or in rare cases nothing, in their outstretched hands (Donnan and McClelland 1999:128). One of the ritual runners is clearly carrying a bag (Figure 12e), while another may be carrying a branch (Figure 12d). The last sherd is from the same provenience (and probably the same vessel) as the ritual runner carrying the possible branch, and is therefore also likely a ritual runner. This is uncertain, however, as the upper half of the body is not present (Figure 12c). Ritual runners first appear, but are extremely rare, in Phase III (Donnan and Mc Clelland 1999: figure 3.13). They become one of the most common themes in Moche fineline painting during Phase IV, and continue to be popular in Phase V (Donnan and McClelland 1999:128, 180). Based on the fact that he is nude, the person in Figure 12d may be a prisoner. If this is the case, this sherd depicts a scene in the Warrior Narrative, in which warriors were captured, stripped of their clothing, and ultimately sacrificed in rituals such as the one depicted in the well-known Sacrifice Ceremony (Alva and Donnan 1993:127-138; Donnan 1975, 1978:158173; Donnan and McClelland 1999:69, 130131). One sherd in the figurative sample was classified as an anthropomorph. This sherd depicts a figure that cannot be identified because only its upper torso and neck are visible on the sherd (Figure 12f). Finally, three sherds in the figurative sample depict tools or accoutrements, which were included in the human/ anthropomorph category because of their association with these figures (i.e., they are made and used by humans). Two sherds depict headdresses. A human hand and leg are also visible on one of these sherds (Figure 12g), and a - 206 human leg is visible on the second (Figure 12h). The last sherd depicts a round earspool (Figure 12i). The subject matter of the remaining 15 sherds in the figurative sample could not be firmly identified. In most cases, the designs on these sherds resemble figurative objects in Moche iconography. The sherds are very small, however, and not enough of the design is therefore present to firmly establish what is depicted. In some cases, objects could be partially identified, but due to the small size of the sherds the object’s context could not be determined. For example, one sherd depicts the left side of a mouth and lower half of a left eye (B12, not pictured). It could not be determined, however, whether this face belongs to an animal, human, or anthropomorph. As the above analysis demonstrates, the majority of sherds in the figurative sample at Galindo contain naturalistic depictions of plants and animals. Nevertheless, several sherds depict themes, figures, and objects commonly depicted during Phases III and IV that have ideological connotations and/or are related to the activities of elites. As mentioned above, at least one sherd (Figure 11b) and probably a second (Figure 11c) depict a bird drinking from a bowl. According to Donnan and McClelland (1999:136), this theme is related to the Warrior Narrative and symbolizes “the drinking of the captive’s blood” in sacrificial rituals. Another sherd with a design that may be related to sacrifice depicts what is most likely an ulluchu fruit (Figure 11j). Ritual runners are also thought to communicate an ideological message, and appear on two sherds (Figures 12d-e) and possibly a third (Figure 12c) in the Galindo sample. According to Donnan and McClelland (1999:128), ritual runners are one of the most common themes during Phase IV, appearing on 13 percent of the vessels from this phase in the Moche Archive. One of the ritual runners is a nude male, and may be a 207 prisoner (Figure 12d). If so, this sherd depicts a scene in the Warrior Narrative, which culminates in the human sacrificial rituals that legitimated the authority of Moche rulers. Finally, there are at least four sherds in the Galindo sample that depict elite accoutrements (Figures 12b, g-i). The presence of these designs in the Galindo sample demonstrates that, although considerably less common than in Phase IV, the depiction of elites and elite activities continued into Phase V at Galindo. The Context: Moche Fineline and Figurative Sherds Recovered During the G.A.P. The proportion of fineline sherds and fineline sherds with figurative designs from G.A.P. contexts (before refits) is presented in Table 6 (see Bawden 1982b for a discussion of the proportion of Moche fine-ware ceramics in the residential contexts he excavated). Not surprisingly, high and moderate status Moche residences had the highest proportion of fineline sherds. Fineline sherds were considerably less common in low status Moche residences. This indicates that although few of the fineline ceramics at Galindo communicated traditional Moche ideological messages, Galindo elites still maintained tight control over their production and distribution. The proportion of fineline sherds with figurative designs was extremely low in all contexts but one, Room 1 of Structure 52 (Area 311). Structure 52 is a large, moderate status residence located on Plain A2. Four units were excavated just inside the southern entrance. This area was utilized, presumably after the residence was abandoned, as a midden. Within the midden, 62 fineline sherds were encountered. This amounts to 25.2 percent of the total number of fineline sherds that were recovered during the G.A.P.. Of these, 50 percent were classified as figurative. It is likely that this proportion would have been even higher if it were Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo not for the fact that many of the fineline sherds are very small, making it difficult to determine what is depicted on them. In some cases, multiple sherds appear to be from the same vessel. Based on the color of the slip paints and the designs on the sherds, however, at least several different vessels are represented. No more than one figurative sherd was encountered in any other area excavated during the G.A.P., despite the fact that a significant number of fineline sherds were encountered from several of these areas. It is unclear why such a high proportion of fineline sherds and particularly figurative sherds were encountered in Room 1 of Structure 52. What is clear, however, is that the proportion of fineline sherds with figurative designs varies considerably by context at Galindo. Summary The design analysis of Moche fineline sherds from Galindo has revealed that two basic painting traditions were utilized in the decoration of this ware. One of these is a figurative painting tradition in which themes and figures characteristic of Phases III and IV were depicted. The number of these themes and figures were greatly reduced, and naturalistic depictions of plants and animals dominated. Some themes and figures thought to communicate ideological messages were retained, however, most notably ritual runners and birds drinking from bowls. This Phase V painting tradition is hereafter referred to as the figurative painting tradition. The vast majority of Moche fineline ceramics at Galindo, however, were decorated with a geometric painting tradition in which a small number of major motifs were utilized. This tradition also included standard principles of design layout in which the major motifs were combined to form the overall design of the vessels. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Area Area 101 (MLSR) Area 102 (MLSR) Area 103 (SC) Area 201 (HL) Area 202 (HL) Area 203 (MHSR) Area 204 (MHSR) Area 301 (HA) Area 302 (HA) Area 303 (O) Areas 304, 305 & 306 (HA) Area 307, SA 1 (MLSR) Area 307, SA 2 (CR) Area 307, SA 3 (CR) Area 307, SA 4-6 (CR) Area 308 (MLSR) Area 309 (O) Area 310 (MHSR) Area 311 (MHSR) TOTALS Stratigraphic Cut 101 (SC) Huaca de las Abejas (HA) Huaca de las Lagartijas (HL) Moche residential contexts (MHSR & MLSR) Chimu residential contexts (CR) Other (O) TOTALS Moche high and mod. status res. (MHSR) Moche low status residences (MLSR) TOTALS - 208 Fineline Sherds Percentage of Count Diagnostics Figurative Sherds Percentage of Percentage of Diagnostics Finelines Total Count Total Diagnostics 473 452 322 100 29 318 213 58 40 14 30 716 203 164 901 24 0 78 161 473 452 322 100 29 318 213 58 40 14 30 283 203 164 901 24 0 78 161 8 28 18 32 6 44 18 0 4 1 2 10 1 2 0 5 0 5 62 1.7% 6.2% 5.6% 32.0% 20.7% 13.8% 8.5% 0% 10.0% 7.1% 6.7% 3.5% 0.5% 1.2% 0% 20.8% N/A 6.4% 38.5% 0 0 0 0 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 31 0% 0% 0% 0% 3.4% 0.3% 0.5% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0.4% 0% 0% 0% 0% N/A 0% 19.3% 0% 0% 0% 0% 16.7% 2.3% 5.6% N/A 0% 0% 0% 10.0% 0% 0% N/A 0% N/A 0% 50.0% 4296 3863 246 6.4% 35 0.9% 14.2% 322 128 129 18 6 38 5.6% 4.7% 29.5% 0 0 1 0% 0% 0.8% 0% 0% 2.6% Count 2002 180 9.0% 34 1.7% 18.9% 1268 14 3 1 0.2% 7.1% 0 0 0% 0% 0% 0% 3863 246 6.4% 35 0.9% 14.2% 770 1232 129 51 16.8% 4.1% 33 1 4.3% 0.1% 25.6% 2.0% 2002 180 9.0% 34 1.7% 18.9% Table 6: Percentage of fineline and figurative sherds from Galindo contexts. Note: counts are before refits. A COMPARISON OF THE PAINTING TRADITIONS USED AT GALINDO TO DECORATE MOCHE FINELINE CERAMICS WITH THOSE OF CONTEMPORANEOUS MOCHE SITES Pampa Colorada A review of design analyses and published examples of ceramics from other Moche sites has revealed that the geometric painting tradition was not unique to Galindo at this time. On the contrary, ceramics with designs of this tradition have been recovered from a number of Phase V/Late Moche sites throughout the north coast. Their presence is most striking at a small site (ISCH.206:3) associated with several prehistoric roads on the Pampa Colorada, located between the Santa and Chao Valleys in the southern Moche region. Pimentel and Paredes (2003: figure 9.14) have published two near complete (Table 7), and one partial, Phase V stirrup spout bottles recovered from the site. The body of one of the nearly complete vessels is decorated with only thick bands of dark paint on the lower third of the body and upper third of the arch and spout (Pimentel and Paredes 2003: figure 9.14c). The other nearly complete bottle has more complex geometric designs (ibid.: figure 9.14b). The decoration of the vessel’s body comprises two repeating motifs, both of which are major motifs identified in the Galindo sample. The stirrup spout is decorated with thick bands of dark paint, a stirrup spout motif (solid) that was also identified in the Galindo sample. 209 No. Reference 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Form Stirrup Spout Motif Body Motifs/IEs Stirrup spout bottle Geometric (shield and clubs) Motif 1D with Double Open Triangle IEs (2 bands) Motif 2A with Double Open Triangle IEs (1 band) Florero N/A Stirrup spout bottle N/A Ubbelohde-Doering 1983, Plate 56.3 Shimada 1994, Figure 8.12c McClelland 1997, Figure 3 McClelland 1997, Figure 5; republished in Donnan and McClelland 1999, Figure 6.133 Stirrup spout bottle Stirrup spout bottle Stirrup spout bottle Solid Single Lines Wave Motif (Type A) Stirrup spout bottle Wave Motif (Type A) McClelland 1997, Figure 6 Stirrup spout bottle Wavy Ovals (Type A) Florero N/A Stirrup spout bottle Wavy Lines (Type C) Stirrup spout bottle Wavy Ovals (Type A) Stirrup spout bottle Single Lines Stirrup spout bottle Solid Stirrup spout bottle Solid Solid Area Only (bottom third of vessel) Stirrup spout bottle None Motif 1C with Solid Triangle IEs (2 bands) Donnan 1973, Plate 7E; republished in McClelland et al. 2007, Figure 3.169b Shimada 1976, Figure 41; republished in Shimada 1994, Figure 8.11 Shimada 1976, Figure 51; republished in Shimada 1994, Figure 7.35a Donnan and McClelland 1999, Figure 1.8 Donnan and McClelland 1999, Figure 10 6.132 9 11 Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Donnan and McClelland 1999, Figure 6.134 Donnan and McClelland 1999, Figure 6.135 Pimentel and Paredes 2003, Figure 13 9.14b Pimentel and Paredes 2003, Figure 14 9.14c 15 McClelland et al. 2007, Figure 3.169a 12 Motif 1D with Open Step IEs (1 band) Repeating “S” Motif with Open Triangle IEs Motif 1C with Open Step (1 band) and Open Triangle (1 band) IEs Repeating Crescent Motif Motif 1A with Solid Triangle IEs (2 bands) Motif 4 (1 band) Motif 1E with Open Step IEs (4 bands) Motif 1C with Open Step IEs (2 bands) and Motif 3A (2 bands) Motif 1D with Solid Step IEs (2 bands) and Motif 5A (2 bands) Motif 1A with Open Serrated Triangle IEs and Motif 2A with Open Triangle IEs Motif 1A with Open Step IEs (2 bands) and Motif 3A (2 bands) Motif 1E with Solid Triangle (2 bands) and Solid Step (1 band) IEs Motif 3A (2 bands) Motif 1E with Solid Step IEs (2 bands) and Motif 3A (3 bands) Motif 1C with Serrated Triangle IEs (1 band) and Motif 2A with Solid Triangle IEs (1 band) Table 7: Published complete or near-complete Late Moche/Phase V fineline vessels with only geometric designs (n=15) The partial vessel contains at least two bands of Motif 1A with open serrated triangle interstitial elements (ibid.: figure 9.14a). In addition to these vessels, Pimentel and Paredes (ibid.: figure 9.12) provide a photo of several fineline sherds from the surface of the same site. In the photo, geometric motifs can be identified on the five largest sherds. All five depict Motif 2A, and at least three include solid triangle interstitial elements. These sherds provide evidence that Phase V fineline vessels decorated with the geometric painting tradition utilized at Galindo were either traded or produced by people living well to the south of the Moche Valley, an area previously thought to have been abandoned by the Moche at the end of Phase IV (Bawden 1996:263; Shimada 1994:118). Pacatnamu In order to best evaluate the differences between Galindo fineline ceramics and those of other Moche sites, it is necessary to have comparable samples from these sites. To be comparable, however, the sample must include all Moche fineline sherds recovered from a site, including those with geometric designs. A great deal of literature has been devoted to the study of Moche fineline iconography, but the vast majority of this work focuses on figurative designs on complete or near complete vessels (e.g., Donnan 1975, 1978; Donnan and McClelland 1979, 1999; Hill 1998; Hocquenghem 1987; McClelland 1990). Unfortunately, very little attention has been given to geometric designs, and even less to the design analysis of sherds. After an extensive review of the literature on the Moche, only a single design analysis was encountered in which all Moche fineline sherds recovered during archaeological excavations were included. This analysis was performed by Donna McClelland (1997) on a sample of all Moche fineline sherds recovered during excavations at the site of Pacatnamu in the Jequete- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 210 peque Valley between 1983 and 1987 (Donnan and Cock 1997). The sample is composed of 65 sherds, the vast majority of which are of the Phase V style (McClelland 1997:277). The Pacatnamu sample is therefore composed of sherds that are roughly contemporaneous with those of the Galindo sample. The Pacatnamu sample is also comparable to the Galindo sample in terms of context, with no sherds having been directly recovered from burials. According to McClelland (ibid.:265), some of the sherds “may have been from vessels that were associated with burials that had been looted, but others clearly were found in Moche refuse.” The following is a reporting of Mc Clelland’s analysis of the Pacatnamu sample, which is very similar to my analysis of the Galindo sample, and a comparison of her results to those reported above. The most significant difference between McClelland’s analysis and the one presented above is that stirrup spout fragments were not analyzed, because no sherds of this type were found. Geometric Versus Figurative Designs in the Pacatnamu Sample In her analysis of Moche fineline sherds from Pacatnamu, McClelland first divided her sample into three categories: sherds with geometric designs, sherds with figurative designs, and sherds with unidentified elements (mostly very small sherds, classified herein as indeterminate). Table 8 presents the distribution of sherds in each of these categories in the Pacatnamu sample. Type Geometric Figurative Indeterminate Total Count 11 24 30 65 Percentage 16.9% 36.9% 46.2% 100% Table 8: Geometric versus figurative sherds in the Pacatnamu sample (n=65) Geometric sherds make up only 16.9 percent of the sample, while figurative sherds comprise 36.9 percent of the sample. I performed a chisquare analysis on the number of geometric versus figurative sherds in the Galindo and Pacatnamu samples. I excluded undecorated sherds from the Galindo sample, because McClelland did not include these sherds in her sample. I considered sherds with both geometric and figurative designs in the Galindo sample to be figurative, in order to make the test more conservative. The test was performed twice, first on all remaining sherds (X2=78.3; p<.01) and again on all remaining sherds excluding stirrup spout fragments, because the Pacatnamu sample had none (X2= 67.6; p<.01). Both analyses demonstrate a statistically significant difference between the samples at the .01 level. In addition to a significantly greater percentage of figurative designs in the Pacatnamu sample, the proportion of indeterminate sherds (46.2%) is also significantly greater than in the Galindo sample (11.6%). Although the reason for this difference is uncertain, it appears to be because of the nature of figurative versus geometric designs. Figurative designs in Moche iconography are often complex, and either cover the entire surface of the vessel, or are repeated only a few times around the vessel’s surface. Moche geometric motifs, on the other hand, are often small, occurring numerous times as repeating panels or bands. Furthermore, Moche geometric motifs appear to be highly standardized, with only a few geometric motifs (with various types) occurring on numerous vessels. Moche figurative designs, on the other hand, are more varied. As a result, it is typically easier to identify a geometric motif from a small sherd than to determine the subject matter of a small sherd that was part of a large and complex figurative design. The vast majority of McClelland’s indeterminate sherds (McClelland 1997: figures 38 and 39) appear to be parts of complex figurative designs. These sherds were not considered to be 211 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo figurative, however, because the sherds are too small to determine what is depicted. As a result, the proportion of sherds from vessels with figurative designs is likely to be substantially higher than the 36.9 percent of sherds in which a figurative subject matter could be determined. Under the standards I employed in the analysis of the Galindo sample, only one of the sherds in McClelland’s “unidentified elements” category would have been classified as geometric (the sherd depicts a spiral motif, see McClelland 1997: figure 39), while several would have been classified as figurative with indeterminate subject matter. Design Analysis of Geometric Sherds in the Pacatnamu Sample Despite the fact that the Galindo sample is significantly different from the Pacatnamu sample in terms of the proportion of geometric versus figurative designs, a comparison of the geometric motifs present in both samples suggests that similar artistic conventions were employed at the two sites in the painting of geometric designs. All 11 sherds classified by McClelland as geometric depict major motifs identified in the Galindo sample (Table 9). Type Motif 1 Motif 2 Motif 3 Motif 4 Motif 5 Count 8 2 1 1 1 Percentage 72.7% 18.2% 9.1% 9.1% 9.1% Table 9: Distribution of geometric motifs in the Pacatnamu sample (n=11). Note: two sherds have two motifs As is the case in the Galindo sample, Motif 1 is by far the most common, appearing on eight sherds. Among these, one is Type C, three are Type D, and the type of the remaining four could not be determined. Three have solid triangle interstitial elements, two have open triangles, and the interstitial elements of the remaining three could not be determined. Motif 2A appears on two sherds, both with open triangle interstitial elements. Motifs 3A, 4, and 5A are also present, each appearing on a single sherd. Two of the sherds in the Pacatnamu sample contain two motifs. One contains Motif 1C and Motif 2A, and the other contains Motif 1 (type indeterminate) and Motif 3A. The geometric sherds in the Pacatnamu sample also share the design layout characteristics of the geometric painting tradition utilized at Galindo. It is unclear at this time whether these ceramics were produced at Pacatnamu or are trade-wares from Galindo or another Phase V/Late Moche site. In either case, the presence at both sites of Moche fineline ceramics decorated with the geometric painting tradition suggests that the two sites had some degree of interaction. Figurative Subject Matter Analysis of the Pacatnamu Sample As part of her analysis, McClelland identified the subject matter of the sherds with figurative designs in the Pacatnamu sample. There are two sections in the analysis. In the first, she uses the Moche Archives at U.C.L.A. to match sherds to specific themes and figures in Moche fineline iconography. According to McClelland, the Tule Boat theme is depicted on six sherds, the Strombus Monster is depicted on four sherds, and the Triangular Head and Running Figures are each depicted on one sherd. All of these sherds, which make up 18.5 percent of the total sample, can be argued to depict ideological themes or figures, especially the Tule Boat theme, Strombus Monster, and Running Figures (see Donnan 1978; Donnan and McClelland 1999; McClelland 1990). McClelland classified an additional ten sherds as depicting “nonspecific design elements”. These sherds could not be correlated with specific Moche themes or figures, but their content could be determined to varying degrees. These sherds, according to ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) McClelland, depict an additional possible Strombus Monster, a lower leg, a flower, a possible runner, feline pelage markings, feathers (on two sherds), fox-headed snakes, a human/ anthropomorphic head, and a possible anthropomorphized fish. If her interpretations of the subject matter of these sherds are correct, at least five additional sherds could be argued to depict ideological themes or figures (the possible Strombus Monster, the possible runner, the foxheaded snakes, the anthropomorphic head, and the possible anthropomorphized fish). McClelland classified an additional two sherds as figurative with indeterminate subject matter. The majority of the sherds in the Galindo figurative sample depict naturalistic plants and animals. The majority of the sherds in the Pacatnamu figurative sample, on the other hand, depict portions of complex supernatural themes and figures. Some of these designs appear to be part of the traditional figurative painting tradition (e.g., a ritual runner; McClelland 1997: figure 21). Other sherds in the Pacatnamu figurative sample, however, are characteristic of another Late Moche figurative painting tradition, known as the “Moro Style,” which is unique to the northern Moche region (Castillo 2001:319-320, 2003:101-102; Donnan and McClelland 1999:139; see below). - 212 spout bottle with two bands of Motif 1C, one of which has open triangle and the other of which has open step interstitial elements (ibid: figure 7.35a). In between is another repeating motif, composed of repeating crescents, which has been identified at Galindo but is not in the Galindo sample (the drawing could not be correlated with provenience and/ or paint color data). The stirrup spout on the vessel does not appear to have been decorated. The second vessel is a florero with a single band of Motif 1D with open step interstitial elements (ibid.: figure 8.11). A second band below depicts a repeating “S” motif (identified on only a single sherd in the Galindo sample) with open triangle interstitial elements. The final vessel is another stirrup spout bottle (ibid.: figure 8.12c). The stirrup spout is decorated with single lines, and the body is decorated with only a single band of Motif 4. It is unclear at this time what percentage of the geometric motifs that decorate Pampa Grande fineline ceramics are major motifs in the geometric painting tradition utilized at Galindo. The above analysis of the three vessels published in Shimada’s book on Pampa Grande does demonstrate, however, that at least some geometric motifs were utilized at both sites. Galindo and Pampa Grande therefore appear to have had at least some degree of interaction. San José de Moro Pampa Grande The geometric painting tradition was also utilized in the decoration of ceramics recovered from the site of Pampa Grande, although their prevalence is still unclear. All of the geometric designs on Moche fineline ceramics from Pampa Grande published by Shimada (1994) in his book on the site, however, are motifs that occur on sherds from Galindo (Table 7). All but one of the motifs in this admittedly small number of ceramics are major motifs in the Galindo sample. Only three vessels with geometric designs are published in the book. The first is a stirrup Interestingly, Moche fineline ceramics decorated with the geometric painting tradition are almost completely absent at the Late Moche site of San José de Moro. McClelland et al. (2007) have recently analyzed a sample of 255 Moche fineline vessels or large sherds that are attributable to San José de Moro with varying degrees of certainty.2 Of this sample, only two 2 For 21 percent of the sample, the vessel or sherd was excavated at San José de Moro. For 43 percent of the sample looters recall finding the vessel and could describe its context and/or location at the site. For 5 percent of the 213 stirrup spout bottles (less than one percent) contain solely geometric designs (ibid. 2007: 151). Furthermore, only one of these bottles was recovered from San José de Moro. This bottle has two bands of repeating Motif 1C panels with solid triangle interstitial elements (ibid.: figure 3.169a). The second bottle in the San José de Moro sample, which was recovered from a grave at the site of Cenicero in the Santa Valley, has two bands of repeating Motif 1D panels with double open triangle interstitial elements on either side of a band of repeating Motif 2A designs with the same interstitial elements (ibid. Figure 3.169b). The lack of Moche fineline ceramics with designs of the geometric painting tradition at San José de Moro may indicate that Galindo did not have as much interaction with the site as it did with other sites on the north coast. Alternatively, it may be the result of the fact that most, if not all, of the ceramics in the San José de Moro sample were recovered from tombs or caches (ibid.:7), whereas none of the sherds in the Galindo sample are from these sorts of contexts. Almost all of the fineline vessels recovered both illegally and archaeologically from San José de Moro were decorated with the Moro Style of fineline painting. According to Luis Jaime Castillo (2001:319-320; see also Castillo 2003:101), the Moro Style differs from the Phase IV figurative painting tradition in the southern Moche region in the following ways: (1) a reduction in the number of iconographic themes; (2) a new emphasis on maritime themes; (3) a high frequency of depictions of the “Priestess” or “Supernatural Woman”; and (4) sample the vessel was painted by an artist who had painted another vessel that was excavated at the site. For 7 percent of the sample the vessel was recorded in the hands of a dealer or knowledgeable collector who was confident that it was from the site. For the remaining 23 percent of the sample, no provenience was available, but the vessel form and painting style are consistent with known vessels from the site.(McClelland et al. 2007:7). Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo an almost complete disappearance of human beings in favor of supernatural beings. In addition, the scenes depicted are “few and repetitive: the Burial Theme, the combat between supernatural beings, the navigation of the reed rafts, the Priestess on a crescent moon, and the anthropomorphized wave” (Castillo 2001:320; see also Castillo 2003:101). None of the figurative sherds in the Galindo sample could be identified as depicting any of these scenes. In the Pacatnamu sample, on the other hand, McClelland identifies five sherds (1997: figure 11) as being part of tule boat scenes (the “reed raft” of Castillo), and identifies another sherd (ibid.: figure 13) as being part of a “rayed crescent tule boat” (the “crescent moon” of Castillo). Both of these scenes are associated with the Priestess in the fineline painting tradition at San José de Moro (Castillo 2003:102). In addition, the Moro Style is characterized by extremely elaborate decoration. Background filler elements were often used to fill in the empty spaces around the principal figurative designs. In general, the figurative designs in the Galindo sample are not as elaborate as those of San José de Moro. The figurative designs in the Pacatnamu sample are generally more elaborate than those of Galindo, but not as elaborate as those of San José de Moro. Background filler elements are absent in the Galindo sample, present but rare in the Pacatnamu sample, and common at San José de Moro. Non-provenienced Phase V/Late Moche Fineline Vessels with Only Geometric Designs Despite the fact that hundreds of complete or near complete Phase V/Late Moche fineline vessels have been published to date, very few of these contain only geometric designs (Table 7). In addition to the vessels described above (McClelland et al. 2007: figures 3.169a and 3.169b; Pimentel and Paredes 2003: figures 9.14b and 9.14c; Shimada 1994: figures 7.35a, ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 8.11 and 8.12c), a review of Moche literature found only three publications with such vessels. In her design analysis of fineline sherds from Pacatnamu, McClelland (1997) publishes, as comparatives, three complete Phase V stirrup spout bottles with only geometric designs. As all of the geometric designs identified by Mc Clelland in the Pacatnamu sample are major motifs in the geometric painting tradition utilized at Galindo, it is not surprising that all of the geometric designs on the comparative vessels are as well. In addition, however, the stirrup spouts on these three vessels are all decorated with stirrup spout motifs identified in the Galindo sample. An additional whole vessel from Pacatnamu, which depicts two bands of Motif 1A with solid triangle interstitial elements, has been published by UbbelohdeDoering (1983: Plate 56.3). In their seminal work on Moche fineline painting, Donnan and McClelland (1999) publish five complete Phase V vessels with only geometric designs, one of which (figure 6.133) is the same vessel as one of the comparatives in McClelland’s (1997: figure 5) analysis of Pacatnamu sherds. Four of these are stirrup spout bottles attributed to a single artist (the “Geometric Painter”). All of the designs on the bodies of these bottles are major motifs identified in the Galindo sample. All four vessels also contain stirrup spout motifs utilized by Galindo artists. In addition to these stirrup spout bottles, Donnan and McClelland (1999: figure 1.8) also publish a complete florero with only geometric designs. Both of the motifs on this vessel are major motifs identified in the Galindo sample. Unfortunately, the context of all but one of these vessels (Ubbelohde-Doering 1983: plate 56.3) is unknown. It is possible that all seven of these vessels came from Galindo itself. As a result, these vessels unfortunately provide little information on the distribution of the geometric painting tradition utilized at Galindo. - 214 CONCLUSION The preceding literature review indicates that there were at least three painting traditions utilized in the decoration of Phase V/Late Moche fineline vessels. Two of these, the geometric painting tradition and the traditional figurative painting tradition, were utilized at Galindo. The Moro Style was not utilized at Galindo, and appears to be unique to the northern Moche region. The preceding literature review also indicates that the geometric painting tradition was widespread, although never as dominant at other sites as it was at Galindo, with the possible exception of the small site (ISCH.206:3) on the Pampa Colorada. Because Moche fineline sherds are rarely analyzed or published, however, it is unclear exactly how far to the north and south the tradition extended, and how extensive it was in these areas. Its frequency at most of the sites in which it has been documented is also unknown. The presence of the geometric painting tradition in the decoration of Moche fineline ceramics at sites such as Pacatnamu and Pampa Grande, however, indicate that there was at least some degree of interaction between Galindo and these sites. As more data on the presence and prevalence of the various painting traditions utilized to decorate Moche fineline ceramics at different Phase V/Late Moche sites are obtained and published, the extent of this interaction will no doubt become increasingly clear. The form of interaction that existed between Moche sites with fineline ceramics decorated with the various Phase V/Late Moche painting traditions also remains unclear at this time. In order to address this issue, compositional analyses are required to first determine whether sherds decorated with these traditions were produced at a single or multiple locations. If the analyses indicate that ceramics decorated with a certain tradition were produced at a single location, then trade is indicated. If trade 215 is indicated, the preponderance of the geometric painting tradition at Galindo relative to other major sites indicates that they were most likely produced at or near Galindo. If compositional analyses indicate that fineline ceramics decorated with a particular painting tradition were produced at multiple locations, on the other hand, then open lines of communication and/ or copying from a distance are indicated. The degree of standardization in motifs and design layout indicates that the former is more likely the case for the geometric painting tradition. While compositional analyses are crucial to understanding the form of interaction that existed between sites with fineline ceramics decorated with the various Phase V/Late Moche painting traditions, more chronometric dates are required to understand their origin and spread. Chronometric dates are in fact completely lacking at some Phase V/Late Moche sites, and inadequate at others. More chronometric dates from Phase V/Late Moche contexts will help elucidate the origin and spread of the various painting traditions of this time, which will lead to a better understanding of the political, cultural, and trade relationships that existed between the sites that produced them. Establishing such relationships will in turn aid archaeologists in their quest to write the final chapters in the history of the Moche people. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my dissertation committee, Garth Bawden (chair), Jane Buikstra, the late Robert Santley, and Luis Jaime Castillo, for their support during my dissertation research, of which this paper is a part. I would also like to thank George Gumerman IV for his support and collaboration during the Galindo Archaeological Project (G.A.P.). The G.A.P. was largely funded by a National Science Foundation Dissertation Improvement Grant (BCS-0120114). Additional financial support was provided by two Maxwell Center for Anthropology research grants, a Student Research Allocation Committee grant awarded by the Graduate and Professional Student Association at the University of New Mexico, and a Graduate, Research, Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Project, and Travel grant awarded by the Office of Graduate Studies at the University of New Mexico. Finally, I would like to thank my friends and family, and especially my wife, Hannah D. Lockard, and our daughters Fiona and Sarah, for their unwavering and all-encompassing support. REFERENCES CITED Alva, Walter and Christopher Donnan 1993 Royal Tombs of Sipán. Los Angeles: Fowler Museum of Cultural History, University of California, Los Angeles. Bawden, Garth 1977 Galindo and the Nature of the Middle Horizon in Northern Coastal Peru. Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts. 1982a Galindo: A Study in Cultural Transition During the Middle Horizon. 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Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks. 1999 Moche Fineline Painting: Its Evolution and Its Artists. Fowler Museum of Cultural History, University of California, Los Angeles. Friedrich, Margaret 1970 Design Structure and Social Interaction: Archaeological Implications of an Ethnographic Analysis. American Antiquity 35(3):332-343. Hill, Erica 1998 Death as a Rite of Passage: The Iconography of the Moche Burial Theme. Antiquity 72:528-538. Hocquenghem, Anne Marie 1987 Iconografía mochica. Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. Kaulicke, Peter 1992 Moche, Vicús Moche y el Mochica Temprano. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines 21(3):853-903. Larco, Rafael 1948 Cronología arqueológica del norte del Perú. Biblioteca del Museo de Arqueología Rafael Larco Herrera, Hacienda Chiclín. Buenos Aires: Sociedad Geográfica Americana. Lockard, Gregory 2001 Informe de excavaciones del Proyecto Galindo 2000. Unpublished preliminary report presented to the Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Lima. 2002 Informe de excavaciones del Proyecto Galindo 2001. Unpublished preliminary report presented to the Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Lima. 2003 Informe de excavaciones del Proyecto Galindo 2002. Unpublished preliminary report presented to the Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Lima. 2005 Political Power and Economy at the Archaeological Site of Galindo, Moche Valley, Peru. Ph.D. dissertation, University of New Mexico. 2009 The Occupational History of Galindo, Moche Valley, Peru. Latin American Antiquity 20(2):279302. McClelland, Donna 1990 A Maritime Passage from Moche to Chimu. In The Northern Dynasties: Kingship and Statecraft in Chimor, edited by Michael Moseley and Alana Cordy-Collins, pp. 75-106. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks. 1997 Moche Fineline Ceramics at Pacatnamu. In The Pacatnamu Papers, Volume 2: The Moche Occupation, edited by Christopher Donnan and Guillermo Cock, pp. 265-282. Fowler Museum of Cultural History, University of California, Los Angeles. 217 McClelland, Donna, Donald McClelland, and Christopher Donnan 2007 Moche Fineline Painting from San José de Moro. Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California at Los Angeles. Mosely, Michael 1992 The Incas and their Ancestors. London: Thames and Hudson. Pimentel, Victor and María Isabel Paredes 2003 Evidencias Moche V en tambos y caminos entre los valles de Santa y Chao, Perú. In Moche: Hacia el final del milenio, Volume 1, edited by Santiago Uceda and Elias Mujica, pp. 269-303. Universidad Nacional de Trujillo, Perú and Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú-Fondo Editorial3. Plog, Stephen 1980 Stylistic Variation in Prehistoric Ceramics: Design Analysis in the American Southwest. New Studies in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pozorski, Shelia 1979 Prehistoric Diet and Subsistence of the Moche Valley, Peru. World Archaeology 2(2):163-184. Redman, Charles 1977 The “Analytical Individual” and Prehistoric Style Variability. In The Individual in Prehistory: Studies of Variability in Style in Prehistoric Technologies, edited by James M. Hill and Joel Gunn, pp. 41-53. New York: Academic Press. Rowe, John 1960 Cultural Unity and Diversity in Peruvian Archaeology. In Men and Cultures, Selected Papers, 5th International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, edited by Anthony F. C. Wallace, pp. 627-631. Philadephia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1962 Stages and Periods in Archaeological Interpretation. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 18(1):40-54. Russell, Glenn, Banks Leonard, and Jesús Briceño 1994a Producción de cerámica Moche a gran escala en el valle de Chicama, Perú: El taller de Cerro Mayal. In Tecnología y organización de la producción de cerámica prehispánica en los Andes, edited by Izumi Shimada, pp. 201-227. Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. 1994b Cerro Mayal: Nuevos datos sobre producción de cerámica Moche en el valle de Chicama. In Moche: Propuestas y Perspectivas, edited by Santiago Uceda and Elias Mujica, pp. 181-206. Travaux de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines 79. Trujillo, Perú: Universidad Nacional de La Libertad-Trujillo and Lima: l’Institut Français Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo d’Études Andines and Asociación Peruana Para el Fomento de las Ciencias Sociales. Shimada, Izumi 1976 Socioeconomic Organization at Moche V Pampa Grande, Peru: Prelude to a Major Transformation to Come. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Arizona, Tucson. 1994 Pampa Grande and the Mochica Culture. Austin: University of Texas Press. Ubbelohde-Doering, Heinrich 1983 Vorspanische Graber von Pacatnamú, NordPeru. Materialen zur Allgemeinen und Vergleichenden Archäologie 26. Berlin: Verlag C.H. Beck, Berlin. Uceda, Santiago and José Armas 1997 Los Talleres Alfareros en el Centro Urbano Moche. In Investigaciones en la Huaca de la Luna 1995, edited by Santiago Uceda, Elias Mujica, and Ricardo Morales, pp. 93-104. Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional de La Libertad-Trujillo, Perú. Uceda, Santiago, Ricardo Morales, José Canziani and María Montoya 1994 Investigaciones sobre la arquitectura y relieves polícromos en la Huaca de la Luna, valle de Moche. In Moche: propuestas y perspectivas, edited by Santiago Uceda and Elias Mujíca, pp. 251303. Travaux de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines 79. Universidad Nacional de La LibertadTrujillo, Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos, and Asociación Peruana Para el Fomento de las Ciencias Sociales (Lima). Wassén, Henry 1989 El “ulluchu” en la iconografía y ceremonias de sangre Moche: La búsqueda de su identificación. Boletín del Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino 3:25-45. Watson, Patty Jo 1977 Design Analysis of Painted Pottery. American Antiquity 42(3):381-393. Willey, Gordon 1948 Functional Analysis of Horizon Styles in Peruvian Archaeology. In A Reappraisal of Peruvian Archaeology, edited by Wendell Bennett, pp. 815. Society for American Archaeology Memoir 4, Menasha, Wisconsin. 1953 Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the Viru Valley, Peru. Smithsonian Institution Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 155. Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 1: Map of the north coast of Peru, indicating the location of sites mentioned in the text. - 218 219 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Figure 2: Examples of stirrup spout motifs and their associated types. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 3: Distribution of motifs in the geometric sample (n=228). Note: Some sherds have more than one motif (see Table 4). - 220 221 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Figure 4: Examples of Motif 1 types and interstitial elements. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 5: Distribution of Motif 1 interstitial elements (n=94). Figure 6: Distribution of Motif 2 types and interstitial elements (n=24). - 222 223 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Figure 7: Examples of Motif 2 types and interstitial elements. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 8: Distribution of Motif 3 (n=10), Motif 5 (n=7), and Motif 6 (n=16) types. - 224 225 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Figure 9: Examples of Motifs 3-8 and their associated types. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 10: Examples of sherds with other repeating motifs and sherds with lines and solid areas only. - 226 227 - Lockard: Moche fineline sherds from Galindo Figure 11: Examples of sherds depicting animals and plants. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 12: Examples of sherds depicting humans, anthropomorphs, and tools/accoutrements. - 228 MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE: A STUDY OF TWO NASCA MOTIFS ANA NIEVES Northeastern Illinois University INTRODUCTION Studies of Nasca art (100 B.C.-A.D. 750) have largely focused on the slip-painted fineware of this civilization. It is generally accepted that these polychrome vessels are carriers of religious ideology. The analysis of this culture’s art has included the identification and definition of descriptive types (e.g.: Proulx 2006; Roark 1965; Seler 1961) as well as iconographic studies based on comparative archaeological data (Carmichael 1992) or on ethnographic analogies (Proulx 2001).1 Through these approaches, the importance of agriculture and fertility and the association of death imagery with agricultural abundance has been well documented. In this study I focus primarily on the eyeshaped navel on the Anthropomorphic Mythical Being as it is depicted in Phases 3, 4, and 5 of the Nasca sequence, and on a related arrangement I am calling the Corn Configuration. I propose that the eye motif is a sign that refers to sprouting potential and seed-like qualities. Through an analysis of substitution and abbreviation patterns, I demonstrate that the meaning of this eye-shaped sign is applicable to different figure types, so that it is not an exclusive trait of the Anthropomorphic Mythical Being, but carries this meaning regardless of where it is depicted. Nasca artists used the eye sign as an indicator of plant forms (phytomorphs). This identification is in agreement with what we know about Nasca mythical iconography, due to the clear association between many mythical 1 The history of the research of Nasca art has been thoroughly summarized by Silverman and Proulx (2002). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 229-247. beings and agriculture (see Carmichael 1992, 1994; Proulx 1989). However, thus far iconographic studies have relied only on iconic2 representations of plants, fruits, and vegetables as signifiers of agricultural abundance, failing to acknowledge the possibility of a more complex metaphoric strategy involving signifiers that do not resemble the signified. WHOLENESS AND FRAGMENTATION Before embarking on an analysis of the eyeshaped navel on the Anthropomorphic Mythical Being and the Corn Configuration, it is important to address the relationship between Nasca painted representations per se and the objects on which they are depicted, because this affects how viewers experience Nasca art in general. The relationship between painted images and the ceramic vessels that support them has been largely omitted from studies and interpretations of Nasca iconography. The main reason for this oversight is possibly that iconographers rely on line drawings for the analysis of Nasca images (for example, Figures 1a, 1b, 8-12). In part this is due to the easier reproduction of line drawings (vis-à-vis photographs) in publications as well as the “readability” of the figures as a whole, with all their identifying attributes. The main problem with using such drawings is that information is invariably lost. Rollout drawings, in particular, disregard the three dimensionality of the vase and the relationship 2 I am using the term “iconic” in its most traditional and basic definition in art historical writing, which is to equate the term with the naturalistic representation of an object. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) of the painted figures to the shape of the vessel. For example, there are Nasca bowls that depict fish in their interiors, as if one were looking into containers full of water while fish swim inside them (Proulx 2006:150-151). The artists who painted these bowls took the experience of the viewer looking at them into account, but this is lost in a line drawing of the same fish motif. In a similar vein, one could argue that the relationship between the painted image and the shape of the vessel also adds a level of complexity to the representation of Nasca mythical beings,3 which is also lost in line drawings. A recurring figure in Nasca iconography, the Anthropomorphic Mythical Being (Figures 1-4), is a masked creature that has received many names in various publications. Henceforth I am simply referring to this being as AMB, because this is the abbreviation used in Proulx’s Sourcebook of Nasca Ceramic Iconography (Proulx 2006). The AMB is always depicted with a mouth-mask and a headdress, round ear ornaments, and a necklace.4 It is often shown holding or carrying trophy heads and/or holding a club. The AMB often wraps around the exterior of vessels. When this is the case, its entire body is not visible at once. Because of the practicality of the rollout drawing in describing the main traits in the iconography, we have grown accustomed to seeing the entire body simultaneously, as a whole (Figures 1a and 1b), but this is rarely the experience of the viewer when holding an actual object. To view the entire AMB, the viewer must rotate the vessel (Figures 2-4). As one portion of its body is visible, others are hidden. One could, therefore, see the very identifiable face of the AMB (Figures 2a, 3a, 3 In studies of Nasca art the term “mythical beings” refers to elaborate creatures that combine a number of elements such as a necklace, mouth-mask and a forehead ornament (Silverman and Proulx 2002:137). 4 Donald Proulx (2006:62-79) outlined the variations in which this being appears in Nasca art. - 230 and 4a), but not the objects on its body. Conversely, one could also see the torso and a portion of the figure’s streamer or extension (Figures 2b, 3b, and 4b) without a clear view of the head. In Figure 3b, for example, the image simply appears to consist of a series of horizontal bands with other motifs on them. The main figure is not immediately apparent and could even be overlooked by an uninformed viewer. However, the smaller motifs on its body are easy to read and immediately identifiable (heads, banded layer, single eye). From this side it is impossible to tell that the eye is the navel of the main figure, but its central location makes this motif stand out. This is a sharp contrast from rollout line drawings of this motif where the eye gets lost as a “secondary” motif within the larger body of this being. In rollout drawings (Figure 1a) the eye lacks the emphasis it has when the body of the AMB wraps around a vessel. The result of this obstruction is, to some degree, a fragmentation of the body of the AMB, where seemingly “secondary” motifs dominate the composition, at least when seen from one side. Fragmentation allows the "secondary" motif to exist on its own, becoming the focal point of one side of the vessel (Figures 2b and 3b). From this viewpoint, the wholeness of the AMB's body seems irrelevant, as the focal point has shifted to this eye-shaped motif. In her study of Paracas Necropolis embroideries, Dwyer (1979) discussed a similar situation where principal figures and “secondary” figures compete for the viewer’s attention in Early Intermediate Period 2 (EIP 2) embroidered motifs. According to Dwyer: There may be such a multiplication of secondary forms that the main figure itself is difficult to discern. . . In some cases, the principal figure seems to be merely a vehicle for carrying these multiple motifs, and is constructed merely by the juxtaposition of many secondary thematic elements. In 231 - Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs other cases, a secondary figure may have such significance for the design that it is greatly enlarged and has secondary figures of its own. Since the secondary elements seem to carry a substantial part of the design’s meaning, the artist’s focus was upon rendering each of them as carefully and as clearly as possible (ibid.: 121). The aesthetic described by Dwyer in EIP 2 embroideries is the same as that of Nasca slippainted pottery representations described above. The fact that the main figure wraps around the vessel and that visibility of the figure is partially obstructed adds some importance to the “secondary” motifs on this being. The eye-shaped navel, often assumed to be a “secondary” motif, is the focal point of the composition on one side of the vessel. The fragmentation of the AMB through the partial obstruction of its body, as described above, occurs primarily in Phase 3 (e.g. Proulx 1968: plate 1a), Phase 4 (e.g. Proulx 1968: plate 2b), and Phase 5 (Figures 2-4) of the Nasca sequence. During Phase 5, it coexists with another type of fragmentation, best explained as a pars pro toto representation of some mythical beings (e.g. the Bloody Mouth motif as a representation of an abbreviated Mythical Killer Whale motif). In Nasca 5 pars pro toto representations, the wholeness of the mythical being is not relevant, and only portions of this being become the focal point. It can be argued that fragmentation of Nasca mythical beings also occurs in late Nasca phases, where the repetition of “secondary” motifs cause the virtual dissolution of the main figure's body. Catherine Allen (1981) attempted to work with this particular characteristic of Nasca art by applying a linguistic approach to the imagery. Allen described Nasca art as: a complex and highly structured iconographic system. In other words, one may recognize a finite set of design motifs, which are interrelated according to recognizable combinatory rules (Allen 1981: 44).5 She admitted that there are limitations in the study of Nasca art, however, because the referents for many of the Nasca figures may not be obvious to the audience. According to Allen: in Nasca iconography we have access to the syntactic dimension of a semiotic system; we have very limited access to the semantic dimension; and the pragmatic dimension is closed to us (Allen 1981:46). In her analysis of the structure of Nasca signs, Allen nevertheless defined some motifs as major motifs and others as “secondary”. In this structure: subsidiary elements have a kind of adjectival function, apparently ‘modifying,’ or providing information about, the major motifs (Allen 1981:47). She focused on how two of these motifs, the mouth-mask and the trophy head, were used within the larger figures, arguing for the employment of visual metonymy in Nasca art. Allen’s study is innovative in her attempt to draw attention to these motifs, and in proposing a methodology that would elucidate the internal 5 Recent evidence suggests that Nasca polychrome ceramics were manufactured in restricted locations during the early Nasca phases. These wares were likely to have been manufactured at Cahuachi and redistributed to other locations (Vaughn and Neff 2000; Vaughn et al. 2006). Religious specialists, according to Vaughn and Neff (2000), were active in pottery manufacture. If this is the case, then the consistency and regularity in Nasca iconography could be explained by its centralized production and limited number of artists/priests involved in the creation of these vessels. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) logic of Nasca images. The approach to be demonstrated here is closely related to Allen’s approach, because it also involves the analysis of the internal structure of Nasca imagery and demonstrates a metonymic relationship between signs. I also focus on the internal relationship between signs (the combinatory rules), because this structure sheds light on associations that Nasca artists themselves made. However, I push Allen’s ideas even further and argue for the existence of recurring Nasca symbols in which the signifier does not resemble the signified. Even when plants or vegetables are not represented in a naturalistic manner alongside Nasca mythical beings, the simple addition of these subtle signs would have served to evoke the ideas of vegetation and plants to the initiated audience. The fragmentation that occurs when the larger figures wrap around vessels allows these signs to be viewed independently from these mythical beings. Because these signs carry their own meanings and associations, they not only can exist as independent symbols, but their meaning is also transferable to other beings. THE EYE-SHAPED SEED MARKER There have been various hypotheses proposed to explain the significance of the AMB in Nasca art. The AMB is also known by other names, depending on the interpretations supported by each scholar. María Rostworowski (1992), for example, identified the AMB as the god Con, a coastal deity who turned the coast into a desert. This god is described as having no bones and having the ability to move swiftly across large distances and perhaps even fly (ibid.: 21). The characteristics that lead Rostworowski to associate the AMB with Con include the fact that the AMB sometimes looks as if it is flying, with its body extended horizontally, as well as the occasional representation of the AMB with wings. Based in part on the same traits, Ralph Cané (1985) argued that this figure represents a shaman in flight. Other scholars preferred a less - 232 specific term to refer to this being. Proulx’s (1968, 2006) name for this being, the Anthropomorphic Mythical Being, emphasizes the human qualities of its body. Roark (1965) also argued that the earlier versions of this being represented masked men, while later versions depicted supernatural beings. According to Roark, although other mythical beings are composite creatures, this being’s body is purely “human” (ibid.: 17).6 This stands in direct opposition to Seler’s (1961 [1923]) identification of this figure as a Cat Demon due to the shape of its mask that resembles whiskers. However, because of the occasional depictions of this being holding or carrying plants, Seler also refers to it as a Vegetation Demon, one of the “Bringers of Foodstuffs” (ibid.: 206). Proulx separated the AMB into types, based in part on the “signifier” or streamer attached to each AMB. Although most were associated with animals, there is one type of AMB that clearly includes a plant “signifier”. I support the idea that the AMB is a composite creature, and that one of its primary non-anthropomorphic traits is that of a seed or plant. However, I argue that this figure could still represent a plant or seed even when plants are not naturalistically represented. A close inspection of the motifs that are associated with the AMB will substantiate this proposition. Although the relationship of the AMB to agriculture is visible in its association with the sprouting head motif that is occasionally shown on the AMB’s back (Figures 1a, 1b, and 4b), a recurring symbol which is by far more subtle gives this figure phytomorphic qualities that are present even when other plants or vegetables are not. This trait, which appears very often on the torso of the AMB, is the eye-shaped navel. The navel is not usually represented on the 6 According to this author, the “signifier” (streamer that is attached to the back of the AMB) is the only portion of this creature that has any non-anthropomorphic characteristics. 233 standing AMBs but on the depictions of this being in an extended pose, belonging to Phases 3 (e.g. Proulx 1968: plate 1a), 4 (e.g. ibid.: plate 2b), and 5 (Figures 2-4). It is rare to find the eye-shaped navel among winged AMBs, but it is present in some of such representations. When present, the eye-shaped navel is usually large enough to be immediately identified by the viewer. The identification of the navel as an eye is made here based on its appearance. It is usually lens shaped, although there are examples of circular eye-shaped navels. The interior of this shape is always white, outlined with a dark contour, and has a dark dot (pupil) in the center. When this eye-shape navel is lens shaped, the pointed ends are aligned to one of the dark stripes that run along the torso of the AMB. Although there are several ways that Nasca artists represented eyes, especially to differentiate between the eyes of trophy heads and those of mythical beings, there is a connection made by Nasca artists between the AMB’s own eyes and its eye-shaped navel as they usually have the same shape within a single cup (see Figures 1a, 2, and 4, for example). Few scholars have mentioned the eye-shaped navel or speculated on its significance. Seler (1961: 191) described it as an eye or a hole. Roark simply points out that the navel is “drawn in the same manner as the eyes” (Roark 1965:22) but does not give any reason for this association. Although at first this motif seems peculiar, the significance of this type of marking is evident if one considers the many representations of seeds in Nasca art (Figures 5 and 6). These motifs, which have been labeled as beans, are usually depicted in the shape of a drop with a pointed end. According to Proulx: Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs ed. The oval-shaped scar or hilum, where the seed was originally attached to the pod, is clearly drawn on the edge of the bean (Proulx 2006:164). The hilum is depicted as an outlined semicircular form around a dark spot. In fact, this resembles an eye with an eccentric or pendant pupil. The resemblance to an eye does not appear to be coincidental, because some beans are even represented with two hila (Figure 7), an impossibility in nature. Visually, however, the pairing of the hila makes this type of seed resemble a head. These drop-shaped motifs are usually referred to as beans. However, I prefer to use the more generic term “seeds”. The pointed end on these seeds shows that Nasca artists were not attempting a naturalistic depiction of a bean or a seed (beans do not have sharp points), but a very abstracted or stylized one.7 Often, this point is emphasized by the addition of a line that separates this portion of the seed from the rounded lower portion. Sometimes the point is painted a different color than the rest of the seed, making this pointed form stand out even more (see Figures 6 and 7). Evidence that the hilum marker on these seeds is shown as, or compared to, an eye can be found on Figure 8, which depicts an extended figure with a drop-shaped seed as part of its body. In this representation, the hilum is shown attached to a stem that takes the form of two serpents. More importantly, however, the hilum is executed exactly in the same way as the upturned eyes of the main figure.8 Furthermore, 7 These motifs are so abstracted that they have confused scholars such as Seler (1961), who identified them as dates. 8 [these] are always drawn in multiples, with one end of the seed pointed and the opposite end somewhat larger and more round- In Figure 8 the eye-shaped navel repeats the shape of the main figure’s eyes as well as the eye shown on the breechcloth. It is likely that the breechcloth eye is another fertility reference due to its strategic placement on the genital area. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) the eye-hilum is located in the middle of this figure’s torso, where one would expect to find a navel. The hilum is the point of union between seed and plant, an important nexus crucial for the seed’s ability to live and eventually germinate. Since the navel can also be seen as a point of attachment, its association with a hilum demonstrates a visual parallel between seeds and humans. Iconographic evidence further supports the identification of the eye-shaped navel as a seed marker on the AMB specifically. On one example published by Seler (1961), shown on Figure 9, a very identifiable shape of a seed substitutes for the AMB’s body. In this case the bean’s hilum, done in the shape of an upturned eye, also coincides with the placement of the navel. The stripes on the bean echo the longitudinal bands on the torso of the AMB (Figures 1-4). In other words, Figure 9 shows the longhand version of the AMB’s torso. In other representations of the AMB (such as those seen in Figures 1a and b), the eye-hilum marker, without the rest of the bean’s shape, stands in for an abbreviated bean or seed. This is a clear example of visual synecdoche, a part (the hilum) standing for the whole (the seed). At the same time, by placing the eye-hilum on the AMB, the artists have symbolically charged this figure with agricultural references. This navel-eye is also a metaphor, because an eye does not naturalistically represent a navel or a seed. In the example on Figure 1b, the eye-hilum relates another anthropomorphic being to a seed. In this image, the AMB holds a smaller anthropomorphic figure that is wearing neither clothing nor ornaments. It has a clear eye-shaped navel, however. This is a decapitated individual who also happens to be sprouting corn out of its neck and chili peppers from its fingertips. The eye-shaped navel not only ascribes the sprouting potential of a seed to the AMB, it also does this for the decapitated individual. - 234 The eye-shaped navel is therefore a symbol that relates the Nasca AMB to a seed or, at the very least, attributes plant-like qualities to this being, even when other iconic representations of plants are not present. Another aspect of the AMB’s iconography that supports this association between this figure and seeds or plants involves the depiction of mice that are often shown approaching the AMB or nibbling parts of its body (Figure 1b, for example). According to Proulx, rodents like these are most often depicted: nibbling on corncobs with their large jaws. . . They are almost always painted black, on a white background. Rodents are never painted singularly; they always occur in multiples, in imitation of their natural proclivity to live in packs (Proulx 2006:144145). Undoubtedly the Nasca had observed the behavior of mice in agricultural fields and were familiar with the threats they posed. In his discussion of rodent imagery in Moche art, Steve Bourget stated that rodents: represent probably the most dangerous pest for preindustrial agriculture. The reproductive cycle of rodents is very rapid; on average, the gestation period is about 20 days, and the female will give birth to up to 8 pups per litter. The pups reach maturity in 5 to 8 weeks. A single female may produce up to 56 offspring annually. Therefore, in optimal conditions, a single pair of rodents and their offspring may produce a population of more than 50 rodents in less than 120 days, a period corresponding to the average time needed for maize to reach maturity. . . A small population of rodents at the beginning of the agricultural season could thus literally, physically, and metaphorically outgrow the crops and de- 235 stroy everything long before harvest time (Bourget 2006:145-146). These depictions of multiple rodents eating crops are, therefore, showing a rather dangerous scenario. Through the interchangeable representation of the mice eating corn-cobs and the AMB, Nasca artists have established a visual link between the AMB and the seeds within the corn-cob. However, I would argue that the juxtaposition of the AMB and the rodents is comparable to other juxtapositions of death and agricultural fertility imagery in Nasca art (e.g. Sprouting Heads and Harvester figures). The fertility of mice depends on the crop, but their abundance also threatens to destroy it, so life and death are again related concepts embodied in the AMB. It is important to point out that even when plants are not naturalistically represented, the eye-shaped navel as seed marker is always a reminder of this AMB’s plant-like qualities (see Proulx 1968: plate 2, 1989: plates xxvi-xxviii; Townsend 1985: figure 20; inter alia). Any attempt to categorize Nasca iconography should include this eye-shaped sign as a reference to agriculture and fertility,9 even if the eye is not an iconic reference to plants in any way. However, this is not the only example in Nasca art in which a seemingly anthropomorphic figure also becomes phytomorphic through the incorporation of specific signs on its body. A related case 9 A recently excavated Nasca 5 jar from La Tiza (Conlee 2007) depicts a plant emerging from the top of a trophy head. The plant has two eye-shaped signs on a striped surface, which Proulx correctly identified as the AMB's striped tunic (ibid.: 443). It is interesting to note that, in this particular example, the eye-shaped navel has been doubled. By having the eye appear twice, the sign is no longer read as a navel on a torso. In this case, it is clearly read as eyes on a plant. The addition of these eyes to the plant turns the plant into a living being, but their presence also reinforces the identification of this as a plant that can produce seeds and, therefore, the eyes refer to seeds, sprouting, and agricultural abundance. Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs involves the iconography of the Nasca Mythical Harvester. THE CORN CONFIGURATION Harvesters are a common motif on Nasca vases. They stand frontally, wear a conical or pointed hat, and hold plants or “agricultural tools” in their hands. Roark (1965:26) described the Harvester figure (Figure 10) as a human, not a mythical, figure due to the absence of animal traits on its body, as well as the relatively small amount of ornament proliferation10 seen with this figure. However, Patrick Carmichael (1994) argued that these are not simply depictions of people involved in agriculture, but are instead representations of the dead, closely associated with agricultural abundance and fertility. He based this association with death on the lines that often decorate the mouths of Harvester figures (resembling the spines which go through the lips of trophy heads), their upturned eyes (also part of trophy head representations), and the markings on their chests (which make these figures appear skeletal). According to Carmichael, these images portray the dead bringing the products of the harvest. Proulx (1989:150) pointed out that there is a more elaborate type of Harvester that, besides having the conical hat and plants, also has a necklace that is associated with mythical creatures as well as a face that is “painted with spots” (ibid.: 150). He named this type of figure the Mythical Harvester (Figure 11). The Mythical Harvester differs from regular depictions of Harvesters. This figure’s eyes are wide open, much like the eyes of the AMB. Its lips are not shown with spines, unlike those of regular Harvesters. Skeletal markings are not shown on its body either. These are the essential characteristics with which to relate this figure to 10 Proliferation refers to the extensions, rays, volutes, and other motifs that radiate from figures in Nasca art beginning with Phase 5. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) representations of the dead, as Carmichael did with other Harvester figures. At the same time, the Mythical Harvester’s pointed hat, posture, and plants are definite indications that this figure is a more elaborate version of the Harvesters. Carmichael did not address the iconography of the Mythical Harvester in his study. One of the most revealing versions of the Mythical Harvester, shown in Figure 11, is in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago. The image of this Mythical Harvester appears wrapped around the bottom of a cup. It wears the conical hat and a necklace, and holds plants of different types.11 In this particular example of the Mythical Harvester, the artist has established a relationship between the figure and the corn-cobs that adorn its waist. Each corn-cob is marked with an X, which represents the leaves wrapped around the cob. Also in each corn-cob, individual kernels are depicted as circular shapes. The Mythical Harvester on this vase also has an X on its torso. The shape of its hat repeats the shape of the cob. Consistent with this figure’s iconography, this Mythical Harvester’s face is covered with round spots or dots. Although Proulx interprets these dots as facial paint “possibly representing decorations worn during harvest festivals” (Proulx 2006:93), I propose that the equation made between the shape of this Mythical Harvester and the shape of corn-cobs indicates that the dots on the face of the Mythical Harvester correspond to the dots on the corn-cob, i.e. the kernels. At least in part, Nasca artists represented the Mythical Harvester as an anthropomorphic corn-cob. Although there are several ways in which Nasca artists represented corn, this particular artist purposefully repeated the same traits on both the larger figure and the corn-cobs on its body. This combination of traits (the X marking, the 11 Unlike the images of the AMB, the Mythical Harvester is often assigned a specific sex by Nasca artists, because a penis is sometimes suggested by the inclusion of a fruit or plant in the pubic area (in this case, a chili pepper). - 236 circular spots as corn kernels, and the pointed Harvester hat) constitutes what I am defining here as the Corn Configuration. At least one of these traits, along with the necklace, is always present on the Mythical Harvester, associating this figure with the shape of corn. Although there may be subtle changes in the different motifs shown on its body, variations of figure can still be cross-referenced with the Art Institute Mythical Harvester. This is the most widely reproduced example, although other versions have been published by Tello (1959: figure 105) and by Rickenbach (1999:341-342). Interestingly, the X marking is not limited to representations of corn and Mythical Harvesters. Some beans or drop-shaped seeds are also decorated with an X (Proulx 2006: figure 5.231). Another motif that has the X marking is the kidney-shaped fruit (Proulx 2006:165-166). An Effigy Harvester in Figure 12 differs in some ways from the Art Institute example. This Harvester does not have the X or the conical hat, but it still displays dots on its face. It is also shown holding corn. Furthermore, its eyes are located within two depictions of corn-cobs. The artist has placed corn-cobs (which are full of seeds) over the eyes of the main figure, equating both. The juxtaposition of eyes and corn-cobs reinforces the eye-seed metaphor. It is interesting to note as well that the pointed shape of the Harvester hat (Figures 1012) parallels the pointed shape of a seed in Nasca art. Although speculative, I believe that further research may indicate a connection between this shape and the concept of fertility or potential for sprouting. An example of the Effigy Harvester, published by Zuidema (Figure 13) shows this figure with corn-cobs around the eyes and the facial kernel markings. Below the streamers that emerge from its mouth, the artist reinforces the plant/seed symbolism through the inclusion of 237 an eye-shaped navel marking. This is the only Mythical Harvester identified in the literature as a corn-related deity. Zuidema (1972:50) called this figure a Maize god due to the cobs around its eyes. However, the eye-shaped navel and the facial kernel markings also reinforce this figure’s association with seeds and plants. As was demonstrated with the eye-shaped seed marker, Nasca symbols do not necessarily resemble their referents. Therefore, other plants need not be shown for the Corn Configuration to symbolize agricultural fertility. A cup in the collection of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos in Lima (Figure 14) is probably the best example of this. In this representation, the central figure, which wraps around the bottom of the cup, has a necklace and wears a pointed hat. Two figures cross to form an X over its face. These characteristics alone relate this central figure to the Corn Configuration. However, the shape of the hat and the X marking are not the only plant symbols here. Not only does the body of the figure also have an eye-shaped navel, but the two smaller figures that cross each other display seed markers. In fact, the artist makes a small visual pun with the seed marker, because the eyes of the larger figure are also the navels of the smaller figures. The crossed figures have even been provided with an extra navel so that the viewer associates one pair of eyes with the central figure and still sees a navel on each of the crossed figures. It is important to note that there are no other references to agriculture on this cup. No plants, fruits, or vegetables are represented in a naturalistic manner on this vessel. Yet, due to the incorporation of the Corn Configuration and the seed markers, the observer, already initiated in this subtle symbolism, can understand that agricultural abundance is very much a part of this representation.12 12 Ethnographic and linguistic evidence from the Andean region provide comparable examples for the visual argument presented here. For instance, the link between the Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs CONCLUSIONS Several conclusions can be drawn from the identification of the seed marker and the Corn Configuration. The fragmentation of the Nasca mythical beings’ bodies that occurs as a result of the placement of the figures around the cups allows these signs to exist independently of the larger figures. These signs can, therefore, exist and carry meaning independent of the larger figures, a meaning that is transferable to other figures as well, as is demonstrated here. Although the Corn Configuration is specific in its direct references to the shape of a corncob, the seed marker is not a naturalistic representation of a bean or seed. The eye-hilum is shown on the tear-shaped motif that is usually assumed to be a bean, and yet it would be careless to call the eye a “bean marker” because: (1) it is represented alongside the Corn Configuration as well, and (2) the AMB is clearly associated with corn when depicted with rodents eating its body. The eye as a sign seems to indicate sprouting potential, the essence of a seed, more than a specific type of seed. eye and agriculture is also present in the Quechua language. The word ñawi, which means “eye,” can refer to the nodule from which something sprouts (Margot Beyersdorff, personal communication, 1998) or to a seed or even a spring (Classen 1993:110). Ñawi can also refer to dents or holes, but always in relation to plants or vegetables. Examples of this are the “eyes” of the potato, the black holes on bark, and the holes in the ground into which seeds are deposited (Herrero and Sánchez Lozada 1983: 258; Beyersdorff 1984:67). Furthermore, the ñawi corn and the ñawi potato refer to the seed corn and the seed potato, i.e. the seed separated to start the crop (Margot Beyersdorff, personal communication, 1998). In Quechua the eye is, therefore, associated with sprouting, agriculture, and the seeds themselves. According to Classen (1993:19), the Aymara term nayra evokes similar associations. Finally, like the Andean concept of mallki, a term that refers to both trees and ancestors, the AMB and the Mythical Harvester relate plant forms and humans, as well as life and death (ibid.: 89-90; González Holguín 1952:632). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) The incorporation of the eye-shaped seed marker and the Corn Configuration into the bodies of the AMB and the Mythical Harvester is important for the understanding of these Nasca supernatural beings. These signs are not simply appendages or decorating elements; they transform the beings of which they are part. Therefore, one of the essential aspects of the AMB and the Mythical Harvester is that of plants. However, these figures are not simply associated with plant forms, they are plants. While both the AMB and the Mythical Harvester have strong connections to death iconography, life and fertility are represented on their bodies through the incorporation of the eyeshaped seed marker and/or the Corn Configuration. Like seeds, which appear to be dry and dead only to become green, moist, and full of life when planted, these beings embody the agricultural cycle of life from death13 even when other naturalistic depictions of plants are not present. The link between the eye, agriculture, and death is also present in a Nasca motif identified by Proulx as motif TH-3 or Symbolic Eye Form of Trophy Head (Proulx 2006:109), part of the iconography of Nasca Phases 5 and 6. Fragmentation is particularly important during Nasca 5, as pars pro toto representations are common in the iconography alongside the type of fragmentation described above. Proulx described this Symbolic Eye as an abbreviated trophy head, consisting only of the upturned eye and carrying cord (Figure 15). It seems to be significant, however, that the eye is used as a substitution for the entire head, and even more significant that the eye has an upturned or pendant pupil. As it is demonstrated above, drop-shaped seeds also have a pendant or eccentric pupil as a hilum. Because this is a trait of trophy head iconography, this motif seems to fully conflate 13 Salomon and Urioste (1991:16) discuss the importance of the life cycle of plants in relation to that of humans and the significance of this relationship to the treatment of ancestors among Andean groups. - 238 the trophy head with the seed. In fact, this could be an abbreviated version specifically of the Sprouting Head motif. The eye-shaped sign continues to be used as part of the visual vocabulary of Nasca artists through Nasca Phase 7 (see ibid.: 109-111). Although later phases of Nasca art need further study, as a research hypothesis I propose that the eye sign maintains these same meanings and associations throughout the rest of the Nasca sequence, regardless of the changes in style. The seed marker and the Corn Configuration are both icons and symbols. The use of the eye to stand for the whole seed also involves a synecdochic relationship. At the same time these motifs act as symbols of agriculture and fertility, transforming their wearers even when naturalistic fruits and vegetables are not depicted. Formerly, the lack of representations of plants on some Nasca polychrome vessels has been used as evidence of the dichotomy between warfare and agriculture in Nasca art (Roark 1965; Proulx 1989), yet to the initiated observer, the simple representation of an eye may have been sufficient to evoke the ideas of seeds, plants, sprouting potential, or agricultural abundance. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The ideas in this article were originally presented at a seminar led by Dr. Terence Grieder at the University of Texas at Austin. A later version of that paper was presented in 2000 at the Nineteenth Annual Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory. Dr. Donald Proulx and Merchant Adams read versions of this manuscript in various stages of completion. REFERENCES CITED Allen, Catherine 1981 The Nasca Creatures: Some Problems of Iconography. Anthropology 5:43-70. Beyersdorff, Margot 1984 Léxico agropecuario quechua. Cusco: Centro de Estudios Rurales Andinos “Bartolomé de las Casas”. 239 Bourget, Steve 2006 Sex, Death, and Sacrifice in Moche Religion and Visual Culture. Austin: The University of Texas Press. Cané, Ralph 1985 Problemas arqueológicos e iconográficos: Enfoques nuevos. Boletín de Lima 37:38-44. Carmichael, Patrick 1992 Interpreting Nasca Iconography. In Ancient Images, Ancient Thought: The Archaeology of Ideology (Proceedings of the 23rd Annual Chacmool Conference), edited by A. Sean Goldsmith, S. Garvie, D. Selin, and J. Smith, pp.187-297. Calgary, Alberta, Canada: University of Calgary Archaeological Association. 1994 The Life and Death Continuum in Nasca Imagery. Andean Past 4:81-90. Classen, Constance 1993 Inca Cosmology and the Human Body. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Conlee, Christina A. 2007 Decapitation and Rebirth. Current Anthropology 48:438-445. Dwyer, Jane P. 1979 The Chronology and Iconography of Paracas Style Textiles. The Junius B. Bird Pre-Columbian Textile Conference (May 19th and 20th, 1973), edited by Ann Pollard Rowe, Elizabeth P. Benson, and Anne Louise Shaffer. Washington, D.C.: The Textile Museum and Dumbarton Oaks. González Holguín, Diego 1952 [1608] Vocabulario de la lengua general de todo el Perú llamada lengua qquichua o del inca. Lima: Imprenta Santa María, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Herrero, Joaquín and Federico Sánchez de Lozada 1983 Diccionario quechua: Estructura semántica del quechua cochabambino contemporáneo. Cochabamba, Bolivia: C.E.F. Co. Proulx, Donald 1968 Local Differences and Time Differences in Nasca Pottery. University of California Publications in Anthropology 5. Los Angeles: University of California Press. 1989 A Thematic Approach to Nasca Mythical Iconography. Faenza: Bollettino del Museo Internazionalle delle Ceramiche di Faenza 75(4-6):141158, plates XXIII-XXXI. 2001 Ritual Uses of Trophy Heads in Ancient Nasca Society. Ritual Sacrifice in Ancient Peru, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson and Anita G. Cook. Austin: The University of Texas Press. Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs 2006 A Sourcebook of Nasca Ceramic Iconography: Reading a Culture Through its Art. Iowa City: The University of Iowa Press. Rickenbach, Judith 1999 Nasca: Geheimnisvolle Zeichen im Alten Peru. Vienna: Museum für Völkerkunde. Roark, Richard Paul 1965 From Monumental to Proliferous in Nasca Pottery. Ñawpa Pacha 3:1-92, Plates I-XVI. Rostworowski, María 1992 Pachacamac y el señor de los milagros. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. Salomon, Frank and George L. Urioste 1991 The Huarochirí Manuscript: A Testament of Ancient and Colonial Andean Religion. Austin: The University of Texas Press. Seler, Eduard 1961 [1923] Die buntbemalten Gefässe von Nasca im südlichen Peru und die Hauptelemente ihrer Verzierung. In Gesammelte Abhandlungen zur Amerikanischen Sprach und Altertumskunde. Graz, Austria: Academische Druck- U. Verlagganstalt. Silverman, Helaine, and Donald Proulx 2002 The Nasca. Malden, Massachusetts and Oxford, England: Blackwell Publishers. Tello, Julio C. 1959 Paracas, Volume 1. Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos and New York: Institute of Andean Research. Townsend, Richard F. 1985 Deciphering the Nasca World. The Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies 11(2):117-139. Vaughn, Kevin and Hector Neff 2000 Moving Beyond Iconography: Neutron Activation Analysis of Ceramics from Marcaya, Peru, an Early Nasca Domestic Site. Journal of Field Archaeology 27(1):75-90. Vaughn, Kevin, Christina A. Conlee, Hector Neff, and Katharina Schreiber 2006 Ceramic Production in Ancient Nasca: Provenance Analysis of Pottery from the Early Nasca and Tiza Cultures through INAA. Journal of Archaeological Science 33:681-689. Zuidema, R. T. 1972 Meaning in Nasca Art: Iconographic Relationships Between Inca, Huari, and Nazca Cultures in Southern Peru. Årstryck 1971, pp. 35-54. Göteborg, Sweden: Göteborgs Ethnographical Museum. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 240 Figure 1a and 1b: Line drawings of two vessels depicting the Anthropomorphic Mythical Being (AMB) with the Sprouting Head motif (after Carmichael 1994: figures 17 and 19). Figure 2a (left) and 2b (right): Anthropomorphic Mythical Being wrapped around a double-spouted vessel. Peru, Nasca culture, vessel, date unknown, ceramic and pigment, 4c inches (10.5 cm) high, 7e inches (19.4 cm) wide, Kate S. Buckingham Endowment, 1955.2127, The Art Institute of Chicago. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago. 241 - Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs Figure 3a (left) and 3b (right): Anthropomorphic Mythical Being around a jar. Peru, South Coast, Cahuachi, Nasca Culture, Collar jar, ceramic and pigment, 5 inches (12.7 cm) high, 5½ inches (13.8 cm) wide, S.B. Williams Fund and Edward E. Ayer Endowment in memory of Charles L. Hutchinson, 1956.1178, The Art Institute of Chicago. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago. Figure 4a (left) and 4b (right): Anthropomorphic Mythical Being around a bowl. Peru, Nasca culture, bowl, ceramic and pigment, 3e inches (9.2 cm) high, 5½ inches (14 cm) wide, Kate S. Buckingham Endowment, 1955.1933, The Art Institute of Chicago. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 242 Figure 5: Vessel depicting seeds. © 1953 The Field Museum, A94576, object number 170527. Figure 6: Vessel depicting seeds, with points highlighted in black.© 1953 The Field Museum, A94580, object number 170536. 243 - Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs Figure 7: Depiction of seed with two hila (from Proulx 1968: plate 24b). Figure 8: Extended figure with a seed as part of its torso (from Seler 1961: figure 403). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 9: Anthropomorphic Mythical Being with a seed as part of its torso (from Seler 1961: figure 404). Figure 10: Harvester Figures (after Carmichael 1994: figures 15 and 13). - 244 245 - Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs Figure 11: Mythical Harvester Figure and detail of corn-cobs on its waist. Shallow flared bowl, 10.8 cm high, 1955.1929, ©The Art Institute of Chicago, (drawing by Joanne Berens; after Townsend 1985: figure 7). Figure 12: Effigy Harvester without the conical hat (from Tello 1959: figure 92). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 13: Effigy Harvester, Museum of World Culture, Sweden (acquisition number: 35.32.3; from Zuidema 1972: figure 9). Figure 14: Composition with multiple figures (after Tello 1959: lámina LXXXV). - 246 247 - Nieves: Two Nasca Motifs Figure 15: Motif TH-3: Symbolic Eye Form of Trophy Head (Proulx 2006:109; from Seler 1961: figure 202). EARLY COTTON NETWORK KNOTTED IN COLORED PATTERNS Grace Katterman California Institute for Peruvian Studies (CIPS) Since the beginning of fabric production on Peru’s south coast, knotting and network have been integral to the body of textiles (Engel 1963: 30-51; Gayton 1967:6-9; King 1965:223224, 236; O’Neale 1932:62-66, 1942:157-159; Yakovleff and Muelle 1932:34-50). When reporting on early textiles from Hacha, Gayton (1967:6) noted that netting techniques were considerably more advanced than those of weaving. While there are numerous types of early netting from Peru, this article seeks to bring only one of them to attention, network from the south coast that was knotted in colored cordage. With their advanced knowledge of dyeing yarn in an enormous range of colors (Gayton 1961: 115), it is little wonder that early coastal people of ancient Peru incorporated the colored patterning of knotted network into their artistic and practical endeavors. The major focus of this report is on four ancient fishing nets of remarkable size, design, and coloration. All are close to six meters in length and are double-sided. That is, they are shaped like long sacks that open across the top and are closed along the sides and bottom. All are constructed of cotton cordage knotted in a meshwork of simple, overhand knots forming blocks (rectangles) of various colors. Irregular shaped appendages open into the bottom of the nets (Figures 1-4). A colleague, Nanette Skov, and I first became aware of these extraordinary nets in June 1997 while working in textile conservation at the Museo Regional de Ica. Their owner, Sr. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 249-275. Guillermo Cabada of Nazca, sought treatment for them through the museum and Skov was referred to him. A heavy encrustation of salt weighted and embrittled the net cordage, obscuring the patterns and endangering their fragile structure. Before treatment, Skov tested the dyes and determined that they were not fugitive. The only place large enough to contain the nets was a swimming pool at the home of a local hotel owner. There Skov immersed the nets in clean water to dissolve the salts, rinsed them, and laid them out on the deck to dry. When wet, the colors of the net patterns deepened significantly. Brilliant images of birds, fish, plants, animals, and other motifs, knotted in an array of contrasting purple, turquoise, cream, and orange cordage, entirely covered the surface of two of the nets. The other two had been knotted in large colored rectangles, without images. As the nets dried, the depth of their coloration rapidly disappeared. While the nets were drying after treatment, I took photographs (Figures 5-11) and asked questions about their origin. They were so large it was impossible to capture the full scope of their appearance with the camera from close up. Not only was their size and coloration unique, but the fact that there were four of them was somewhat overwhelming. Having a previous acquaintance with ancient fishing nets from the Acarí Valley, I hoped to study how the knots were tied, how the colored images were created, and retrieve other pertinent technical information. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) According to the owner, all four nets came from an isolated section of beach north of the mouth of the old Ica River. The Pan American Highway veers away from the coast through this region to pass through the cities of Ica and Nazca. Despite the lack of roadway through the rough coastal terrain, the region is a popular fishing area for local people and evidently the discovery of the nets took place during such an expedition. Skov and others who visited the region with Cabada said that the site was about two kilometers south of a large cave near the water’s edge (personal communication). Skove recalls walking south from the cave to an area with a large shell mound. Past it, she was shown the remains of a few walls in the sand. the area was fronted by a small natural inlet from the ocean where she watched a local fisherman catch fish by hand in the shallow water. In a published reportof the coastal region from the Pisco River on the north to the Ica River on the south, Frédéric Engel describes the area by the cave (1991:151-153) and includes a profile of it and the hill behind it in figure 126. He indicates the cave as Site VI-550 on his map in the end-fold places a cluster of sites abut 1.5 to 2 km. south of the cave. These incude the shell mound (VI-580) and two other sites (VI560 and VI-565). Engel notes only shells or shells and ceramic fragments at these sites. Cabada did not know if the site where he found the nets was one Engel described, or a previously unknown site. While the Ica River seldom flows to the coast today, early settlements suggest that its lower regions were more fertile in the distant past. Cabada has stated that three of the nets were stored together in a pit in the sand where they had been dropped, one on top of the other. The pit was about a meter and a half deep and lined with a dark tar-like substance that kept it - 250 from caving inwards. An offering of three small gourds and the leg bone of a llama were placed on top of the last net. The dark stain from the decaying llama bone is visible in several places on the left side of Net 1. A niche in the side of the pit held pelican feathers, perhaps in homage to the bird's expert fishing abilities. The pit was adjacent to a series of rock-walled, oval-shaped rooms. Net 4, the most torn and faded, was found in a walkway adjoining the oval-shaped rooms. Many broken and faded pieces of similarly patterned netting lay discarded in the sand along the wall of a nearby plaza. The following year, I arranged to take photographs of the nets from the second story balcony of a local school. Even at this distance, I experienced difficulty in covering their entire lengths and widths with a regular lens and the resulting photos are composites (Figures 1-4). At the time, Cabada was in the process of opening a small museum in Nazca that featured the nets and other marine related items and trade goods found in the same region of the south coast. He called it the Museo Arqueológico de Nazca. The enterprise was on the south side of the ovalo (traffic circle) on the Pan American Highway. It remained in operation only a few months. DESCRIPTION OF THE NETS Net 1. Net 1 measures 5.9 m in length and 2.64 m in width, including the half-circular appendage at bottom center (Figure 1). The appendage is actually a large rectangle, gathered along the sides to fit as it was knotted to the main section. The body of the net is composed of blocks (rectangles) of colored images so closely knotted that the tip of my little finger barely fitted inside the meshwork. A row of double-sided knotting in white cordage joins the perimeter of each block to its neighbors. This white cordage can be followed throughout the nets as it knots the sides of each block to adjoin- 251 ing ones (Figure 6). In addition, remnants of a heavier, wider-spaced mesh surrounds the tops of the nets (Figure 7), enlarging into a rectangular extension at each end (Figure 8). The same images are repeated throughout the net many times in the same size and color scheme. Plants and seaweed, in orange or purple cordage on a white background (Figure 9) are the most numerous. Fish, in purple with orange eyes on a cream background, are also well represented (Figure 10), as are birds. The latter are turquoise with white outline and orange eyes on an orange background (Figure 11). The humpbacked animal (Figure 12) and the simplified sun-face (Figure 13), in purple with a cream outline on an orange background, are rarely represented. The fox (Figure 14), in purple with orange eyes on a white ground, is also rare. In comparison with charts in the Munsell Book of Color (1973), the coloration in the net (when dry) compares with the following range of hues: purple: 5RP-5/4 and 714; orange: 2.5YR-616, 6/8, and 7/4; turquoise: 2.5B-8/2; and cream: 2.5Y-8/2. The smaller images are scaled to half, a fourth, or a third the size of the larger ones so that the various sizes of knotted images fit well together, like patchwork. For instance, the bird motif (Figure 6, upper right) is twice the length of the fish (Figure 6, lower right and left). The fox (Figure 14) is the same length as the bird, but half its width, and so forth. The images are not always easy to see in the black-and-white photographs because of the similarity of their grayscale values. Holding the photographs at arm's length allows better differentiation. For more clarity, Figures 12, 13 and 14 are drawings, rather than photographs, of the images. Not all images in the nets are represented in the illustrations or the photographs incorporated into this paper. Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Net 2. Net 2, with a similar half-circular appendage at bottom center, is composed of the same knotted images that appear in Net 1. This net is 6.1 m long and 2.67 m wide, including the central bag. A check of the color hues with Munsell Book of Color provides the following comparisons: turquoise: 2.5B-7/2; purple: 5RP5/ 4; orange: 10R6/6 and 5YR-6/6; and cream: 2.5Y-8/2. While all the nets show holes in the knotwork, only Net 2 shows repair to broken areas. The broken areas were not re-knotted with cotton cordage, but repaired with woolen yarn crudely looped a number of times over the edge of the breakage and pulled tight. The colored cordage was pre-dyed before tying. The simple overhand knots that make up the nets were formed by the active end of the cordage being looped around the vacant spaces between the knots of the previous row (Figure 17a), passed through the loop (Figure 17b) and pulled tight (Figure 17c). In Nets 1 and 2, the knots are spaced from 0.8 to 1.0 cm apart. In Nets 3 and 4, the knots are distanced from 1.7 to 2.2 cm from one another. The heavy, wider-spaced mesh (3.5 to 4.0 mm) that appears around the tops of the nets (Figure 7) and enlarges into rectangular extensions at the corners (Figure 8), is knotted from 4.5 to 5.0 cm apart. Here the cordage is 4z-s, replied Z. Local fishermen suggested that during use, a heavy throwing rope, termed el tiro, would most likely have been laced through the heavier network at the top as a handling device. The fishermen also told me that there would be problems catching fish with such large nets knotted in small mesh. The weight of the soaked cordage alone would make the nets difficult to control in the water. The small mesh would inhibit the flow of the ocean current, causing them to be caught up and pulled along. Such close network would be appropriate only for very small fish like anchovies, or crustaceans such as shrimp. They suggested that better ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) handling was most likely the reason for the leg and bag extensions on the bottom. Instead of the fish heading into one corner and throwing a net off balance, the appendages would provide places for them to run, keeping the net in balance. They also suggested that rocks placed in the bottom extensions would help overcome the natural buoyancy cotton has when first introduced into the water. Even small rocks would cause the lower extremities to sink, help position them upright and steady them against the ocean current. Blocks of Plain Color. Nets 3 and 4, with extensions resembling legs, were entirely composed of blocks of plain orange, turquoise and purple cordage pre-dyed before knotting. The directionality of the knotting sequence of a block of colored netting can be determined by noting which rows of knots were tied onto previous rows. Knotted mesh has a natural tautness in the direction the cordage was tied, but it will stretch or collapse in the opposite direction when pulled. Taking these two factors into account, it is possible to determine the sequence of knot tying by locating the finishing knot and following the directionality of the knotting sequence backwards. The knotting of the colored blocks usually began and ended in the same place. In other words, the blocks of network were knotted in such a way that the two ends of the cordage met one another at the finish to be tied off together. The first row of knots began close to the tail end with 15 or 20 cm left passively dangling. Figure 17a shows the beginning of the knotting process, with the tail end marked with hatching. Knotting with the opposite, open end continued, one row after the other, until the appropriate size of knotted rectangle was almost achieved (Figure 17b). To form the last row, the net maker would turn the block of network, knot around the corner and continue the last row of knots along the side, working toward the corner with the - 252 dangling tail end. This means that the last row of knots on the plain blocks was knotted perpendicular to the other rows of network. Two or three knots away from the corner, the net maker would drop the main cordage and pick up the tail end, knot it over to the main cordage and join the two together in the final knot (Figure 17c). The tail end of the knot was secure, but the open end required an additional knot to keep it from unraveling before it was cut off. The end knot was generally close to, but never exactly at the corner of a block of network. The corner space was reserved for the two additional knots scheduled to be tied there when the blocks were joined to one another by the double-sided row of knotting in white cordage. Patterned blocks of color. The knotting of the colored images involved a technique somewhat more complicated than that of the plain blocks of network. Two or three colors of cordage were utilized in a design. Again, the tying of one color of cordage onto another indicates that the tie-ons were the later addition. Taking this into account, along with the directionality of the knots and the location of the end and beginning knots (as discussed above), the tying sequence of the various colors of cordage can be followed from knot to knot throughout an image (Figure 18). A description of the knotting sequence of a plant image, tied in two colors, follows. The plant image was so constructed that a beginning knot on the upper left side tied the two colors together and a finishing knot on the bottom right side, tied them off. Each color of cordage, in this case, turquoise and orange, was carried uncut throughout the entire sequence in a skillful synchronization of the placement of the knots of each color. The tying of the turquoise knots onto orange cordage where the colors meet indicated that the orange cordage was knotted first. Figure 18a shows the configuration of the orange cordage (in black) with the turquoise cordage (in white) tied on at the top 253 and the beginning row of knots worked across. Figure 18b shows the appearance of the complete block of network once the knotting of the turquoise cordage was completed. In studying the knotting process, it was intriguing to see how an experienced net maker would have known the knotting sequence for the orange cordage to follow, leaving vacant spaces for the turquoise cordage to enter, fill in with knots, exit, and continue onward in perfect alignment with the knotting sequence laid down in orange cordage. The complicated colored patterns in the nets are the products of skilled craftsmen well experienced in tying the circuitous sequences required to make them. Sometimes the direction of knot tying was reversed in a series of images to give variation. Repeats of the fish motif, for example, were sometimes knotted from the top downward (Figure 10, lower half) and other times from side to side (Figure 10, right). While the same number of knots was used in both instances, fish tied from side to side are thinner than those tied top to bottom. The difference in configuration results from the network being more elastic in the direction opposite to that in which it was tied. Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network The region of discovery. Although traces of a number of small ancient settlements dot the desert area of the discovery of the nets by the mouth of the old Ica River (Engel 1991:153-158 and end-fold map), no strong cultural impact has been reported for the region. Similar to most of the Peruvian coastline, this area is a veritable desert, although it was most likely wetter in the distant past. In the Callango Basin, about 15 km inland from the mouth of the old Ica River, evidence of former cultivated areas accompany habitation sites dating to the Paracas occupation (Massey 1991:319). A few kilometers further inland, the Ocucaje region developed a strong local component of Early Paracas culture (King 1965:259-276; Sawyer 1961) that lasted through late Paracas into the early Nasca period (DeLeonardis 2000:364; Massey 1991:320-329). Ocucaje played an important role in the determination and spread of cultural forms and ideas in the area. Types of weaving, embroidery styles, and iconographic images found there (Kajitani 1982: plates 11, 12, 20-23, 42) are similar to those found on the Paracas Peninsula, indicating cultural contact between the two regions. The contact was most likely by sea, with the entry into the Ica Valley through the area at the mouth of the Ica River, close to the area where the four large nets were found. A SEARCH FOR IDENTITY In a search for the cultural identity of the four nets, several approaches seemed worthy of pursuit. The first involved the identification of cultural influences known to exist in the region of their discovery. The second pursuit centered on the similarities in the presentation and arrangement of iconographic features in the images in the nets that suggest cultural affiliations with known south coastal cultures. Lastly, a search for similar examples of early coastal netting worked in colored cordage seemed in order. For various reasons, radiocarbon dates could not be provided. The Paracas occupation extended into more fertile areas futher up the Ica River as well as along the inland tributaries of the Nasca River to the south, and the valleys that surround the Pisco and Canete Rivers to the north (DeLeonardis 2000:365-367, figure 3; Paul 1991:2-8, figure 111). The most significant manifestations of the Paracas people, however, are the elegant burial garments recovered from several cemeteries on the Paracas Peninsula, approximately 120 kilometers up the coast from the mouth of the old Ica River bed. Tello and Mejía (1979) and Yacovleff and Muelle (1932) subdivided the Paracas culture according to the two burial styles they found there. The earlier ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) cemetery style is called Paracas Cavernas, and the style with later, more culturally advanced burials, is known as Paracas Necropolis. Later Menzel, Rowe, and Dawson (1964) utilized ceramics from the Ica Valley to develop a chronological framework for the Paracas culture that they termed the Ocucaje Sequence. The images in the nets. It is interesting to note that, except for the open, longitudinal side view of the mouth, the fish (Figure 10) and the bird (Figure 11) are represented in a naturalistic and recognizable manner, as if viewed from above. The inclusion of a longitudinal mouth in an otherwise dorsal view of the head of a creature has a lengthy tradition in Peruvian motifs. It became a conventionalized presentation in both textile and ceramic portrayals by the Paracas Cavernas period. Articles concerning the iconography of the period by Carrión Cachot (1931:7, figure 2), Engel (1966:187, 195, figures 51B and 55D), King (1965:215, figure 37b), O’Neale (1942:162, figure 11 and plate 1), and Paul (1990, plate 21) all include the longitudinal mouth in images in an otherwise dorsal view of the creatures. Like the bird and fish, the image of the fox (Figure 14) also has a realistic portrayal, but viewed from the side, rather than the top. The eyes, however, are paired, as if viewed from the front and placed slightly off center behind the open mouth, similar to the conventionalized arrangement of the facial features of the bird and fish. Of further interest is the strange arrangement of the fox's legs. They point outward in opposing right angles to one another. This awkward, but eye catching, symmetry was perhaps intended to provide visual stability to the lower part of the figure. In his study of the iconography of early Paracas ceramics, Sawyer included two examples of foxes from the middle Paracas period with a similar arrangement of the facial features (1961: - 254 289-292, figures 8i and 8j.) He notes that earlier Paracas foxes show Chavín influence, while later ones are more naturalistic. He makes the point that images of the fox were presented with the head in side view while the head of the feline was shown frontally. In the ceramic art of the Ica Valley, foxes were presented in profile with paired eyes, and/or paired ears, facing forward only after Chavín influence waned, and before the more naturalistic representations of early Nazca became popular. The fox image in the nets seems to agree with the portrayal of foxes in stylized form after the waning of Chavín influence that Sawyer relates for the Ica Valley. The time periods of Sawyer's sequence have been superseded by more recent work (Paul 1991: 8-15), but the coverage and directionality of his iconographic study remains the most thorough for the representation of animals from early Paracas through early Nazca time. Another creature depicted in the nets, a humpbacked animal in profile (Figure 12), has been stylized to the point that it is no longer identifiable. The crested head and linear proportions of similar widths that form the limbs and body suggest that this animal comes from the realm of myth rather than from the natural world. Similar to the fox, its head is in profile, with both eyes presented in front view, above the longitudinal mouth. The front and back legs are also positioned outward in opposite directions, a stance that most likely originated in the Chavín presentations of supernatural felines in profile (Figure 19). The stance became well enough accepted to influence the representation of animals in the emerging Paracas culture. By Paracas Cavernas times, the opposing right-angled stance became conventionalized in the representations of a humpbacked animal tied in close-knotting, the favored multi-colored technique for the production of the center section of turbans and headband at Ocucaje (King 1965:343, figures 81a, b, 255 c, h). The technique of close-knotting involves simple overhand knots like those in fish-netting, but spaced so closely together that a needle is required to accomplish the task. The results are so tightly knotted that it no longer resembles netting, but becomes a type of heavy, solid fabric (see O'Neale 1942 figure 7; Paul 1990: plate 9). Another example of a humpbacked animal with the legs at opposing right angles comes from a close-knotted headband from the Cavernas Cemetery that is on display in the Julio C. Tello Museum in the Paracas Reserve (Figure 20). The Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología y Historia (MNAAH) in Lima also has two close-knotted headbands from Cavernas with a similar presentation of feline-like figures (Tello and Mejía 1979:185-187, figure 47-1, 2). Felines with a humpback and legs at right angles to one another were also included in linear style images embroidered on the large mantles from the Paracas Peninsula (Figure 21; Kajitani 1982: figure 29). They appear as secondary figures or fillers relegated to corner positions accompanying rows of long serpents ending in feline heads (Anton 1972: figure 46; Carrión Cachot 1931: figures 9I and 9J). Smaller felines with humpbacks and right angled legs also appear within the bellies of embroidered felines in the Paracas mantles (Anton 1972: 25-26, figures 7E, 8A) and the interior of linear style Occulate Felines and other mythological beings (ibid.: 26, figure 8E; O'Neale 1942:156, figure 3). Other images in the nets present more rectilinear arrangements. One motif shows a stepped center with pairs of rays, ending in volutes, extending from the top and bottom (Figure 13). The purple image, outlined in white, contrasts strongly with the orange ground it is set against. This motif, paired in the nets, is most likely an abbreviated rendition of the sun-face motif. In its most recognizable form, the Paracas sun-face consists of two eyes and a Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network mouth within a rectangular or diamond shaped face. Long paired rays, ending in volutes, emit from its top, bottom, and sides (Engel 1966: figures 51B and 61, top; King 1965: 227, figures 22b, 76a, 76c; O'Neale 1942:160, figure 8e). Sometimes the facial features were abbreviated to a pair of eyes (King 1965:332, figure 76b) or left out entirely (O'Neale 1942:160, figure 8d) in a manner similar to the representation of the rayed image in the nets. Other network. While the small-sized mesh in the nets seems impracticable to local fishermen today, Sandweiss (1992:79-85) reports finding similar network fragments with mesh measuring 1.0-1.7 cm on a side in his excavations of Inca period ruins near Tambo de Moro and at other sites in the Chincha area. Sandweiss cites Coker (1908:99-115) who investigated fishing and network from the Pisco, Chilca, Malla, and Cerro Azul regions, among other places. In twentieth century Peru fish-nets were classified by mesh size and named for the common fish species each size was best suited to catch. Those with very small mesh, 0.75 cm on a side or cuadrado, were called anchoveteras for the anchovy they gathered., and nets from 1.5 to 2.0 cm on a side were called pejerreyeras for the pejerrey, a slightly larger fish (ibid:105; Sandweiss 1992: Table 15). These are very close to the sizes of the meshes of the nets discussed above. Mesh size in Peru is commonly measured by the distance between knots or the number of fingers that can be inserted into a section of mesh (ibid.: 180). The investigation of traditional fishing and fishing culture of the Muchik by Victor Antonio Rodríguez Suy Suy (1997:43-65) provides an account of how such large nets with the central bag extensions were utilized throughout time by coastal fishermen in northern Peru. According to Rodríguez, they were a type of chinchorro de ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) orilla or shore net used when the fish were running in great numbers and could easily be caught close to the edge of the ocean. To be put to use, the heavier mesh surrounding the top of the nets (Figures 7 and 8) was laced with a large rope, weighted with rocks on the bottom, and secured to a pole at each end. Two fishermen, one at each pole, carried the net into the water until it became waist deep (Figure 22). Meanwhile, two other fishermen remained on shore holding long ropes attached to the poles on the sides that studied and guided the net. Once the net was opened by positioning the poles upright, the men on shore slowly tugged on their ropes while those at the poles pushed the net toward shore as they kept the poles vertical. As the net was slowly brought to shore, the fish were gathered into the bag in the bottom. The use of this kind of net for fishing further out in the ocean required three fishermen, each in his own totora raft (Figure 23). The fisherman furthermost out in the ocean took care of the net, while the others at the ends of the ropes slowly pulled the net toward shore, trapping the fish as they moved toward land. Rodríguez names and explains the utility of several other types of nets that were used through time on the north coast, but a type of net with the leg-like extensions, found in Nets 3 and 4, was not among them. Nor does he mention any sort of color or design knotted into the nets from the north coast. A net with two leg extensions, however, is on display at the Julio C. Tello Museum in the Paracas Reserve (Figure 24). It comes from the Cavernas area of the Paracas Peninsula. While this net is much smaller than those discussed here, its overall shape with the leg-shaped extensions indicates that such nets were utilized by the fishermen of the early Paracas culture. Also on exhibit at Julio C. Tello Museum is a well preserved net tied in colored cordage (Figure 25). This oval net (MP-689) is from the - 256 Cavernas Cemetery area of the Paracas Peninsula. It measures 1.99 m in length and .43 m in width and is knotted throughout in simple overhand knots. A detail of the colorful pattern (Figure 26) presents repeats of a double-headed serpent and sun-face motif integrated into a flowing rhomboidal design across the surface of the net. The design arrangement pairs horizontally opposing serpent heads with linear bodies zigzagging between white, serrated diamonds containing the sun-face image in orange. A neutral ocher color forms the background knotwork. The heads of the serpents, in black, white, or orange cordage, are presented dorsally, from above, with a pair of eyes in between an open mouth. While the rhomboidal arrangement of the serpent and sun- face motifs in the Julio C. Tello Museum net is considerably more sophisticated than the individualized motifs in Nets 1 and 2, the serpent and fish heads and the sun-face motif are presented in a similar conventionalized manner. Engel includes a drawing of a portion of the net pattern in his book on Paracas (1966: 187, figure 51B). An almost identical arrangement of the serpent and sun-face pattern within the serrated diamond is depicted by Dwyer (1979: figure 11) in a woven double cloth from the Cavernas Cemetery on the Paracas Peninsula. King also shows the serpent and sun-face pattern (minus the facial features) in a tunic from the site of Ocucaje in the lower Ica valley (1965:215, figure 37b). While the colorful tunic was closely looped rather than knotted, the appearance of a similar pattern arrangement in the tunic from the site of Ocucaje, and the Julio C. Tello Museum net and double cloth from the Cavernas area of the Paracas Peninsula, 120 km up the coast, indicate that the two areas were in contact with one another. The contact would most likely have been by sea, and if so, it would have involved entrance into the Ica Valley at the mouth of the old Ica River bed close to where the four large patterned nets were found. 257 In continuing the search for further information about nets tied in colored patterns, I visited several museums in Lima. The Peruvian Gold Museum (el Museo del Oro del Perú) had a small net on display (Exhibit 5131) composed of rectangular sections of network tied in simple, overhand knots. Each section was knotted in a different shade of brown: medium brown, dark brown, orange-brown, gray-brown, and light brown (tan). The net was made of cabuya (maguey fiber) and measured 52 cm in length by 25 cm across the top. Photography of the net was not allowed, but a sketch of it appears as Figure 27. Like the nets discussed here, a row of double-sided knotting (this time in dark brown cordage) joined the perimeter of each colored block to those of its neighbors. While no provenience or other information about this net is available from the museum, it was gratifying to locate another net tied in blocks of colored network joined together in the same manner as thenets discussed here. Cabuya, cactus, and other plant fibers were utilized for net making before cotton became readily available (Rostworowski 1981:102). The existence of the cabuya net indicates that network tied in blocks of various colors was indeed a very old form of artistic expression. In 2002, conservator Elba Manrique Pereyra and her assistant, Maribel Medina, at the Museo Nacional de Antropología, Archaeología y Historia in Lima graciously allowed me to study their network collection from the Paracas area. I was shown specimens of fishing nets included in the report of the Cavernas burials by Yacovleff and Muelle (1932:32-40). These nets were further studied and described by O'Neale (1932: 62-63). All but one were plain fishing nets knotted in cream or whitish cotton. The one exception, MN85610, had been knotted in cordage with a blue tinge at one end, but no pattern was involved. Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network In addition to the Cavernas nets, the staff showed me 21 other nets in their collection from “south coastal areas”. Of these, three fragments of network had been knotted with sections of dyed cordage. Specimen 5303U, measuring 12.5 by 13.5 cm, was knotted of vegetal fiber, possibly maguey. Only bits of a stepped design in green cordage remained along the right side. The provenience was not known. Another specimen, EU/773, from “region sur”, measures 53 cm long and about half as wide across its fragmented side. A design of small rectangular blocks, knotted in orange, green, and brown camelid cordage, aligned vertically as crosses on a white ground (Figure 28). A third specimen, 74427, showed bits of beige, dark green, and orange cordage knotted along one side, but not enough remained to discern a pattern. No provenience was listed. All three of the specimens with colored sections were knotted in simple, overhand knots ranging from 0.6 to 1.3 cm on a side, or close to the spacing of the other nets with colored yarn discussed above. I was also shown other examples of network from the south coast that had been knotted in diagonal arrangements of plain white cordage to form attractive chevron or diamond-shaped patterns. These were not fishing nets but fancy headdresses or “hoods” like the ones King (1965: 230- 232) describes in her assessment of different kinds of nets from Ocucaje. While none of the examples in MNAAH had been knotted in colored cordage, King describes a hood from Ocucaje with diamond shapes containing the image of a skull knotted in contrasting arrangements of red with dark blue cordage and blue- green with cream cordage (Figure 29). In her summary of network found at Ocucaje, King mentions that “elaborate multi-colored patterning is also found,” but the hood with the skull pattern is the only specimen of spaced knotwork in colored cordage that she includes in her catalogue. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) When I returned to MNAAH the following year, the museum staff informed me that they had located another example of network knotted in colored cotton cordage (27154). The knots were tied at distances of 0.45 to 0.5 cm on a side of the mesh. The cordage could not be analyzed beyond determining that the final ply was in the Z direction with a diameter of 0.7 to 0.8 cm. The net was from the site of Cabeza Larga, a well known Cavernas Cemetery on the Paracas Peninsula. Although all of the upper end and parts of the lower end were missing, the intact sides suggested that the net had originally been rectangular in shape (Figure 30). It measured 24 cm from side to side and 49 cm along what remained of its length. The mesh had been tied in simple overhand knots forming the familiar image of the serpent and sun-face design in dark brown on yellow-ocher background. This time, the quadruple lines of the body of a pair of double-headed snakes define a large central diamond filled with the image of the sun-face. The serrated inner lines of the snake's body angle into smaller half-diamond shapes on the sides where they end in the head of a serpent. The image of a fish with a similar head, next to the serpent head, faces the opposite direction. Both heads are presented dorsally, from above, with a pair of eyes above an open mouth in the same conventionalized arrangement discussed above in the oval net from the Julio C. Tello Museum and the images in Nets 1 and 2. The inclusion of similar iconographic images in the same technique of knotting colored cordage seems to provide a link between all the nets discussed above. DISCUSSION The four large fishing nets discussed here, the oval net from Julio C. Tello Museum in the Paracas Reserve, the hood from Ocucaje (King 1965:235), the cabuya net from the Peruvian Gold Museum, one rectangular piece, and several fragments of netting in the NMAAH - 258 represent the examples of patterned nets tied in dyed cordage that I could locate. Although few in number, these examples are sufficient to define the technique and highlight its artistic attributes. While there is no certainty as to the cultural affinity of the four nets, the knotting technique and iconography indicate that they most likely pertain to the Paracas Cavernas era. Very little is known about the ancient south coastal fishing cultures of Peru that produced colorfully patterned nets like these. Those who have studied these cultures point out that they dwelt apart in coastal villages (Sandweiss 1992) more connected to one another than to other communities further inland (Rostworowski 1981:82-103). They were never well integrated into the mainstream cultural events, and their lifestyle, language, ceremonies, and beliefs were essentially their own. The utility of the production of such large colored nets comes into question. Considerably more labor would have been expended in the construction of the knotted patterns than was required for knotting ordinary fishing nets. The knotting of the colored patterns would have required a group of skilled craftsmen with shared knowledge of the intricate tying sequences. Their production and utilization indicates community involvement on several social levels. In addition to the many individuals needed to work on their construction, significant planning and coordination would have been required to fit all the pieces together to make the nets. The fact that all four nets are close to six meters in length, varying only a few centimeters from one another, suggests that specific measurements guided their construction. Cooperative involvement would also have been required in their use. In describing the traditional use of similar large nets on the north coast, Rodríguez (1997:43-64) indicated that 259 three or four men would have worked together to position the nets offshore and gather in the catch. The utility of such large nets was evidently reserved for times of abundant running of the fish close to the shore. When great numbers of fish appeared, the call to service of the nets would have been a time of excitement and celebration. It is easy to imagine the delight of the ancient fishing villagers when they witnessed the color of the images in the nets magically deepen as they were immersed in the water. Perhaps the colored patterns attracted the fish. An abundant catch would likely have been followed by feasting and thanksgiving, commemorated in a ceremonial manner. In terms of such rewards, the tying of the complicated colored patterns seems worthy of the labor expended. The storage of the nets in a specially prepared pit under an offering of gourds and llama bones implies they were not being used every day, but were ritually put away until a subsequent event of consequence called for their unearthing. The ritual care of the nets suggests the elevation of normally utilitarian fishing gear to ceremonial status. The status, in turn, indicates an organized homage to fishing, the sea, and creatures within it. Certainly the effort expended to knot the patterns and assemble the nets went far beyond that needed simply to catch fish to sustain the local economy. The nets were more than ceremonial showpieces, however. They display signs of extensive use. One indication of the unusual status of the nets in a socially stratified context is the unskilled repair done to broken sections. Woolen yarn was very crudely looped around the sides of the holes in Net 2, tightly pulled and knotted. This type of repair caused unsightly bunching of the surrounding network, and makes sense only if quick action had to be taken, such as that required during an ongoing ceremony. Had real fishermen been in charge of the ceremony, good repairs would most likely have been made to Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network broken areas at a later date, but this never occurred. (For a description of traditional net repair by fishermen, see Sandweiss 1991:83-84.) This suggests that the ones in charge of the nets during ceremonial use were not the ones who made them or the holes would have been repaired correctly, or, possibly, there may have been a prohibition against repair of a ceremonial object. REFERENCES CITED: Anton, Ferdinand 1972 The Art of Ancient Peru. New York: Putnam. Carrión Cachot, Rebeca 1931 La indumentaria en la antigua cultura de Paracas. Wira Kocha: Revista Peruana de Estudios Antropológicos. 1(1):37-86. Coker, Roberto E. 1908 Condición en que se encuentra la pesca marina desde Paita hasta Bahia de la Independencia (conclusión). Chapter 7, La pesca en Chilca, Bujama (Mala), y Cerro Azul. Boletín del Ministerio de Fomento. 6(5):99-115 (incorrectly printed as 7[5]). Lima: Dirección de Fomento, Imprenta del Estado, Escuela de Artes y Oficios. DeLeonardis, Lisa 2000 The Body Context: Interpreting Early Nasca Decapitated Burials. Latin American Antiquity 11(4):363-386. Dwyer, Jane P. 1979 Chronology and Iconography of Paracas-style Textiles. In The Junius B. Bird Pre-Columbian Textile Conference, edited by Ann Pollard Rowe, Elizabeth P. Benson, and Anne-Louise Schaffer. pp. 105-128. Washington, D.C.: The Textile Museum and Dumbarton Oaks. Engel, Frédéric 1963 Preceramic Settlements in Peru. In Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 53 (3):20-51. 1966 Paracas: Cien siglos de cultura peruana. Lima: Editorial Juan Mejía Baca. 1991 Desierto en tiempos prehispanicos: Río Pisco, Paracas, río Ica. Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey: Humanities Press. Gayton, Anna H. 1961 The Cultural Significance of Peruvian Textiles: Production, Function, Aesthetics. Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers 25:111-128. 1967 Textiles from Hacha, Peru. Nawpa Pacha 5:1-14. Kajitani, Nobuko 1982 Andesu No Senshoku. Senshoku no Bi (Textile Art) 20:9-99. Kyoto, Japan: Shikosha Publishing. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Published in English as Textiles of the Andes: Text and Captions. Kyoto, Japan: Shofin (1982) and by Kyoto, Japan: Horikawa-Dori (1982?), the latter distributed by New York: Kinokuni-ya of TokyoSheton. King, Mary Elizabeth 1965 Textiles and Basketry of the Paracas Period, Ica Valley, Peru. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Arizona, Tucson. Lumbreras, Luis G. 1974 The People and Cultures of Ancient Peru, translated by Betty J. Meggers.Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Massey, Sarah A. 1991 Social and Political Leadership in the Lower Ica Valley: Ocucaje Phases 8 and 9. In Paracas Art and Architecture, edited by Ann Paul, pp. 313415. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. Menzel, Dorothy, John H. Rowe, and Lawrence E. Dawson 1964 The Paracas Pottery of Ica: A Study in Style and Time. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 50. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Munsell Color Company 1973 The Munsell Book of Color. Newburgh, New York: A Munsell Color Prouduct. O'Neale, Lila M. 1932 Tejidos del período primitivo de Paracas. Revista del Museo Nacional 1/2:60-80. 1942 Textile Periods in Ancient Peru: II, Paracas Cavernas and the Grand Necropolis. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 39(2): i-vi, pp. 143-189, 5 plates. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. - 260 Paul, Ann 1990 Paracas Ritual Attire: Symbols of Authority in Ancient Peru. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 1991 Paracas: An Ancient Cultural Tradition on the South Coast of Peru. In Paracas Art and Architecture, edited by Ann Paul, pp. 1-34. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. Rodríguez Suy Suy, Victor Antonio 1997 Los pueblos muchik en el mundo andino de ayer y siempre. Lima: PRATEC. Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, María 1981 Recursos naturales renovables y pesca: Siglos XVI y XVII. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. Sandweiss, Daniel H. 1992 The Archaeology of Chincha Fishermen: Specialization and Status In Inka Peru. Bulletin of the Carnegie Museum of Natural History 29. Sawyer, Alan R. 1961 Paracas and Nasca Iconography. In Essays in Pre-Columbian Art and Archaeology, edited by Doris Z. Stone, Gordon F. Ekholm, Junius B. Bird, and Gordon R. Willey, pp. 269-298. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Tello, Julio C. And Torbio Mejía Xesspe 1979 Paracas, segunda parte: Cavernas y necrópolis. Publicación Antropológica del Archivo “Julio C. Tello”. Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos and New York: Institute of Andean Research. Yacovleff, Eugenio and Jorge C. Muelle 1932 Una exploración en Cerro Colorado: Informe y observaciones. Revista del Museo Nacional 1/2:3159. 261 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 1: Net 1. Length 5.9 m, width 2.64 m. Cotton cordage (z-s--Z) knotted in blocks of turquoise, purple, orange, and natural cream color containing images of local flora and fauna. Photo consists of multiple overlapping images. Figure 2: Net 2. Length: 6.1 m, width: 2.67 m. Cotton cordage (z-s-Z) knotted in blocks of turquoise, purple, orange, and natural cream color containing images of local flora and fauna. Photo consists of overlapping images. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 262 Figure 3: Net 3. Length 6.30 m, width 2.8-2.31 m. Cotton cordage (z-s-Z) knotted in blocks of plain, turquoise, purple, orange, and natural cream, without images. Photo consists of overlapping images. Figure 4: Net 4. Length 5.87 m, width: 2.24-2.4 m. Cotton cordage (z-s-Z) knotted in blocks of plain color, now mostly faded. Photo consists of overlapping images. 263 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 5: Net 2 being straightened by Nanette Skov. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 264 Figure 6: A section of Net 1 showing the outline of the white yarn used to knot the blocks of colored images together. Figure 7: Mesh with knots 5.5cm apart surrounds the tops of the nets. 265 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 8: Wider section of mesh at the ends of net. Figure 9: Section of plant images, Net 2. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 266 Figure 10: The fish image, Net 1. Figure 11: The bird image, Net 2. 267 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 12: The humpbacked animal, Net 1. Figure 13: The sun-face image, Net 1. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 268 Figure 14: A pair of fox images, Net 1. Figure 15: Replied cordage used to tie the nets. Figure 16: Steps involved in tying a simple overhand knot. 269 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 17: a) The first row of knot-work for a block of netting in colored cordage; b) the block of netting before completion of the last row of knot-work; c) the block of netting turned 180 degrees, the tail end knotted over to meet the final row of knot-work and the two ends of cordage tied together in the final knot. Figure 18: a) The knotting of a plant image with the dark base color completed and the addition of the lighter second color beginning to be tied along the top; b) the completion of the knotting of the lighter color to the dark base color of the plant image. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 270 Figure 19: Chavín representation of a supernatural feline in profile (after Lumbreras 1974: figure 11). Figure 20: Image of a humpbacked animal on a closeknotted headband from a Cavernas Cemetery, on display in the Julio C. Tello Museum in the Paracas Reserve. Figure 21: Feline image embroidered on a mantle from the Paracas Peninsula (after Paul 1990:71, figure 6.6). 271 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 22: A traditional Muchick fishing net, with the bag extension, in use close to the shore by four fishermen (after Rodríguez 1997: figure 4B). Figure 23: A traditional Muchick fishing net, with the bag extension tended by fishermen in totora boats farther out to sea than those in Figure 22 (after Rodríguez 1997: figure 4C). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 24: Net with leg extensions, Julio C. Tello Museum, Paracas Reserve. - 272 273 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 25: Oval net (MP-689) Cavernas Cemetery, Paracas Peninsula, in the Julio C. Tello Museum, Paracas Reserve. Figure 26: Detail of the iconographic images in the oval net (MP-689) ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 274 Figure 27: Sketch of a net of dyed cabuya fiber, knotted in different shades of brown, on display in the Gold Museum of Peru, Exhibit 5131. Figure 28: Sketch of Net EU/773 in the Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología y Historia (Lima) with a design of rectangular blocks executed in camelid cordage vertically aligned as crosses on a white ground. 275 - Katterman: Knotted Cotton Network Figure 29: Sketch of a section of a hood from Ocucaje knotted in red, blue, green, and cream cordage (after King 1965: figure 45). Figure 30: Net (27154) from Cabeza Larga in the Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología y Historia, Lima knotted in dark brown and yellow-ocher cordage. CLIMATE, AGRICULTURAL STATEGIES, AND SUSTAINABILITY IN THE PRECOLUMBIAN ANDES CHARLES R. ORTLOFF University of Chicago and MICHAEL E. MOSELEY University of Florida INTRODUCTION Throughout ancient South America, millions of hectares of abandoned farmland attest that much more terrain was cultivated in precolumbian times than at present. For Peru alone, the millions of hectares of abandoned agricultural land show that in some regions 30 to 100 percent more terrain was cultivated in precolumbian times than at present (Clement and Moseley 1991:425). While many cultural explanations for agrarian collapse can be formulated, the most compelling reason for the loss of cultivatable land is changing climate, including shifting rainfall patterns and amounts. Agriculture was expanded many times in many places when conditions favorable to land reclamation were perceived by past populations. When climatic trends led to diminished water supplies, temporary or permanent agrarian regression ensued, with consequences for social structure. Ancient Andean civilizations utilized a wide diversity of agricultural techniques in different ecological zones, and developed agriculural strategies consistent with local climate patterns, hydrological characteristics, soil and crop types, and local labor supply. The strategies chosen depended upon a society’s hydraulic engineering, surveying, and civil engineering skills combined with its perception of ecological and hydrological conditions. Taken together, these ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 277-304. allowed each society to design and manage complex water supply networks and to adapt them as climate changed. While shifts to marine resources, pastoralism, and trade may have mitigated declines in agricultural production, damage to the sustainability of the main agricultural system often led to societal changes and/or additional modifications to those systems. To achieve agricultural sustainability, Andean administrators needed to record changes in climate patterns, weather events, and natural disasters, then conduct analyses to plan modifications allowing agricultural systems to function in the face of changing water supplies. Modifications took the form of physical alteration of existing water delivery systems, and the development of new agro-systems suitable to new hydrological conditions. When climate deteriorated beyond a system’s ability to make modifications to maintain sustainability, field system abandonment was an inevitable outcome. A sustainable agricultural base, on the other hand, can lead to overall population growth and patterns of population concentration and/or dispersal, with specialized labor to work and manage the system. Such a division of the workforce underlies urban centers that controlled and administered adjacent agricultural zones and may have exerted centralized control of labor. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Even if water supplies are adequate for sustainable agriculture, inappropriate strategies of agro-engineering and labor management can interrupt the development of otherwise wellfunctioning societies. Agricultural sustainability requires administrative skills to guide adaptive technical innovations in the design and management of an agricultural system to maintain high yields in spite of changing weather and climate. A degree of flexibility to modify an agricultural system should, therefore, be part of the original design of a system if knowledge of prior weather and climate patterns, and their consequences for sustainability, exists. As an integral part of system design and the potential for innovative and adaptive design change, an understanding of the dynamics of water flow from original highland rainfall sources to lowland and coastal regions must be in place. The effects of excessive rainfall or drought are disproportionately felt in the highlands compared to the run-off dependent coastal field systems. The differences arise from altitude-dependent soil types and their water infiltration and water retention characteristics, soil saturation levels, and porosity, as well as transport, evaporation, and seepage loss rates from water source to final destination for agricultural use. Based upon such considerations, reconstructions of interactive, climate-related, and societal-dependent structural factors have a hydrological component and are thus key to understanding highland-lowland interactional dynamics and their possible relation to Andean development. THE SETTING: REGIONAL CLIMATE NORMS The central Andes consists of parallel eastern and western cordilleras. In the north-central Andes the higher eastern range and the lower western range enclose intermontane uplands that drain mostly into the Amazon and its tributaries. In the southern altiplano region rainfall drainage is mostly into Lake Titicaca with a high degree of infiltration that maintains - 278 high groundwater levels on the altiplano throughout wet and dry seasons. Drainage from western cordillera rainfall is mostly directed to coastal river valleys (Figures 1, 2) with outflow to the Pacific Ocean with the exception of the intermontane source of the Santa River. Biotic diversity is pronounced in the many highly varied ecological zones of Peru. For example, with 35 of the world’s life zones, Peru contains the largest number of ecological zones of any country on earth (Perú, ONERN 1976; Tosi 1960). However, diversity is asymmetrically distributed by altitude, latitude, and longitude. As in all mountain ranges, ecological zones are stratified by altitude and far fewer species of plants live at high elevations than at low ones. The Andean mountain ranges form South America’s continental divide. Normally, all rainfall in the eastern cordillera comes from the Atlantic Ocean with a longitudinal gradient in precipitation. Fronting the Amazon Basin, the high eastern Andean escarpment receives abundant precipitation, creating a rain shadow to the west. Consequently, bio-diversity is greatest along the lower eastern flanks of the eastern cordillera. The eastern escarpment is exceptionally steep and therefore difficult to farm. Because the eastern watershed reaches deep into the intermontane sierra, it receives and discharges approximately 90% of all moisture in the range. Sierran basins have relatively modest slopes amenable to rainfall and runoff farming. Cultivation, in conjunction with the use of high altitude grasslands for herding, sustains agro-pastoralism and was the basis for large sierran populations in prehispanic times. DROUGHT EVENTS Analysis of the ice cores from the southern region Quelccaya peak (Thompson et al. 1985, 1986, 1994) and from the north Andean Huascarán mountain (Thompson et al. 1995a), and 279 analysis of the Lake Titicaca sediment cores (Abbott et al. 1997; Binford et al. 1997; Ortloff and Kolata 1993; Seltzer 1991) reveals dramatic climate shifts. The Quelccaya ice cores indicate periods of wet and dry climate, as well as dust maxima, over a 1500 year span of time. The Huascarán ice cores show similar climate variations with dust concentration events characterizing dry periods. The Lake Titicaca sediment cores present limnological data corroborating the major wet and dry period climate shifts found in the Quelccaya and Huascarán ice core data (Ortloff and Kolata 1993:200). Initial analysis of the cores documents a 25 to 30 percent decline in precipitation between 563 and 594 C.E. (Shimada et al. 1991:261). This drought is notable for both its rapid onset and exceptional severity (Schaaf 1988; Shimada et al. 1991:248, 261-262). A protracted precipitation downturn between 1100 and 1500 C.E. occurred when rainfall was, on average, 5 to 15 percent below previous norms before precipitation returned to long term averages around 1700 C.E. The limnological cores from Lake Titicaca have provided a 3500 year record of precipitation induced lake level variation. These cores show early Holocene aridity, mid-Holocene lake filling around 1400 B.C.E., drought-induced lake level low stands at about 900-800 B.C.E. and 400-200 B.C.E., as well as at 1-300 C.E. and 1100-1450 C.E. (Abbott et al. 1997; Binford et al. 1997). Huascarán ice cores from northern Peru reveal a glacial record of climatic conditions extending back to late Pleistocene times (Thompson et al. 1995). Evidence of the drought beginning around 1100 C.E. is also found in dust maxima and elevated temperature variations seen in the Huascarán cores. To reconstruct the effects of changing climate on Andean highland and coastal societ- Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies ies we review the record of cultural change through time using the Uhle-Rowe chronological sequence. The sequence begins with Formative and Preceramic Periods of long duration (c. 9500-1800 B.C.E.), and continues with the Initial Period (IP; 1800-900 B.C.E.), the Early Horizon (EH; 900-200 B.C.E.), the Early Intermediate Period (EIP; 200-600 C.E.), and the Middle Horizon (MH; 600-1000 C.E.). This last division is followed by the Late Intermediate Period (LIP; 1000-1476 C.E.), then climaxed by the Late Horizon (LH; 1476-1534 C.E.). Climate data show that early and middle phases of the EIP climate were sufficiently stable to provide adequate water resources for the development of canal based irrigation agriculture by the Peruvian north coast Gallinazo and Moche polities, as well as by the south coast Nasca and central coast Lima polities. Highland Wari and early phase Tiwanaku also flourished during this time, reinforcing the conclusion that water supplies and runoff were adequate in both the coastal and highland zones, although agricultural techniques varied greatly from locale to locale. Towards the end of the EIP, a dry period (Thompson et al. 1985:973) apparently played some role in the decline of the Moche state around 640 C.E. (Shimada et al. 1991), as well as in the collapse of Recuay and Lima polities, and that of the south coast Nasca polity. During the MH there was a dramatic expansion and rise in influence of the highland Tiwanaku and Wari states with their highland-adapted agricultural strategies and plentiful water supplies. By contrast, in coastal areas there was a decline in the area of irrigated land and highland states expanded into coastal regions (e.g., Tiwanaku colonies in the Moquegua Valley and Wari influence on southern coastal regions, at Cerro Baúl in the Moquegua Valley, and at Beringa in the Majes Valley; Owen 2007:287-289; 291292, 305-316, 321-325; Tung 2007:254-255). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Towards the end of the Middle Horizon the decline of the Tiwanaku and Wari states (c. 1000-1200 C.E.) may have been due to a prolonged drought. Chimu, Chancay, and IcaChincha societies continued to sustain their agricultural bases through efficient use of limited irrigation water supplies, and dependence upon marine resources. Late kingdoms in the altiplano (the Lupaqa, Colla, and minor local groups) arose concurrently with the fragmentation of the dominant Tiwanaku state. Towards the end of the LIP, a decline in agricultural productivity in the Chimu Moche Valley region is associated with sierra rainfall decline as shown by sequential canal cross-section area decreases and flow rates (Ortloff et al. 1985:78, 86-89, 94, 96-97). Highland polities (Wanka, Chanca, and early Cusco) arise in this period, but are of lesser regional influence compared to the Chimu state. A shift to a wetter period during the start of the Late Horizon (Thompson et al. 1985:973, 1986: 364, 1994:85) was followed by political dominance of the highland Inca state over coastal, highland, and altiplano regions extending from presentday Ecuador to mid-Chile. Significantly, the Titicaca lake cores, Quelccaya ice cores, and Huascarán dust maxima are concordant in their documentation of a longterm decline in rainfall levels beginning around 1100 C.E. This decline appears to be an Andean expression of the worldwide perturbations in rainfall and temperature known as the Medieval Warm Period. The long duration of this dry period allowed coping strategies to be developed over many centuries. Drought defensive responses that can be inferred from the archaeological record can be viewed as a measure of a society’s accomplishments in technical innovation to reconfigure agro-systems towards greater sustainability under climate stress. - 280 Rainfall farming is more efficient than canalized runoff farming (per unit of water input) because of the evaporation and seepage associated with rivers and canals. In the arid sierra at elevations around 2250 m, the Moquegua River’s flow forfeiture reaches 4 percent per kilometer (Williams 1997). Mountain runoff is greatly diminished by the time it reaches the lower coastal valleys. Drought, therefore, always has a more severe effect in coastal desert zones than in mountain headwater zones. On the other hand, when water is adequate, irrigated farming produces far higher yields on average than rainfall farming. Thus, there is substantial investment in irrigation reclamation during protracted episodes of normal or above normal precipitation. However, growth is not sustainable when long term precipitation rates decline on the order of 5 percent or more from average because runoff drops disproportionately. Consequently, over the millennia, populations dependent on irrigation agriculture have repeatedly pulsed outward over arid landscapes in wet periods and defensively reconfigured in times of rainfall and runoff decline. This process is reflected in ruins of vast agrarian works that blanket the arid Andean landscape. ADAPTATION TO PROTRACTED DROUGHT The recurrence of protracted drought raises the probability that indigenous populations reacted to episodic dessication in patterned ways based on prior experiences, and that some of these responses are evident from the archaeological record. A very high degree of subsistence mobility characterizes highland agro-pastoral adaptations because they are based upon the exploitation of multiple, dispersed ecological zones stratified by altitude (Murra 1972). Annual hazards associated with short growing seasons and poorly developed mountain soils include topsoil erosion, erratic precipitation, temperature fluctuations, saturated soils, frost, and hail. Mediation requires rapid transmission 281 of information so that agricultural and pastoral activities can be reprogrammed on short notice (Earls 1996:302, 304-305). It also requires preserving, storing, and stockpiling food reserves because poor harvests are frequent (Orlove and Guillet 1985:10). Drought exacerbates many negative factors affecting human adaptations in the central Andes and contributes to declines in productivity, botanical variability, and increasing distances between valued commodities. Large, dense population areas are also affected by drought because these had long traditions of complex social organization, culminating with the LH Inca imperium. Inca political formation was a slow process that began shortly after 1000 C.E. with the gradual consolidation of local ethnic groups (Bauer 1992:1, 40-48, 72, 90-94, 109-123, 124-139, 149-147). Thus, the nascent polity was formulated and grew during the long periods characterized by low average rainfall. After 1400 C.E., as average rainfall levels increased, the Inca adapted corporate styles of art, architecture, and construction on a monumental scale both in the capital region and in the provinces. Corvée labor was employed for large-scale agrarian reclamation of land that was not farmed, or that was underutilized. Initially, much of the reclaimed terrain was at high elevations along the eastern Andean escarpment, utilizing terracing in high rainfall zones, although such terracing was a drought response at the folk level. Later, as rainfall levels increased even more above normal, corvée labor was used to reopen farming in lower, warmer elevations where conquered communities were often resettled. Therefore, certain Inca corvée policies over time may be considered as adaptations to both drought and to increased rainfall. Inca food storing and stockpiling are unsurpassed in the annals of South American civilizations (LeVine 1992:15). The monumental construction and prominent display of warehouses (qollka) frequently surpassed the quality Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies and placement of commoners’ houses. Erected in rows, hundreds, and in some cases, thousands of qollka were strategically positioned on high hills and could be seen from great distances. Although prominently displayed for reassurance that the state provided contingency food supplies, their locations on mountainsides also provided cold air currents to help preserve food quality by removal of heat that serves as a catalyst for the spoilage of organic material (Morris 1992; Rowe 1946). Although the stores were generally used for state purposes, they were also used to mitigate food shortages among the common people (Rowe 1946:266-267). In contrast, the coastal Chimu polity responded to low rainfall periods by contracting its agricultural base commensurately with its lower water supplies. While canals were infilled to create smaller channels during drought, no evidence of the reverse process is evident for the late MH to LH times when water supplies increased. This may be attributed to the domination of the north coast by the Inca and the disassembly of the Chimu state’s agricultural multi-valley domains to suit Inca political goals for the region. In EIP times, it appears that some shift from the Mochica capital in the Moche Valley center occurred to incorporate, through conquest, larger northern valleys, the Jequetepeque and Lambayeque in particular, with rivers less subject to flow rate intermittency and large land areas suitable for agriculture. In the late LIP, a similar expansion into northern valleys by the Chimu, who were centered at Chan Chan, in the Moche Valley, had, as its goal, an increase in agricultural sustainability to support an expanding population. This expansion was likely driven by similar drought effects that challenged agricultural sustainability in the Moche Valley with its small land area and intermittent river water supplies. Territorial expansion into large, ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) irrigable valleys is also a coping strategy, albeit a last resort when innovation is lacking. HIGHLAND AGRICULTURAL STRESS AND RESPONSE Recent work has postulated that the 1100 C.E. drought played a role in the collapse of the Tiwanaku polity centered around Lake Titicaca (Kolata and Ortloff 1996:110, 151; Ortloff and Kolata 1993). This is premised upon the fact that the agricultural base of Tiwanaku was anchored in some 80 square kilometers of raised fields in the extensive low-lying areas along lake margins north of Tiwanaku (Binford et al. 1997: 235, 243, 245). The raised field mounded ridges are elevated 1-1.5m above the water table and have planting surfaces 2-10 m wide that range from 10 m to 200 m long (Kolata and Ortloff 1996:118). Built in parallel row segments, each ridge is separated from the next by a depressed trough of similar dimensions that held slow moving spring-supplied or standing ground water which is essential to the high productivity of ridged field systems (Kolata 1996:118-120). Warmed during the day by solar radiation absorbed by dark, decomposing organic material in the water troughs, heat is released during cold nights into the soil mounds to maintain internal mound temperatures near the freezing point, but insufficiently cold to cause a phase change to ice, thus limiting damage to root crop biomass. The mound phreatic zones are also effective in collecting and storing solar radiative heat due to the high specific heat of moist soils (Kolata and Ortloff 1989: 252, 256-260). As lake and runoff levels declined after 1100 C.E., the water table subsided, desiccating raised field systems and reducing their thermal storage potential. By the time the lake fell to its -12m low-stand, more than 50,000 hectares of raised fields had been abandoned. The population of Tiwanaku’s urban core dispersed to utilize - 282 higher fields located near high water table zones, and occupy small rural settlements (AlberracínJordán and Mathews 1990:146-148). While creation of small sunken gardens as a drought response was tenable in limited regions of the land-locked Titicaca Basin, where water was not far below the ground surface, this was not an option in most sierra basins with steep drainages. Along the western Andean escarpment there were few means to compensate for food loss in the dry sierra below 2000 m. Here slopes are steep, ground- water is deep below the land surface, runoff is limited, and natural vegetation is sparse. In this region of the Moquegua Basin, Tiwanaku colonies and later post-Tiwanaku Chirabaya populations dependent upon rainfall and irrigation agriculture declined significantly during the post-1100 C.E. dry period (Ortloff 1989:472-475, 477). Unlike the coastal valleys, where tectonically-induced river down-cutting forced farmers to shift their river canal inlets to lower altitudes downstream to channel water into canals (Ortloff et al. 1985:77-78, 85, 90-91, 9697), sierra farmers shifted to higher elevations in pursuit of higher rainfall rates and pre-drought quantities of subsurface water supplying moist pasture lands at altitudes about 100 to 400 m or more above the normal level of cultivation. There were many constraints on the uphill pursuit of rainfall and soil moisture. Fewer types of crops can be grown at higher elevations because soil quality decreases and the frequency of frost, hail, and erosion increases. While terracing can provide planting surface stability, the labor investment is high and time consuming to implement and thus does not constitute a short-term solution to climate variation. In the central highlands of Peru, by about 1300 C.E. colder, dryer climate conditions forced a downward shift of as much as 150 m in the altitude distribution of natural vegetation zones relative 283 - Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies to today’s levels (Seltzer and Hastorf 1990:402, 405-408, 410). innovation applied to these fixed systems was the only option for maintaining sustainability. Thus, as highland people moved agriculture and pastoralism into higher, wetter altitudes, the elevations at which plants, pasture, and crops could grow diminished, and drought-response farming moved from gentle to steep inclines. To reclaim upland mountain slopes, agriculturalists constructed terraces over a span of many generations to control soil loss and regulate moisture levels for specific crops. Along the Pacific watershed and sierra zones, terracing was combined with canal irrigation to capture high elevation runoff streams. In addition to permitting crop cultivation at higher altitudes, terracing was widely used to move farming eastward into the Atlantic watershed. Even during drought this region was better watered than the rest of the central Cordillera. Hence terracing allowed farming to expand into less extreme elevations where more types of crops can grow. To augment agrarian tax revenues, the Inca imperium often forcibly resettled conquered high altitude communities on lower terrain made more productive by increased rainfall, soil moisture, and runoff. Although post-LH precipitation rose above long term normal levels, demographic decimation in the wake of European pandemics left Spanish overlords with few people to farm large expanses of arable land. Because above normal rainfall and runoff persisted until about 1700 C.E., remnants of the indigenous population could still be forcibly relocated to even lower elevations. This facilitated political control and religious conversion and imposed cultivation of Old World cultigens intolerant of extreme altitudes. If the drought had not broken neither Inca nor Castilian resettlement policies would have been tenable. Over the course of many drought-influenced centuries in the latter part of the LIP, millions of terraces were built to reclaim vast areas of the Andean uplands in the eastern escarpment. Whereas both agrarian productivity and populations declined along the lower Pacific watershed, the drop in rainfall was a major catalyst for economic and demographic radiation into the upper and eastern highlands, culminating by about 1400 C.E. in large populations at high altitudes. Because normal sierra runoff farming produces higher yields than sierra rainfall farming, as the drought mitigated during the Little Ice Age, farmers reverted to lower, warmer settings better for plant growth. Thus, where mobility was possible, population concentrations shifted to maintain agricultural sustainability. For cases for which large fixed investment in a specialized agricultural method was tied intimately to the landscape (altiplano raised fields and coastal irrigation networks, for example), Thus, during the last millennium, farming, and the millions it supports, have shifted over the elevated slopes of the Andean range in concordance with long term changes in rainfall and runoff, with political boundaries set as constraints. This story of climate change and human response over the mountain landscape is shown in ubiquitous terraces, fields, and ruins of past agrarian endeavors during EIP to LH times. REGIONAL ADAPTIVE AGRICULTURAL STRATEGIES The adaptive strategies used to defend agroproduction in the face of drought, excessive El Niño rainfall, or the presence of above-average rainfall over time, are summarized in Table 1 and Figure 3. Specific to different geographic sectors and cultural periods, these strategies represent sustainability programs devised to protect agricultural fields and water supply systems. The defensive measures give direct evidence of cultural memory of responses to past ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 284 catastrophic events and constitute evidence of the importance of such events in shaping the technological response pattern relevant to specific areas and polities. Table 1 - Regional and Adaptive Agro-engineering Technological Strategies EH EIP MH LIP LH – – – – – 11 – 19 11, 19 11 high rainfall – 5, 8 2, 5, 8, 12, 14 6, 14 6 drought – 8, 12 3, 5, 8, 12, 13, 19 4, 6, 7, 8, 13, 14 7, 19 2 2 1 1, 5, 16 – 4, 11, 17, 18 3, 4, 11, 17, 18 3, 4, 12, 15 3, 4, 7, 10, 15, 16, 18 – high rainfall 17 – – 1, 2 – drought 18 9, 18 4, 9, 10 4, 9, 10 9 North Sierra high rainfall drought Southern Altiplano North Coast high rainfall drought South Coast small valleys Key: A dash indicates lack of available information. 1. Canal hydraulic controls: canal inlet blockage from rivers to regulate canal intake flow rate; use of canal overflow weirs (downhill water spillage from canals) triggered by El Niño-induced canal flow rates exceeding design capacity, i.e., excessive rainfall-induced canal flows activate supercritical chokes causing side overfall weirs to activate to release excess flows; stream-wise alteration of canal slope, wall roughness, and cross-section shaping to alter flow height and velocity; dividing canal flow into two separate streams at different slopes and velocities, then recombining to induce a hydraulic jump in a single channel used as an energy dissipation method to slow flow velocity; coupling of intra- to inter-valley canals as a means of reactivating dessicating intra-valley canals. They redirected water in excess of that required for available arable land, directing flow from large rivers to adjacent valleys of political importance to increase the latter’s agricultural footprints and increase local sources of food. Examples present in Chimu Chicama-Moche Inter-valley, Lambayeque-Supe-Leche Intervalley, and Chillón-Rimac-Lurin (Lima) Intervalley complexes (Kosok 1965: map page 24, map page 86 figure 8 page 90, map page 146; Ortloff 1993: 345, 347-351, 356, 2009; Ortloff et al. 1982:581, 583-588, 591-593, Ortloff et al. 1985). 2. Flood diversion channels: used mainly in the Tiwanaku and Lukurmata areas of the Bolivian altiplano to intercept and shunt excessive 285 rainfall runoff from adjacent hill slopes directly into Lake Titicaca (Kolata and Ortloff 1996: 115, 121, 147, 149-50; Ortloff 1996) in order to modulate ground water level with respect to planting surfaces. Some application to Moquegua Valley mountain region terraces (in Wari and Tiwanaku colonies) to divert excessive rainfall runoff in terrace supply canals into downhill spillage channels draining into quebradas. Use of Pre-Moche or Moche Great Trenches for flood water diversion (Ortloff 2009). 3. Ground water recharging: north coast Moche and Chimu sunken gardens (wachaques) and Chan Chan compound wells (Ortloff 1993) activated by canal water seepage from field systems; Tiwanaku and Pampa Koani use of spring-fed canals to deliver water to local raised field water troughs to alter local water table height and chemical nutrient composition (Ortloff 2009). 4. Springs, wells, and minor sunken gardens: Moche Valley pukio (spring) systems; north coast Chimu wells in Chan Chan (Ortloff 1993: 343, 356, 364) and use by earlier north and south coast cultures; minor sunken garden systems (cochas)in late to post-Tiwanaku (Kolata and Ortloff 1996:134). Use of perpetual pukio-sourced canals for valley bottom agriculture at Caral and other sites in the Supe Valley (Ortloff 2009). 5. Runoff interception and river canal shunts to modulate groundwater levels: Tiwanaku and Pampa Koani raised field systems (Ortloff 1996: 156, 157, 159, 166; Kolata and Ortloff 1996: 128, 134-137, 148-151) laced with main canals having elevated weir structures that activate at high water to drain excessive runoff water directly to Lake Titicaca; possible Chiripa antecedents; Chimu canal systems near Farfán (Jequetepeque Valley) with trenches uphill of canal systems to intercept rainfall runoff from Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies mountainous terrain (Ortloff 2009) diverted into quebradas to limit inflow damage to major canals. 6. Terrace agriculture: post-Tiwanaku V, highland Wari, Inca polities, planting surfaces moved to higher elevations during low average rainfall periods. Use of high elevation canals supplied by snowmelt channeled water to irrigate terrace systems (Ortloff 2009). 7. Sunken gardens (cochas): used by late and post-Tiwanaku V altiplano cultures to supplement pasturalism-derived food supplies. Chimu coastal wachaques near Chan Chan (Moseley and Deeds 1982:31, 33, 35). 8. Lake Titicaca raised field agricultural zone shifts to incorporate the optimum raised field moisture levels for subsiding or increasing lake and rainfall level: optimization method applied to field systems on Pampa Koani (Ortloff 2009). 9. Underground galleries and channels collecting groundwater for surface field agriculture:(south coast Nasca galleries (Schreiber and Lancho 1995; 2006). 10. Canal and river seepage utilization: north coast Chimu (Chan Chan wells, aquifer recharge from field system seepage; Ortloff 1993:356, 363); Moquegua Valley Chirabaya coastal ground seep agriculture (Clement and Moseley 1991:430, 434-435, 441); north coast valley mouth agriculture at Casma, Virú, and Moche Valleys. 11. High and mid-sierra reservoir and lagoon water storage and transport to coastal valleys: Chimu, lower Jequetepeque and Lambayeque Valley systems; also Moche Nepeña and San José reservoirs and use in mid-sierra farming. Probable water delivery by geological fault (or canals) to the Supe Valley to maintain high water table and springs to support Caral agricultural base (Villafana 1986; Ortloff 2009). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) 12. Canal collection and diversion of runoff to modify ground water profiles: Pampa Koani Tiwanaku systems area on the Taraco peninsula (Ortloff 1996). 13. Snow-melt water collection channels directed to mountainside terraces: Upper highlands Moquegua Valley drainage, post-Tiwanaku V, Estuqueña and Wari terraces–technique used in elevated temperature periods to provide water in the highlands. 14. Shift to terrace agriculture when Lake Titicaca completely covers raised fields:Late post-Tiwanaku, possible reuse of early Tiwanaku terraces in Inca times. 15. Multi-valley transport/distribution canals: Chicama-Moche Inter-valley canal, MotupeLeche-Lambayeque inter-valley canals, Lima complex (Chillón-Rimac-Lurín inter-valley canals) used as possible drought remediation measure based on redistribution of excess water beyond that needed for valley agriculture, to large land areas in adjacent valleys with small, intermittent rivers (Kosok 1965: map page 34, figure 8, map page 146). 16. Hydraulic efficiency improvements in canal design by cross-section, slope, and wall roughness changes: (Ortloff 1993:345, 347-351, 356, 2009; Ortloff et al. 1982, 1985); canal hydraulic design changes to maximize low canal flow rates during droughts. Improvements also include canal spatial relocations related to river down-cutting and inlet stranding. 17. Lomas farming: fog condensation agriculture in coastal, natural surface field–yields amplified during wet periods (Moseley 1992a:41). 18. Adaptions toward a marine resource base: For drought affected land regions with access to marine resources this shift can provide an addi- - 286 tional protein source (Moseley 1992b:5, 7, 1012, 16, 22, 33). 19. Adaptions toward sierra pastoralism: As a drought response, the shift from land agriculture to high sierra animal herding can provide additional food resources. The adaptive strategies set out in Table 1 indicate conscious efforts to control water supplies by a variety of technologies specific to different geographical areas and agricultural systems. While many of these strategies are related to observation of long-term climate trends (3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 17, 18, 19) others provided specific defenses against shortterm El Niño related flooding (1, 2, 3, 5, 12, 14), and drought events (1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19). Table 1 indicates a library of agro-engineering responses to both long and short term climate variations over many time periods and demonstrates that observation of climate over time and related technological innovations and controls were important factors in system design and operation. MODELING DROUGHT STRESS: KEY COMPONENT FACTORS IN HIGHLAND/LOWLAND RUN-OFF RATIO (R) During drought, coastal farmland that normally supports an abundance of crop types can sustain only a reduced number of types with low water demands. Crop yields are reduced in response to lower water supplies. Sierra rangeland, in contrast, may support pastoralism and some form of agriculture due to elevated rainfall amounts at higher altitudes (but which, during drought periods, are lower than normal). One reason for the difference between coastal and highland agriculture under drought is related to the soil types that influence rainfall infiltration, runoff, and transport rates, given highland rainfall sources. Highland soils retain water within their porous structure until saturation is 287 reached. Past this level runoff occurs. Channeled runoff is further subject to evaporation, seepage, and subsurface porous medium retention effects through a different set of nonlinear relationships than the storage/saturation effect, resulting in imbalances in the rainfall/runoff delivery rate. To illustrate the effect of drought stress and the hydrological relationships between rainfall, soils, runoff, and flow losses, an illustration from the Moquegua Basin is useful. The Moquegua Basin lies on the Pacific watershed to the west of Lake Titicaca. This river system is 139 km in length, with headwaters reaching slightly above 5,100 masl. Along the Moquegua coast precipitation is negligible, but it increases gradually in the interior with altitude. However, the quantity of rainwater only exceeds (saturated) retention values in the 19 percent of the basin that is above 3900 masl. Between 3900 and 4500 m, average rainfall is about 360 mm/yr, of which 260 mm is absorbed at saturation and 100 mm is available as runoff (Perú, ONERN 1976). In this zone, a 10 percent, or 36 mm, decline in rainfall to 324 mm decreases runoff by 36 percent from 100 mm to 64 mm. Given a specific soil type with a given retention capability, the soil always retains the same amount of water, so a 15 percent decrease in rainfall results in a 54 percent decrease in runoff. In the elevation zone between 4500 and 4900 masl, rainfall averages 480 mm/yr and a 10 percent or 15 percent rainfall reduction results in runoff reductions of 21.8 percent and 32.7 percent respectively. Thus the asymmetric disparity between rainfall and runoff reduction diminishes as precipitation increases. Comprising less than 3 percent of the Moquegua Basin, precipitation in the zone of alpine tundra above 4900 masl is principally in the form of snow and ice (Perú, ONERN 1976). The runoff contribution is not known because an unknown amount of this moisture is retained in glaciers and snow-fields. Nonetheless, for the upper river basin as a whole, rainfall declines of Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies 10 to 15 percent result in runoff reductions of 25 to 40 percent or more. Significantly, the asymmetric relationship between rainfall and runoff also works in reverse. Increased precipitation rapidly saturates the soil which then discards water and amplifies runoff. This effect was prevalent in the first two centuries C.E. when precipitation rose by 20 to 25 percent and the runoff by 72 to 90 percent. Drought stress is exacerbated by the fact that once rainfall saturates the soil and excess water is released, some surface runoff is lost to evaporation and seepage. Due to these factors, the Moquegua River loses about 4 percent of its flow per kilometer in the arid sierra at elevations around 2250 masl. Other than during spring floods, the river channel does not normally carry surface flow at elevations below 1200 m. Farming in the coastal section of the drainage depends on springs fed by subsurface groundwater flows originating high in the river basin. The relationship between highland rainfall and coastal spring flow is highly asymmetrical because subsurface water flows through porous geological strata. Similar to soils, porous deposits have different hydraulic conductivity and saturation values. Although these values are poorly known, there are indirect indications that coastal spring flow may have dropped by 80 percent during the 1100 C.E. drought (Ortloff 1989:457-477). These calculations are approximations for the Moquegua Basin. Other soil adsorption and precipitation values characterize other drainages. Nonetheless, relationships between rainfall and runoff are always nonlinear, so drought always exerts asymmetrically greater stress on runoff farming than on rainfall farming. The runoff not directly channeled into rivers is diminished en route to coastal zones by further infiltration into increasingly porous soils (adding to the local water table profile) as well as by evaporation losses. The resulting coastal ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) river hydrographs track the availability of coastal irrigation water over time. Of course, the details will vary between coastal valleys as functions of local soil geomorphology, topography, evapotranspiration, agricultural productivity potential, and temperature and humidity history. The net effect is one of a nonlinear, but generally similar, relationship between unit amounts of input rainwater at different altitudes and times, and net deliverable water to coastal irrigation systems with time lags. From this discussion, it may be concluded that in dry periods rain at high altitudes may sustain some form of agriculture in these zones, but coastal agriculture derived from runoff into rivers from the same watershed will experience a severe deficit of irrigation water. In terms of quantifying the runoff effect, the Runoff Ratio (R) is defined as the average net runoff rate from an area divided by the average rainfall delivery rate to the same area. Here R=0 denotes zero runoff and R=1 denotes that all delivered rainfall to an area converts to runoff, implying a total saturation condition. VULNERABILITY INDEX (1-V) Figure 4 shows a plot of the main agricultural strategies practiced by Andean civilizations. A vulnerability index is defined relative to available rainfall levels. The first entry, raised field agriculture (Index 1), was widely practiced by MH Tiwanaku III-V around the southern and western periphery of Lake Titicaca. Tiwanaku groundwater based agricultural systems are largely invulnerable to short-term drought due to the continuous arrival of subsurface water from earlier rainfall in the immense collection zone around the lake. Because groundwater transport velocities are on the order of a few centimeters per month, groundwater from distant collection basins may have originated as infiltrated rain that occurred many years earlier. The groundwater based systems are likewise relatively invulnerable to seasonal excessive - 288 rainfall because elaborate field drainage systems shunt water directly into the lake, thus limiting infiltration into the water table (Table 1). Because the collection basin rainfall rates and Lake Titicaca height vary with seasonal and climate-related rainfall/runoff fluctuations (Binford and Kolata 1996:37-38), the raised field water table height sufficient to maintain agriculture shifts vertically and laterally within the extensive lacustrine field systems (Ortloff 1996; Kolata et al. 1996:205), and productive farming zones can likewise be shifted. This indicates that not all of the raised fields in the Lukurmata area north of Tiwanaku were farmed simultaneously, but only those areas with water trough zones supplied by spring water and elevated groundwater profiles at the correct height for agriculture were utilized, with remaining areas allowed to fallow. Prolonged drought over many years can destroy the special heat storage features that provided frost damage protection under diurnal and seasonal temperature variations (Kolata and Ortloff 1996:130) and decrease the height of the water table in raised field troughs necessary to sustain agriculture. The raised field systems can, nevertheless, be optimized to highland climate conditions and cycles to produce high crop yields through interventions shown in Table 1, and as demonstrated by modern resurrection and use of these systems (Kolata 1996:203, 206207, 226, 228-230). The next least vulnerable agricultural system to rainfall fluctuations is a variant of raised field systems–sunken gardens (Index 2). These systems are pits excavated to the phreatic zone and are mostly found as a last resort drought response system used when the water table has declined out of reach of plant root systems. While sunken gardens are common in the 1100 C.E. post-collapse settlements around Tiwanaku, similar wachaques are also found in Peruvian north coastal valleys in response to the 289 pan-Andean LIP drought. Being primarily a drought remediation measure, these systems have no defense against excessive rainfall and groundwater level rises, because simple drainage paths usually do not exist. At the next level of vulnerability are the terraces widely used by Inca, Wari, and postTiwanaku highland civilizations (Index 3). Terraces are mostly supplied by rainfall and provide a well-drained agricultural system that is effective during rainy seasons. Other variants are supplied by snow-melt and channel water during periods of low rainfall and elevated temperature (particularly in the upland Moquegua area). As rainfall diminishes, these systems generally become marginal for production unless supplied by channeled water. Next in increasing order of vulnerability (Index 4) is canal-fed irrigation as practiced primarily by north and south coast civilizations. Figure 4 indicates that such systems are only viable in the presence of highland rainfall exceeding saturation conditions. As such, if coastal agriculture flourishes, then highland agriculture has an excess of water supplies due to the nonlinear input/delivery R relationship. The highlands appear to always have demonstrated less vulnerability to agricultural stress regardless of the level of rainfall, provided the technology to use the available water is adequately developed in each ecological zone, and drainage technology to control the water table height is in place. Generally, long canals are more vulnerable (Index 5) than short canals due to greater seepage and evaporation losses, tectonic/seismic distortions, and higher technological demands for design, low-angle surveying (Ortloff 1995:60, 70-71 ), and construction. Yet more vulnerable (Index 6) are the coastal seeps that supply agriculture, mainly in northern Chile and in the Ilo area of the Moquegua Valley (Ortloff 1989: Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies 471-472). Such systems rely on groundwater seepage to coastal bluffs over long underground distances, and thus are only marginally productive compared to other delivery systems. Survival of the more vulnerable agricultural systems is questionable past a critical level (line DD, Figure 4) and extinction of highly vulnerable systems is inevitable whenever reconfiguration to lower vulnerability systems is impossible. In the presence of yearly rainfall and runoff variations, high vulnerability systems must have superior technology, innovation, and modification features to maintain agricultural production. Figure 4 plots a Vulnerability Index (1-V) such that the largest values of the index denote the least vulnerable agricultural systems. TECHNOLOGY AND TECHNOLOGICAL CHANGE UNDER CLIMATIC DURESS Andean agricultural systems have a long history of evolution and improvement over time. A sample of agricultural strategies (Figure 3) is shown for modified and unmodified water and land surface variables. An initial choice of an agricultural system fitting local ecological conditions is made by early inhabitants. System evolution proceeds through observation of agroproduction changes in response to field system design changes. Key requirements are the preservation of the system and its efficient functioning under seasonal weather fluctuations, as well as those arising from large-scale climate fluctuations. Therefore, the ability to modify an agricultural system to maintain sustainability in anticipation of climate-related changes in water supply is part of the original concept of the system as shown by the interventions listed in Table 1. The agro-system modifications must be performed more rapidly than the climate variation effect unfolds, e.g., system modifications are effective when long-term climate changes are initially observed and system modifications are carried out in anticipation of a long-term trend. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Therefore, the Vulnerability Index (1-V) of an agricultural system depends upon the sustainability of an initial design choice in the face of weather and climate variations, as well as the ability to modify technology (T) in time (t), denoted as (dT/dt), faster than the climateinduced creation/evolution rate of a climate related disaster (dD/dt). AGRICULTURAL SUSTAINABILITY MODEL Several key factors influencing agricultural stainability have been discussed from the viewpoint of agricultural systems strategies. These factors, and others, are next combined to produce a trend equation where increases or decreases in each term imply a net increase or decrease in the agricultural sustainability (Q) of a society. The quantities in the equation (Q, R, S, P, V, Y, dT/dt and dD/dt) are non-dimensional values normalized to the maximum reference state for each variable. A large value of Q connotes agricultural sustainability, while a small value denotes the opposite. From the foundation of the above discussion, a simplified model equation, based upon agricultural parameters only (i.e., excluding implied or induced social, political, economic, and/or governmental system effects) can be postulated as: Q=S+Y•A•R+(1-V)+P’(2-P’) (dT/dt)/(dD/dt) where R is the Runoff Ratio (0<R<1), S the agricultural storage capacity (0<S<1) normalized to Smx where S=0 represents zero crop storage and S=1 represents total storage of all unconsumed crops. The quantity Y•A•R represents the main comestible crop yield per land unit area times the total land area times the available water supply to the area normalized so that 0<YCA•R<1. Here the zero limit is a trend toward poor crop yield over a small land area with poor water supplies, while the unity limit indicates the best crop selection over the largest possible agricultural area sustained by - 290 irrigation. The term, P’=P/Pmx is defined as the population density ratio where Pmx is the maximum population sustainable by the in-place agrosystem. If P’=1, then P’(2-P’)=1 at the maximum population level balanced with the food supply. If P'=0, then P’(2 - P’) = 0, indicating that a very small population exists (such as may occur after a natural or man-made disaster). Thus: 0<P’(2-P’)<1. As before, (1-V) is the agricultural Vulnerability Index (0 < V < 1) for the agricultural system involved as shown in Figure 4. For the remaining terms, 0< dT/dt<1 represents the time rate of technology (T) change to surmount a long term climate effect (excessive rainfall, drought) on agricultural production. Here the maximum dT/dt value is assumed to be unity to represent a technology growth rate typical of most advanced agriculture based societies. Here dT/dt can be large due to technical innovations listed in Table 1. The dD/dt maximum value may be typically very large for rapidly evolving disasters such as El Niño events (reducing Q dramatically in a short period). The 1<dD/dt<4 term is representative of the time rate of change of disaster-producing climate factors. Therefore, if dT/dt÷dD/dt=dT/dD$1, the rate of development of technology to defend against climate-induced changes in water supply exceeds the rate of disaster evolution on the same time scale, then a positive effect on agricultural sustainability Q exists. If a sudden El Niño flood event occurs beyond the defense mechanisms’ ability to protect, then dT/dD÷dD/dt is a small number indicating no contribution to agricultural sustainability, Q. If, however, a climate related disaster evolved at the same rate as a defensive technology, then dT/dt÷dD/dt$1, and then Q shows increased sustainability. If P’<1, then the labor force to make rapid dT/dt corrections is not available and Q de- 291 creases. If P’.1 in the presence of a declining agricultural supply, the agricultural resources are inadequate to feed a large workforce over time to ensure rapid dT/dt changes to increase Q. Thus, only a population balanced with agricultural supply (including storage) promotes large sustainability Q values. The relative value of Q (0.2<Q<4) (increasing or decreasing) applied to highland and coastal societies at different time intervals then gives indication of some underlying factors behind the relative agricultural sustainability of one society over another–at least based on agricultural parameters in different time intervals. Overall, from the Q equation, sustainability is enhanced when the runoff ratio/water supply (R), land area (A) in cultivation and crop storage (S) are all high, a stable population is balanced with agricultural output (P’=1), the system vulnerability is low, the technology innovation rate exceeds or equals that of the disaster evolution rate, and soil productivity (Y)/unit of water input is high. In general, high Q indicates a successful, wellmanaged society with foresight to maintain a sustainable agricultural base despite weather and climate variations. Low Q indicates gaps in the perception of threats that will cause an agricultural system to fail or operate in a marginal manner. Of course, for extreme, longlasting negative climate variations such as longterm drought, Q must ultimately drift to smaller and smaller values indicating that sustainability is no longer possible. We now use the Q equation to analyze historical patterns, ANDEAN HISTORICAL PATTERNS In the Uhle-Rowe chronological sequence, each period is characterized by a dominant polity (or polities) with distinct societal, political, and economic structures, governmental systems, architectural and settlement patterns, ceramic and religious iconography, and agroengineering practices. Frequently, one dominant trait characterizes the period. During horizons, Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies one society exerts overarching influence over vast territories. During intermediate periods, dominant regional states may exert control primarily through branching government structures capable of integrating adjacent territories into the same ideological and political template. Although some revision regarding Formative and Preceramic societies such as Caral, 24 km inland in the Supe Valley (Figure 1), will undoubtedly alter previous understanding about origins of coastal society development, too little is known about climate effects in that period (3000-2100 B.C.E.) to warrant incorporation into the present discussion. The Early Horizon is characterized by highland Chavín influence diffused into Peruvian north and central coast radiation centers showing similar, but locally interpreted, artistic traditions in iconographic, ceramic, and textile traits. The expansion of Chavín influence from highland sources appears to have been religionbased. Minor south coastal societies (Paracas Cavernas) arose at this time and had regional influence. During the EIP major coastal architectural and agricultural complexes were begun by the Moche who were dominant on the Peruvian north coast. Lima cultures were preeminent on the central coast, and the Paracas and later Nasca polities were established on the south coast. All were characterized by some form of limited centralized administrative control. The minor north highlands Recuay culture and the Huarpa society of the central highlands arose in this period, but had only local extent and influence and built only minor irrigation works compared to the major coastal and highland polities. During the MH there was a shift back to highland dominance with the late Tiwanaku (Phases IV and V) and Wari states dominating much of the southern and central Andean ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) coastal and highland regions through their political, economic, military, and religious influences. Large agricultural complexes in the form of raised fields, in the case of Tiwanaku, and terraces, in the case of Wari, were constructed in conjunction with secondary administrative centers such as the Tiwanaku centers of Omo, Pajchiri, Lukurmata, and Wankarani and the Wari centers of Pikillaqta, Cajamarquilla, Viracocha Pampa, Cerro Baúl, and Wari Willka. The subsequent LIP is characterized by a shift back to prominence of coastal societies with the Chimu ultimately occupying a north coast zone from the Chancay Valley to the Lambayeque Valley. The Chimu incorporated a complex of new administrative centers (e.g., Farfán, Manchan, Purgatorio) with older ceremonial centers (Pacatnamú, Chotuna) in north coast valleys adjacent to the Moche Valley where their capital of Chan Chan was positioned. The idea of centrally administered, multi-valley agro-engineering complexes directed by satellite administrative centers sharing common political, social, and religious practices appears to be a central feature of this period. Ica culture is dominant in the south-central coastal areas at this time, with the minor intermediatehighland Recuay and Cajamarca societies having only regional influence. Military conquest and complete dominance of highland and coastal polities by the Inca state occurs in the LH. It appears coincidentally that the EH-EIP-MH-LIP-LH chronological sequence somewhat corresponds to a geographic alteration of prominence between highland and coastal polities. Because the effects of climate on agricultural systems had some role in the sustainability of Andean civilizations, these effects are next discussed in terms of the Q equation. - 292 HORIZON AND INTERMEDIATE PERIOD SUSTAINABILITY CYCLES IN TERMS OF THE Q EQUATION The climate change history reflected in the Quelccaya, Huascarán, and Titicaca cores indicates a drought in the late EIP. This drought seems to have had a role in the decline of the coastal Moche and Nasca polities at their traditional sites, while the highland Tiwanaku and Wari polities began their rise to the prominence observed later in the MH. A drought-induced lower Runoff Ratio (R) affected coastal zones disproportionately. Coastal canal-based irrigation systems have high vulnerability (low 1-V) because they are runoff-dependent. Known coastal agricultural storage facilities are minimal and population apparently was in balance with pre-drought agricultural resources (i.e., balance is taken to mean that agricultural resources are adequate to sustain the given population size). Yields for irrigation-based agriculture are high, provided R is high. While technology (Table 1) to modify and defend agricultural systems was limited in early EIP times, and a slowly evolving drought crisis developed, dT/dt÷dD/dt<1 resulted because technical innovations alone could not overcome extreme long-term drought, even at sites with high soil productivity. The net EIP result is a Q decline of coastal polities (Figure 5). While large populations can provide labor resources, unless a technology is present (or can be rapidly developed) to utilize these labor resources, then large populations adapted to food supply levels developed during wet periods suddenly become liabilities when drought onset is rapid. With reference to the Q equation, drought then reduces the agricultural sustainability compared to pre-drought periods, e.g., Q decreases during droughts for Vulnerability Index 4 and 5 systems characteristic of the north and south coast EIP, where low R and S prevailed. Some migration of the Moche to 293 northern coastal valleys and the creation of new centers such as Pampa Grande occurred in late EIP and early MH times, indicative of the need to restore Q to higher levels, primarily by utilizing high agro-technology levels (dT/dt) in combination with the canal-interconnected, higher flow rate (R large) rivers (such as the Leche, Chicama, and Lambayeque Rivers) with vast, fertile land areas (large YCACR). Highland Tiwanaku and Wari cultures achieved high levels of sustainability Q during late EIP and MH times due to elevated highland rainfall rates. Because of their design features that imply large dT/dt, the low vulnerability Tiwanaku raised field systems and Wari terrace systems flourished under both high rainfall and intermediate-term drought conditions (Table 1). The highland systems have high R, S, Y, 1-V, with balanced P’. Highland civilizations’ sustainability Q continued high through the MH and apparently led to the diffusion of highland iconography and architectural patterns to the north coast polities, although the exact processes supporting this diffusion are still the subject of active research. Highland rainfall was apparently adequate during the late part of the EIP, so that Wari terrace agriculture flourished. However, towards the end of the MH diminishing rainfall levels undermined the productivity of these systems as sustained drought took hold after 1100 C.E. With respect to the Q equation, highland Tiwanaku in the late EIP and early MH was characterized by low vulnerability (V) raised field systems (Table 1), large storage facilities (S), high yields from raised field agriculture (YCACR large), large water supply, high dT/dt but slowly increasing dD/dt as drought began to reduce rainfall levels by 5 to 10 percent from previous norms, and a large population that could be utilized to modify the location of the agriculturally productive raised field zones in the Lake Titicaca area. The net result is a high Q Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies value that indicates good sustainability through the MH until the deepening drought that starts in the early LIP. At the end of the MH, highland polities undergo very slow collapse due to effects of long term drought, while coastal polities (Chimu, Sicán, and Lambayeque) appear to flourish. This can be explained by observing that while R, S, and 1-V were low in coastal areas, dT/dD, Y, and P’ were high, reflecting the development of advanced transport and distribution canal technology, sufficient labor to implement major agro-engineering projects that altered canal placement and design to accommodate drought effects (dT/dt large), and the availability of marine-based food supplies to supplement land food resources. Coastal valley canal systems can be easily modified to manage reduced water supplies. This is evident with the reconfiguration of intravalley canals (Ortloff et al. 1985) and the development of large, inter-valley canal systems (e.g,. the Chicama-Moche, Motupe-Leche-Lambayeque, and Chillón-Rimac-Lurín systems; Kosok 1965: map page 24, map page 86, figure 8 page 90, map page 146; Ortloff 1993; Ortloff et al. 1982) that redistribute available water over long distances between valleys to large field system complexes. While water supplies were adequate, low-slope surveying accuracies (large dT/dt) extended canals to larger cultivatable areas (Ortloff 1995). When water supplies declined due to drought, canal replacement and reshaping for hydraulic efficiency improvements provided an optimum strategy (increasing dT/dt further) to distribute available water supplies brought in by inter- and intra-valley networks. The potential to transfer main agricultural zones to higher flow rate north coast valleys may be thought of as another variant of “storage capability S” or simply an increase in R. Therefore, sustainability of coastal societies under declining water resources is aided by their ability to alter ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) irrigation systems (technology and placement), while highland raised field and terrace systems cannot be easily modified, and are thus also susceptible to long term drought extinction. To illustrate this point, while the Tiwanaku raised field systems have high 1-V, and water table height and agricultural area movement was somewhat controllable (Table 1) in the presence of extended drought, an option to lower all 80 square kilometers of the TiwanakuLukurmata raised field planting surfaces to accommodate the late MH drought-induced sinking water table would have required a vast labor input over many years to achieve marginal benefit. While a large Chimu labor force on the coast could have been productively employed in canal modification and inter-valley connection projects and expansion into large land areas, even the large highland labor force was not sufficient to modify 80 square kilometers of raised fields effectively in time to lower the levels of large enough areas to accommodate the declining water table levels induced by sustained drought, although lateral transfer to high water table areas provided some limited relief. Therefore, higher dT/dt is possible for coastal irrigation systems due to more easily modified canals, use of inter-valley canals that redistribute water, and relocation of agricultural production centers to water-rich valleys while highland systems are limited in design modifications to react to long term drought, but are highly resilient to short term drought. Although highland agriculture based upon terraces can move upslope in drought conditions, Y decreases due to poorer soils and decreasing farming area. The lower runoff R available to coastal zones can still be better utilized due to higher Y from fluvialdeposited soils, more effectively utilized labor resources, and high dT/dt from various strategies, despite the somewhat higher vulnerability index of canal systems. - 294 Eventually, coastal systems had the potential for recovery as normal levels of rainfall resumed in the late LIP. The water supply advantage to highland systems (large Q, R, S, 1-V, YCA, P’, high dT/dt and low dD/dt) was again manifest in the LH to the advantage of the Inca. Their policy of population relocation to revitalize high and lowland agricultural centers, however, saw the end of many LIP polities operating in their previous political-economic and socio-political modes. A summary of Q equation results over time is shown in Figure 5 for the major polities discussed above. SUMMARY MH highland expansion/radiation appears to be associated with low vulnerability agricultural systems and adequate rainfall. The late EIP and mid-LIP are associated with steady but lower average rainfall levels with coastal polities somewhat maintaining their full population potential based upon large arable land areas and balanced populations. Coastal polities’ choice of farming methods based on irrigation technology in extensive fertile valley areas together with superior irrigation management skills provided the basis for further expansion of these polities in time. In the presence of extended drought, however, the ability to modify canal systems and relocate population to different valley enclaves with better water supplies and the ability to supplement plant foods with marine resources extended sustainability of these coastal societies. For example, while the Chimu could direct the expansion of Chan Chan towards the coastline to intercept the declining water table with urban wells, construct sunken gardens, start construction of the massive Inter-valley Canal to direct Chicama River water to revitalize the desiccated Moche Valley intra-valley canal networks, and easily modify intra-valley canal systems, only small sunken gardens, limited use of distant raised field areas, and pastoralism were possible 295 as alternative highland urban center survival strategies. In the Moche Valley at least 30 percent more terrain was farmed in the past than until recently. Agricultural systems bear widespread evidence of disastrous destruction and initial loss of land due to exceptionally severe flooding during a 1100 C.E. El Niño event during a long term drought in the 1100-1400 C.E. period that disrupted many northern valleys (Ortloff 1993:334-337, 339). The building of the Chicama-Moche Inter-valley Canal was a strategy to direct water from the larger flow rate Chicama River to the dysfunctional Moche Valley Vinchansao Canal to resupply the north side Moche Valley intra-valley irrigation system as a response to extended drought in the midto-late LIP. However, in the presence of such extended drought, neither the Inter-valley canal, nor the intra-valley distribution canals carried sufficient water to maintain the earlier field systems over time. As part of the Chimu strategy of dispersal of fields to water sources, feeder canals from the Inter-valley Canal to the Lescano fields south of the Chicama River, and to the Chicama Valley fields, helped sustain the Chimu Empire in this period. Ultimately, however, large land areas were lost as river runoff dwindled in the presence of sustained drought and tectonically-induced river down-cutting stranded inlets, forcing loss of arable land (Ortloff et al. 1985). Reclamation efforts in the Moche Valley shifted to low areas where sunken gardens could access ground water, but this strategy could not match the volume of past field production. Northward military thrusts to incorporate valleys from Jequetepeque to Lambayeque, with their higher flow rate rivers and potential for large agricultural domains proceeded in this period, most probably as a survival policy to maintain the Chimu empire. The highland counterpart drought in the late MH involves extensive use of pastoral Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies resources to add to high productivity brought about by largely invulnerable agricultural systems–at least where short term, as opposed to long term, drought is concerned. Early Tiwanaku and Wari expansion is associated with adequate water supplies and low vulnerability systems tailored for optimum productivity in a highland weather/climate environment. Upon transition into an extended drought continuing beyond 1100 C.E., LIP coastal societies manifest at least transient sustainability due to high dT/dt levels, while the Tiwanaku state declined slowly due to the lack of possible modifications to their agricultural systems in the face of extended drought. Eventually, both highland and coastal polities underwent decline in the late MH and LIP and only the return of water resources to previous norms in the early LH reactivated elements of Andean society–albeit now under Inca military domination. Under higher rainfall conditions in the late MH and throughout the LH, terraces replaced previously abandoned fields in the Inca dominated highlands. Abandoned agricultural terrain in conquered territory was repopulated with groups from dissimilar territories. An overview of the historical record appears to show some shifts of major population centers over time, and shifts of dominant polities from coastal in the Formative, to highland in the EH, back to coastal in the EIP, to highland in MH, to coastal in LIP, then back to highland in the LH. In view of the previous discussion, this trend appears at least partially related to climate shifts and their effect upon the agricultural bases of different polities. Highland and lowland environments offer different options for responding to drought. When highland rainfall declined by 5 to 15 percent from pervious yearly norms during the 1100-1500 C.E. dry period, runoff reaching the littoral desert declined on the order of 30 to 50 percent or more. The amount of land under irrigation decreased proportionally, as did agrar- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) ian yields. Long term corollary declines in population are documented in a number of northern and southern desert valleys (Owen 1993a: Appendix F, 1993b: 12; Willey 1953:19-37, 390-395; Wilson 1988:357-358). Although use of marine resources intensified, there were few means to mitigate farming shortfalls on the coast. Reconstructing canals to make water delivery more hydraulically efficient and lining channels with silt and clay to limit seepage was undertaken in the lower Moche Valley (Ortloff et al. 1985:85, 87, 88-90, 93, 95-96) as a defensive strategy to conserve precious water resources. Population centers clustered around available river resources in valleys under Chimu control. In the lower Moquegua Valley, farmers diversified plant foods to include drought tolerant domesticates and wild species. The most dramatic attempts to alleviate coastal food loss entailed the utilization of ground water wachaques during 1100-1300 C.E. dry period as surface water sources diminished. Hydrological conditions conducive to agrarian and demographic recuperation did not return to the littoral valleys until the drought abated and above normal runoff and rainfall occurred in the Little Ice Age, post-1400 C.E. (LH). By this time, however, the highland Inca had conquered the drought-depressed coast and thereafter littoral populations were decimated by the convergent catastrophes of Old World pandemics and Spanish subjugation. While drought can be a prime reason for change in the political and social context of different polities, other nature-derived effects in the form of collateral disasters involving earthquakes and El Niño events transpired during the centuries of drought and contributed to stress. One documented incident warrants brief review. When the 1100-1300 C.E. drought began in southern Peru, the Moquegua drainage was occupied by the post-Tiwanaku V Chiribaya culture. This society was mostly focused upon the coast but also extended into the lower arid - 296 sierra. Exceptionally severe El Niño flooding decimated the cultural landscape around 1360 C.E., and the Chiribaya occupation was largely obliterated (Moseley et al. 1992; Satterlee 1993; Satterlee et al. 2000/2001). Demographic recuperation was minimal (Owen 1993a:535-537) and post-disaster population levels in the lower drainage remained some eighty percent below pre-flood levels. Poor recovery is attributable to continued drought. Calculations for one Chiribaya irrigation system suggest that water supplies and productivity had declined by at least eighty percent when dryness was at its peak (Clement and Moseley 1991: figure 9; Ortloff 1989:472-475). Thus, the collateral El Niño disaster struck a population that had minimal resources for recovery. CONCLUSIONS The Andes are a natural laboratory for investigating climate change and its dependent societal consequences because many proxy records of its past climate exist. These include, but are not limited to, lake sediments, glacial moraines, and mountain ice caps. All are sensitive to global climate change. As a center of ancient civilization, the Andean region offers a long record of response to environmental change as seen though analysis of the history of agricultural systems. Upon examination, alterations between highland and coastal society sustainability patterns appear to bear some relation to some of the known climate cycle variations, although environmental determinism is not suggested as a prime cause, because many social, political, and economic changes can be induced by sustainability problems in the agricultural base. The reverse is also true; social, political, and economic factors influence the sustainability base. In terms of key variables R, P, Y, A, S, V, dT/dt, dD/dt, at least some of the underlying correlatives for the sustainability of different 297 societies with different agricultural systems that are subject to different climatic conditions, provide a partial basis for underlying factors that lead to changes in cultural patterns and agricultural sustainability. Because only fragmentary details of Andean climate cycles are known from ice and lake core data, only an approximate hypothesis can be offered at present to explain the effects of changing climate upon socio-political structure and sustainability. For the present, however, some factors underlying the agricultural basis of societies have been discussed and preliminary arguments have been advanced which relate climate change to observed agricultural pattern changes. 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Liu 1995 Late Glacial Stage and Holocene Tropical Ice Core Records from Huascarán, Peru. Science 269:46-50. Tosi, Joseph A., Jr. 1960 Zonas de vida natural en el Perú: Memoria explicativa sobre el mapa ecológico del Perú. Lima: Instituto Interamericano de Ciencias Agrícolas de la OEA, Zona Andina. Proyecto 32, Programa de Cooperación Técnica. Tung, Tiffiny 2007 The Village of Beringa at the Periphery of the Wari Empire: A Site Overview and New Radiocarbon Dates. Andean Past 8:253-286. Villafana Avila, Juan Fernando 1986 Sistemas hidráulicos incas. Lima: Lluvia Editores. Willey, Gordon 1953 Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the Virú Valley, Perú. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 155. Williams, Patrick Ryan 1997 Disaster in the Development of Agriculture and the Evolution of Social Complexity in the South- Central Andean Sierra. Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Florida. Wilson, David J. 1988 Prehispanic Settlement Patterns in the Lower Santa Valley Peru: A Regional Perspective on the Origins and Development of Complex North Coast Society. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 300 Figure 1: Map of Northern and Central Peru showing some of the geographic features (in italic type) and sites (in uncial type) mentioned in the text. The names of modern cities are written in all capitals. 301 - Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies Figure 2: Map of Southern Peru and the Lake Titicaca Region of Bolivia showing some of the geographic features (in italic type) and sites (in uncial type) mentioned in the text. The names of modern cities are written in all capitals. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Figure 3. Agricultural strategies for artificial (modified) and natural planting surfaces for surface and subsurface water sources. - 302 303 - Ortloff & Moseley: Agricultural strategies Figure 4. Vulnerability Index (1 - V) for different types of agricultural systems and water supply methodologies (rainfall intercepted and runoff) indexed by numbers 1-6. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 304 Figure 5:(best-estimate) application of the Q (agricultural sustainability) equation for Moche, Tiwanaku, and Chimu societies in their heartland areas. The D1 notation indicates the time of droughtrelated collapse of the (EIP) Moche V society in the Moche Valley area; the D2 notation denotes loss of agricultural sustainability due to a later drought period during the 12th Century CE affecting (MH) Tiwanaku and (LIP) Chimu societies. (The Chimu curve shown applies only to the Moche Valley capital area not for expansion period valley sites to the north.) The curves indicate that the droughtrelated decline in agricultural productivity most probably underwrote subsequent changes in societal structure and agricultural strategies of these societies as previously noted. INTRODUCTION TO “EXPERIENCES WITH THE INSTITUTE OF ANDEAN RESEARCH: 1941-42 AND 1946” BY GORDON R. WILLEY RICHARD E. DAGGETT University of Massachusetts, Amherst, Retired The following original article by Gordon R. Willey, written in 2002, near the end of his life, and at the request of the editors of Andean Past, represents his reminiscences about his introduction to Peruvian archaeology in general and the Institute of Andean Research (IAR), in particular. It is part of our series on the history of institutions that have been important in Andean archaeology during the twentieth century. It follows my article on the history of the Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory (NCAAE) published in Andean Past 6 (2000/01) and that of David L. Browman on the Midwest Conference on Andean and Amazonian Archaeology and Ethnohistory in the same volume. Various persons and institutions are mentioned in Willey’s recollections. This introduction provides necessary background to place these individuals and institutions in context. The IAR was the brainchild of Julio C. Tello (Strong 1943:2), so I begin with salient points about Tello, his background, and his turbulent, yet productive, career. TELLO, CHAVÍN, AND PARACAS Tello was born in the Central Highlands of Peru in 1880. In 1909 he successfully completed his studies in the School of Medicine at the University of San Marcos in Lima. He then earned his master’s degree in anthropology at Harvard University in 1911. Following a year of further study in Europe, Tello returned to Lima ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 305-312. in 1913 and was appointed Chief of the Archaeological Section of the National Museum of History (Lothrop 1948:50-51). The German archaeologist Max Uhle had been the original director of this section, having served in this capacity from 1906 to 1911 (Tello 1959:37). Tello's appointment in 1913 as head of the Archaeological Section at the National Museum in Lima was met with resistance by the museum’s director, Emilio Gutiérrez de Quintanilla. Gutiérrez showed little interest in preserving the museum’s archaeological and ethnological collections and, after feuding with him for nearly two years, Tello reluctantly submitted his resignation in March 1915 (ibid:40). Subsequently, Tello conducted an archaeological exploration of the Peruvian south coast (ibid:43). The collections he obtained at this time served as the basis for his doctoral thesis (Tello 1918) presented to the University of San Marcos School of Science. The following year, 1919, Tello conducted research at a number of sites in coastal and highland north-central Peru, including the highland ruins of Chavín de Huantar. This research was conducted on behalf of the University of San Marcos (Tello 1921a). Collections obtained in 1919, as well as those obtained by Tello in 1915, served as the basis for a new museum of archaeology that was begun by him at this university in 1919 (Tello 1959:42). Tello’s studies of these collections were the basis of a publication by him in which he put forth the novel idea of an early (Chavín) culture centered in the Peruvian highlands with roots ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) that extended into the tropical forest (Tello 1921b:10-12). In 1923 Tello became a professor at San Marcos. The following year he offered his first course in anthropology (Lothrop 1948:51). That same year, 1924, he was appointed director of the nation’s new Museum of Peruvian Archaeology that resulted from the government’s purchase of a private museum, the Victor Larco Herrera Museum of Archaeology, which Tello had been hired to create in 1919. He had served as its director from 1919 to 1921 (Tello and Mejía X. 1967:122-123; Daggett 2007:82-83). At the start of 1925, Tello headed two museums of archaeology and had begun teaching anthropology. Serving these related roles, he initiated an archaeological program on the coast of Peru south of Lima (Anonymous 1925). The onset of this program coincided with the arrival of Alfred L. Kroeber1 who had come to Peru for the first time on behalf of the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago (Rowe 1962:402). He had recently begun publishing on Uhle’s collections that were stored at the University of California at Berkeley, beginning with collections that Uhle had made before 1906 on the Peruvian south coast (Kroeber and Strong 1924a, 1924b). In 1925 and 1926 Kroeber conducted archaeological research, in part jointly with Tello (Lothrop 1948:51). One result 1 Alfred L. Kroeber (1876-1960) entered Columbia College in 1892 and received his bachelor’s and master's degrees in English in 1896 and 1897. In 1896 Franz Boas began teaching anthropology at Columbia and Kroeber became his student (Rowe 1962:395). In 1892 Boas had assumed the position of Chief Assistant, under Frederic Ward Putnam, in the Department of Anthropology at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. He followed Putnam to the American Museum of Natural History in 1895 or 1896, where he became Curator of Anthropology (Kroeber et al. 1943:12-13). This helps to explain how Kroeber was able to conduct research on behalf of the American Museum prior to 1901 when he was awarded the first doctorate given in anthropology by Columbia University. That same year Kroeber began working at the University of California at Berkeley (Rowe 1962:395-397). - 306 was a publication by Kroeber (1927) in which he discussed in detail the different ideas of Uhle and Tello regarding the prehistory of Peru. Kroeber was not the only American archaeologist with whom Tello interacted in the field during 1925. After Kroeber returned to the United States (Rowe 1962:404), Tello received a visit from Samuel K. Lothrop.2 Together they discovered ruins on the Paracas Peninsula that proved to be the source of spectacular textiles that had been flooding the national and international art markets for more than a decade. In 1927, new excavations ordered by Tello at the ruins of Paracas led to the discovery of hundreds of mummy bundles (Tello 1959:48). Within that same year Tello began the process of opening these bundles and conserving the textiles and other objects they contained. In 1929, in a speech made at the Museum of Peruvian Archaeology that was attended by the nation’s president Augusto B. Leguía, Tello expressed the need for increased government funding to advance this process. Unfortunately, the onset of the Great Depression and the resultant political upheaval in Lima provided the opportunity for one disgruntled editor to attack Tello’s character. This he did through obviously false and libelous charges that nevertheless resulted in Tello’s removal as director of the Museum of Peruvian Archaeology in 1930. A new National Museum was then created in 1931 from the nation’s various museums in Lima. Tello was able to secure a place for himself within this new institution and, in so doing, retained control of the bulk of the Paracas collection (Daggett 1994:56-58, 2007:84-85). 2 Samuel K. Lothrop (1892-1965) graduated from Harvard in 1915 with his bachelor's degree in Anthropology (Editor 1920:496). That same year he first participated in excavations, in the American Southwest in concert with Alfred V. Kidder. He subsequently conducted field research in Middle and South America (Easby 1966:256). 307 - Daggett: Introduction to Willey on the IAR During the early 1930s Tello’s work with the unopened Paracas mummy bundles, and preservation of the Paracas collection as a whole, was inhibited by limited government funding (Daggett 1994:58). The same was true for Tello’s Chavín research that received an unexpected boost from discoveries he made in 1933 on the north-central coast (Daggett 1987:112-114). These discoveries inspired Tello to revisit Chavín de Huantar and to explore the Peruvian highlands, leading to discoveries of other Chavín sites (Daggett 2007:88-89). Given these circumstances, it should come as no surprise that Tello accepted an invitation tendered in 1935 to visit the United States. While traveling in that country in 1936 he took the opportunity to advance support for his research (Daggett 1994:59-60). at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) to discuss Tello’s idea to form an institute for Andean research. A plan of organization was mapped out which included, among other things, the idea that membership be limited in scope, that members preferably be American citizens, and that a Peruvian Relations Council be created to facilitate work. In addition, it was decided to create an Executive Committee composed of members who would raise and handle funds, appoint research workers, and otherwise oversee research conducted on behalf of the institute. It was specifically proposed that the Executive Committee consist of Kroeber (Chair), Lothrop, Spier, Bennett, Fay-Cooper Cole,7 Edgar L. Hewett,8 Alfred V.Kidder,9 Philip A. Means,10 and Alfred M. FOUNDING AND INCORPORATION OF THE IAR Kroeber on the Uhle Peruvian collections (Rowe 1978:653-654). On October 13, 1936, Tello, Lothrop, Wendell Clark Bennett,3 Clarence Leonard Hay,4 Leslie Spier,5 and George C. Vaillant6 met 3 Wendell Clark Bennett (1905-1953) was awarded his doctorate in anthropology in 1933 at the University of Chicago. The following year he began working at the AMNH where he immediately became focused on a program of field research principally in Bolivia and Peru (Rouse 1954:265-266). See Barnes, this volume, note 51. 4 Clarence Leonard Hay (1884-1969) was a child of John Milton Hay, one of Abraham Lincoln’s secretaries and biographers and Secretary of State in the McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt administrations. Clarence Hay received his bachelor’s degree from Harvard College in 1908 and a master’s degree, in affiliation with the Peabody Museum of Harvard in 1911. He took time off from his studies for annual archaeological expeditions to southern Mexico. He began work at the American Museum of Natural History as an unpaid volunteer, and advanced to the position of trustee and secretary to the board in 1933. See Anonymous 1969 for an obituary of Clarence Hay. 5 The ethnologist Leslie Spier (1883-1961) began teaching at Yale in 1933. Two years earlier he had married Anna Gayton (born 1899 in Santa Cruz, California) who, as a graduate student at Berkeley, had worked with 6 George C. Vaillant (1901-1945) studied anthropology at Harvard University where he earned his doctorate in 1927, that same year beginning his work at the AMNH. Although he had worked with Alfred Kidder in the southwestern United States, he was committed to Mexican studies and in 1930 he began working at the AMNH as its Assistant Curator of Mexican Archaeology (Noguera 1946:1-2). 7 Fay-Cooper Cole (1881-1961) studied, among other places, at the University of Chicago and Columbia University. He began work as an anthropologist at the AMNH in 1906. In 1924 he moved to the University of Chicago where, by 1929, he headed a newly formed Department of Anthropology (Jennings 1962:574). See Barnes, this volume, note 12. 8 Edgar L. Hewett (1865-1946) invited Tello to come to the United States, and this resulted in Tello being made a member of the School of American Research at a meeting held in Santa Fe, New Mexico late in August 1936 (Daggett 1994:59). Hewett was the founder and director of this School and he had established the Department of Anthropology at the University of New Mexico (Fisher 1947:78). 9 Alfred V. Kidder (1885-1963) worked in the American Southwest. He received his doctorate in anthropology from Harvard in 1914. In 1927 he began working for the ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Tozzer,11 (Harvard Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology Archives, IAR Folder 1, 996-20). A second meeting was held in Washington, D.C. on December 28, 1936. In attendance were Bennett, Cole, Kidder, Kroeber, Lothrop, Means, Spier, Tozzer, and Vaillant.12 Kroeber was elected Chairman of the Executive Committee and Tello was appointed Peruvian Councilor. A committee of three, consisting of Bennett, Lothrop, and Vaillant was tasked with investigating the matter of incorporation (ibid.). Lothrop, Tozzer, and Vaillant filed a Certificate of Incorporation for the IAR as a non-profit Carnegie Institution of Washington (Wauchope 1965:149-157). The Carnegie Institution had been created in 1902 for the purpose of promoting science (Gilman 1902:202-203). 10 Philip Ainsworth Means (1892-1944) received his master's degree from Harvard in 1916. Both an historian and an archaeologist, his research focused on Hispanic America and he frequently traveled to Peru during the years prior to 1920. From 1920 to 1921 he worked at the National Museum of History in Lima (Bennett 1946:234235). He later published one of the first descriptive reports on the Chavín discoveries made by Tello (ibid: 237) on Peru’s north-central coast in 1933. 11 The Mesoamerican scholar Alfred Marston Tozzer (1877-1954) completed his doctorate at Harvard in 1904 and the following year began teaching there (Phillips 1955:72-74). 12 These nine individuals, along with Tello who apparently had returned to Peru, comprise the ten founding fathers of the IAR. They represented the following eight American institutions: Harvard University (Hay, Kidder, Lothrop, Means, Tello, Tozzer, and Vaillant), Columbia University (Cole, Kroeber, and Spier), Yale University (Spier), the University of Chicago (Bennett and Cole), the University of California at Berkeley (Kroeber), the AMNH, (Bennett, Hay, Kroeber, Spier, and Vaillant), the [Field] Museum of Natural History (Cole and Kroeber), and the Carnegie Institution in Washington, D.C. (Kidder). These institutions, though spanning the country from coast to coast, were nonetheless concentrated in the northeast region. - 308 entity on February 2, 1937. This they did under the Membership Corporation Law of the State of New York, and on March 5, this certificate was filed with the Office of the Secretary of the State in Albany (Mason 1967:3). ACTIVITIES OF THE IAR, 1937-1940 During the first years of its existence, research by the IAR was supported with private contributions. This research was primarily archaeological in nature, and was conducted principally in Peru. In 1937 honorary fellowships were given to a number of students to conduct research in that country. Among the students were two from Yale, one from Harvard, and one from the University of Chicago. Donald Collier13 of the University of Chicago assisted Tello in new (Chavín) research on the north-central coast, as did the two Yale students, while Isabel Guernsey, representing Harvard, assisted with the (Paracas) textile study ongoing in Lima. An honorary fellowship was also given in 1937 to Alfred Kidder II14 to allow him to conduct a broad field survey in Peru that in 1940 focused on the southern highlands. At that time he conducted excavations as a member of the IAR, having achieved this status that same year. He was only the second new member of the Institute, the first being William Duncan Strong15 13 Donald Collier (1911-1995) was awarded his B.A. at the University of California in 1933 (Thompson 1996:44). He became a member of the IAR in 1944 (Mason 1967: 14). See also Barnes, this volume, note 18. 14 Alfred Kidder II (1911-1984) was the son of Alfred V. Kidder. In 1937 he was awarded his doctorate at Harvard, that same year becoming an instructor in the Department of Anthropology (Mohr Chávez 2005:252-253). 15 William Duncan Strong (1899-1962) studied with Kroeber at Berkeley, receiving his doctorate in anthropology there in 1926. He began his professional career at the [Field] Museum of Natural History in Chicago, ultimately moving to Columbia University in 1937 (Solecki and Wagley 1963:1103). As a graduate student Strong had 309 who was added to the membership roll in 1939 (Mason 1967:14). In 1938 Bennett was the recipient of one of two grants supporting research in northern Peru while another grant in 1939 supported research in Peru’s southern highlands. In 1940 two Harvard students were given support for work in the southern highlands, while Strong obtained funds for an extensive survey of Peru as a whole (Strong 1943:3). THE 1941-1942 IAR PROGRAM OF RESEARCH During 1941-1942 the IAR undertook a major multi-project program of research sponsored by the Art Committee of the Office of the Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs in the U.S. Department of State (Strong 1943:2). Vaillant had been the one to broker the arrangement, including discussions with Nelson Rockefeller,16 the Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs (Willey 1988:117). Funding was provided for eleven field projects, four in Peru, two in Mexico, and one each in El Salvador, Cuba/ Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, and Chile. In every case but Cuba/Venezuela, project directors were members of the IAR. Kroeber, Strong, and Kidder II directed three of the assisted Kroeber on his studies of the Uhle collections made on the Peruvian south coast prior to 1906 (Kroeber and Strong 1924a, 1924b). 16 In 1937 Rockefeller made a business trip to South America. While in Lima he visited Tello and saw for himself the effect years of limited funding had on the Paracas mummy bundles under his care. Tello pleaded his case and Rockefeller agreed to help with a donation. Rockefeller then suggested that a gift of some of the bundles to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, of which he was a Trustee, might lead to further funding. Tello was in agreement as were Peruvian officials. This resulted in the shipment of four Paracas mummy bundles to the Metropolitan Museum. Later three of these bundles were transferred to the AMNH and the remaining bundle was transferred to the Harvard Peabody Museum. Subsequently, in 1940, Rockefeller assumed the position of Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs (Daggett 1994: 60-61). Daggett: Introduction to Willey on the IAR Peruvian projects while Lothrop and Tello codirected the fourth. Each of these four projects also included a supervisor. Gordon Willey served in this capacity under Strong,17 and Marshall Thornton Newman18 did the same under Lothrop and Tello (Strong 1943: 6-7). THE VIRU VALLEY PROJECT: 1946 In 1942 Strong moved to Washington, D.C.19 where he assumed the duties of the Director of the Ethnographic Board at the Smithsonian Institution (Willey 1988:91), “a special agency that made anthropological knowledge and personnel available to the national needs” (Solecki and Wagley 1963: 1103). Willey initially took over Strong’s teaching duties at 17 John Maxwell Corbett (born 1913) was also part of the research team for this project centered on Peru’s Central Coast (Strong 1943:6). Corbett was a student of Hewett's at the University of Southern California (Willey 1988:86). Corbett worked for the Museum of New Mexico at Quarai and Pecos in 1939 (Corbett 1951:165). That same year his University of Southern California master’s thesis, “Ball Courts and Ballgame of the Ancient American Indians” was published. A copy may be found in the Harvard University Library. Before beginning work on their IAR project, Strong, Willey, and Corbett conducted excavations at the ruins of Pachacamac just south of Lima (ibid:88-90). Junius Bird (1907-1982) of the AMNH (Hyslop 1989:84) served as the supervisor for a project outside Peru that was directed by Strong (Strong 1943:6). Bird became a member of the IAR in 1944, as did Gordon Willey (Mason 1967: 14). 18 The physical anthropologist Marshall Thornton Newman (1911-1994) also collaborated with Willey and Corbett on excavations undertaken for the Central Peruvian Coast project (Willey 1988:90). Newman had just earned his doctorate at Harvard with a dissertation entitled “An Analysis of Indian Skeletal Material from Northern Alabama and Its Bearing Upon the Peopling of the Southeastern United States” (Editor 1942). 19 Prior to assuming the position at Columbia Strong had worked at the Bureau of American Ethnology at the Smithsonian Institution, where he served as Senior Ethnologist beginning in 1931 (Solecki and Wagley 1963: 1103). ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Columbia. However, in 1943 Willey, too, went to Washington to begin work at the Smithsonian at the request of Julian H. Steward.20 Bennett took an active role on the Ethnographic Board and this gave him, Strong, and Willey an opportunity to discuss plans for future work in Peru. Strong was then serving as the president of the Institute (Willey 1988:91-92). At some point Steward entered the discussions, as did F. W. McBryde21 of the Institute of Social Anthropology at the Smithsonian (Willey 1946:224). Because Bennett had worked in the Virú Valley, it was decided to focus research there. This research was to be coordinated by the IAR, with funding coming from the universities of Columbia, Cornell, and Yale, as well as the American Museum of Natural History, the Field Museum of Natural History, and the Smithsonian (Willey 1988:63). A committee of four, Bennett, Steward, Strong, and Willey, all IAR members, was created to formulate plans for the research. 20 Julian H. Steward (1902-1972), had done graduate studies at Berkeley and first got to know Kroeber there in 1925 (Steward 1973:vi). Steward earned his B.A. at Cornell University (Willey 1988:22). Allan R. Holmberg, a social anthropologist employed jointly by Cornell and the Smithsonian also became part of the Viru Valley Project (ibid: 92). A native of Renville, Minnesota, he was awarded his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in 1947. The following year he joined the faculty of Cornell (Editor 1965:2). Steward became a member of the IAR in 1944 and Holmberg became a member in 1946 (Mason 1967: 14). See also Barnes, this volume, note 37. 21 Felix Webster McBryde (born 1908) was awarded his doctorate in anthropology by the University of California in 1940. His research had been focused on present-day Maya in Guatemala. Beginning in 1932 his field research was supported, in part, by the Carnegie Institution of Washington (McBryde 1947:xiii-xiv). - 310 FINAL COMMENTS The Harvard graduate student John H. Rowe (1918-2004) participated as supervisor in the 1941-42 IAR Project 7 directed by Alfred Kidder II that focused on the southern highlands of Peru (Strong 1943:7). Rowe was made a member of the IAR in 1944 (Mason 1967:14) and earned his doctorate at Harvard in 1947 (Burger 2007: 35). In 1950 he began teaching a seminar on Peruvian archaeology at the University of California at Berkeley, the first such course since Kroeber had offered one there in 1942 (Editor 1951: 366). Rowe subsequently began bringing his students to Peru to conduct research (Rowe 1956). In 1960 the Institute of Andean Studies (IAS) was founded and incorporated with Rowe as its president (Lyon 1983: 1). Berkeley then became established as the permanent host institution for its meetings held annually in January (Browman 2000/01:347). Clearly the influences of Uhle and Kroeber were at the heart of this new research institute. Less clear, however, was how much the increased research focus of the IAR on Mesoamerica (e.g., Mason 1967:9), and/or difficulties encountered by West Coast members in attending annual IAR meetings in New York City may have influenced the creation of the IAS. It has been reported that problems encountered by those living and working in the Midwest in attending this annual IAS meeting led to the creation of the Midwest Conference on Andean and Amazonian Archaeology and Ethnohistory (MCAAAE) in 1973 (Browman 2000/01:347). It has likewise been reported that difficulties encountered by those living and working in the Northeast in attending the annual Midwest Conference led to the creation of the Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory in 1982 (Daggett 2000/01:310311). Hence, both the MCAAAE and the NCAAE may be viewed as offspring of the IAS and the IAS was, at least indirectly, given its 311 emphasis on the Andes, an offspring of the IAR. In light of this it should be noted that, like the newly formed IAR in 1937, the three current Andean research groups cover three distinct regions, the Northeast, the Midwest, and the West. Finally, given these connections, it seems both appropriate and historic that the second annual meeting of the Northeast Conference was held at the AMNH (ibid:314), the official home of the IAR (Mason 1967:2). REFERENCES CITED: Archival Sources Harvard Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology Archives IAR Folder 1, 996-20. Publications Anonymous 1925 Los estudios históricos en la Universidad Mayor de San Marcos: Trabajos arqueológicos en la provincia de Cañete. Importante descubrimientos en la Waka Malena. El Comercio, October 11, page 12 (Lima, Peru). 1969 Clarence Hay, 84, An Archeologist: Former Trustee of the Natural History Museum Is Dead. The New York Times, June 6, p. 39. Bennett, Wendell C. 1946 Philip Ainsworth Means,1892-1944. American Anthropologist 48:234-237. Browman, David L. 2000/01 The Origins and the First 25 Years (1973-1997) of the Midwestern Conference on Andean and Amazonian Archaeology and Ethnohistory. Andean Past 6:347-367. Burger, Richard L. 2007 John Howland Rowe. Andean Past 8:33-44. Corbett, John M. 1951 Peruvian Prehistory. El Palacio 59, June, pp. 165179. Daggett, Richard E. 1987 Reconstructing the Evidence for Cerro Blanco and Punkuri. Andean Past 1:111-163. 1994 The Paracas Mummy Bundles of the Great Necropolis of Wari Kayan: A History. Andean Past 4: 53-75. 2000/01 The Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory: The First Eighteen Years. Andean Past 6:309-345. 2007 Tello’s “Lost Years”: 1931-1935. Andean Past 8:81-108. Daggett: Introduction to Willey on the IAR Easby, Dudley T., Jr. 1966 Samuel Kirkland Lothrop, 1892-1965. American Antiquity 31(2):256-261. Editor 1920 Harvard University. Quinquennial Catalogue of the Officers and Graduates, 1636-1920. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The University Press. 1942 Notes and News. American Anthropologist n.s. 44(1):166-167. 1951 Notes and News: South America. American Antiquity 16(4):366-368. 1965 About Our Authors. The American Behavioral Scientist 8(7):2, 8. Fisher, Reginald 1947 Edgar Lee Hewett. American Antiquity 13(1):7879. Gilman, Daniel C. 1902 The Carnegie Institution. Science 15(371):201203. Hyslop, John 1989 Portrait of an Archaeologist: Junius B. Bird’s Lifetime of Discovery is Remembered in the New Hall of South American Peoples. Natural History 2:84, 86-89. Jennings, Jesse D. 1962 Fay-Cooper Cole, 1881-1961. American Antiquity 27(4):573-575. Kroeber, Alfred L. 1927 Coast and Highland in Prehistoric Peru. American Anthropologist 29:625-653. Kroeber, Alfred L. and William Duncan Strong 1924a The Uhle Collections from Chincha. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21:1-54. 1924b The Uhle Pottery Collections from Ica. University of California Publications in Archaeology and Ethnology 21:95-133. Kroeber, Alfred L., Ruth Benedict, Murray B. Emeneau, Melvin J. Herskovitz, Gladys A. Reichard, and J. Alden Mason 1943 Franz Boas, 1858-1942. American Anthropological Association Memoir 61. New York: Kraus Reprints [1969]. Lothrop, Samuel K. 1948 Julio C. Tello, 1880-1947. American Antiquity 14:49-56. Lyon, Patricia J. Editor’s Preface and Dedication of this Special 1983 Issue. Ñawpa Pacha 20(1982):1-2. Mason, J. Alden 1967 A Brief History of the Institute of Andean Research, Inc., 1937-1967. New York, New York: Institute of Andean Research. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) McBryde, Felix Webster 1947 Cultural and Historical Geography of Southwest Guatemala. Smithsonian Institution Institute for Social Anthropology Publication 4. Washington, D.C. Mohr Chávez, Karen L. 2005 Alfred Kidder II in the Development of American Archaeology: A Biographical and Contextual View. Andean Past 7:251-309. Noguera, Eduardo 1946 George C. Vaillant. Ethnos 2(1-2):1-15 (Stockholm, Sweden). Phillips, Philip 1955 Alfred Marsten [sic]Tozzer, 1877-1954. American Antiquity 21:72-80. Rouse, Irving 1954 Wendell C. Bennett, 1905-1953. American Antiquity 19:265-270. Rowe, John Howland 1956 Archaeological Explorations in Southern Peru, 1954-1955: Preliminary Report of the Fourth University of California Archaeological Expedition to Peru. American Antiquity 22(2):135-151. 1962 Alfred Louis Kroeber, 1876-1960. American Antiquity 27:395-415. 1978 Anna Hadwick Gayton, 1899-1977. American Anthropologist 80:653-656. Solecki, Ralph and Charles Wagley 1963 William Duncan Strong, 1899-1962. American Anthropologist 65:1102-1111. Steward, Julian H. 1973 Alfred Kroeber. New York and London: Columbia University Press. Strong, William Duncan 1943 Cross Sections of New World Prehistory. A Brief Report on the Work of the Institute of Andean Research, 1941-1942. Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 104(2):1-46. - 312 Tello, Julio C. 1918 El uso de las cabezas humanas artificialmente momificadas y su representación en el antiguo arte peruano. Lima: Casa Editora de Ernesto R. Villaran. 1921a Estudios antropológicos en el departamento de Ancash. Archivos de la Asociación Peruana para el Progreso de la Ciencia 1:131-137 (Lima, Perú). 1921b Introducción a la historia antigua del Perú. Lima: San Marti y Cia. 1959 Paracas: Primera Parte. Publicación del Proyecto 8b del Programa 1941-42 de The Institute of Andean Research of New York. Lima: Empresa Gráfica T. Scheuch S.A. Tello, Julio C. and Toribio Mejía Xesspe 1967 Historia de los museos nacionales del Perú: 1822-1946. Arqueológicas 10 (entire issue; Lima, Perú). Thompson, Donald E. 1996 Donald Collier: 1911-1995. American Antiquity 61(1):44-51. Wauchope, Robert 1965 Alfred Vincent Kidder, 1885-1963. American Antiquity 31:149-171. Willey, Gordon R. 1946 The Viru Valley Program in Northern Peru. Acta Americana 4(4):224-238. 1988 Portraits in American Archaeology: Remembrances of Some Distinguished Americanists. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. EXPERIENCES WITH THE INSTITUTE OF ANDEAN RESEARCH: 1941-42 AND 1946 GORDON R. WILLEY (died 28 April 2002) Gordon Randolph Willey, William Duncan Strong, John Maxwell Corbett, and Marshall Thornton (Bud) Newman at Pachacamac, © 2006 Harvard University, Peabody Museum, 2003.13.108 In the spring semester of academic year 1940-41, I was completing my graduate classes at Columbia University in my work for a doctorate in anthropology, with a specialization in American archaeology. My serious field studies up to that time had been in the Southeastern United States, particularly in Georgia, Louisiana, and Florida. I had a few publication credits on my record for research in these areas and had completed, during the summer of 1940, a CoANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 313-316. lumbia University-National Park Service financed expedition to the Florida Gulf Coast. It was my intention to go ahead with these Florida studies as the basis of my doctoral dissertation. However, my principal professor at Columbia, William Duncan Strong, under whose guidance I was taking a seminar on South American archaeology, informed me that the Institute of Andean Research, of which he was a member, was in the process of negotiating with the Unit- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) ed States Department of State for an extensive program of archaeological investigations in Latin America. Such a program would be financed by our State Department, as a part of a process of establishing firmer cultural ties with our Latin American neighbors. Research activities would be carried out at various locations, from northern Mexico down to southern Chile. These activities would be under the direction of various members of the Institute of Andean Research and their associated universities or museums. To my delight, Professor Strong informed me that if this idea of the State Department’s funding of the Institute of Andean Research developed according to plan he would head up one of the field programs directed to Peru and that he would take me along as his assistant. While I had devotion to my Florida and southeastern United States research, I was more excited about the opportunities to see and participate in Andean archaeological fieldwork. Among other advantages that the Institute of Andean Research possibility held was funding for publication of field results. At Columbia University, at that time, this was a very important consideration, for there was a graduate ruling – now, I understand no longer in force – that the doctoral degree would not be granted until the candidate had deposited a certain number of published copies of his doctoral thesis in the university library. Needless to say, payment was a rugged expense for most Ph.D. candidates and certainly would have been so for me. Thus, Peruvian fieldwork, if at least part of it could be used as a doctoral dissertation for me, was a very bright prospect. As things fell out, the State Department came through with the grant for the program as designed by the Institute of Andean Research. I should mention here that the key man on the archaeological side of things in all of this was the late George C. Vaillant who came up with - 314 this idea of “Archaeology in Latin America” as a form of international goodwill and who, through his personal friendship with Nelson Rockefeller, then Assistant Secretary of State to Cordell Hull, was able to sell the idea in high government circles. Strong left for Peru in late May of 1941 to arrange matters with Peruvian officialdom. I took off in early June. One of the very nice features of the program, which I understood had been incorporated into it at Vaillant’s insistence, was that all married participants be allowed to bring their wives with them on the individual grants’ expense moneys. Thus, in my case, my wife Katharine would be allowed to accompany me. Obviously, this Institute of Andean Research-U.S. State Department venture was much to my liking as it was to others of the program. One of these was Junius Bird who was to be accompanied to Chile by his wife, Peggy, and their two young sons. So, the Willeys and the Birds took off on a Pacific Line steamship from New York City at the end of the first week in June. The cruise down was delightful. Going through the Panama Canal and then along the Pacific coast of South America, it took about two weeks to reach Callao, the port for Lima. The Birds got off with us there, spending two weeks in Peru before proceeding on by the next ship to Chile. During this time, while my wife stayed in a Lima hotel and Peggy Bird and her children put up in a local pension, Strong, Junius, and I traveled along the Peruvian coast, both to the north and south of Lima, looking at archaeological sites and beginning to acclimatize ourselves to this research environment. On some, but not all, of these trips we were accompanied by either Julio C. Tello, Peru’s leading archaeologist, or some of his assistants. These brief surveys were eventually published as “Archaeological Notes on the Central Coast” by Strong and Willey (Strong et al. 1943:1-25). 315 Later on, I was to carry out excavations in some of these sites we visited during these early trips, but more of this later. After the Birds’ departure for Chile, Strong and I began serious archaeology with excavations carried out at Tello’s invitation at the great ruin of Pachacamac, situated some 30 kilometers south of Lima. Strong had been telling Tello of our desire to carry out stratigraphic testing in Peru and the latter had obliged with this offer. We employed some of Tello’s workmen, and during the latter part of July and through August of that year, we made a deep cut on the lower slopes of the famed Temple of the Sun, an Inca Period structure which crowns the highest point of the topography of Pachacamac. In this work we were also assisted by John Maxwell Corbett, a former University of Southern California student of archaeology who, with his wife Jacqueline, was also visiting in Peru at that time. The Temple of the Sun excavation proceeded through superficial Inca Period refuse into underlying debris which we eventually identified as that of the interlocking pottery style, to be identified with the Early Intermediate Period of the Peruvian coastal cultures. Strong and Corbett were to publish the results of this Pachacamac work as “A Ceramic Sequence for Pachacamac” (Strong et al. 1943: 27-121). With Strong’s return to the United States in September of 1941, Corbett and I set about with excavations at a number of the Peruvian central coastal sites which had been briefly visited at the beginning of our trip. We dug for about a month in the Chancay Valley, just to the north of Ancón. Here we concentrated on the site of Cerro de Trinidad where Max Uhle had excavated early in the twentieth century. We also followed this up with more Chancay Valley digging at a site called Baños de Boza. As a result of this work, I was able to stratigraphically demonstrate a central coastal Early Intermediate Willey: Institute of Andean Research in Peru Period sequence of a White-on-Red ceramic style underlying the interlocking style, and the publication on this, “Excavations in the Chancay Valley” (Strong et al. 1943:123-195) became my doctoral dissertation. Other excavations during the final months of 1941 and into early 1942 were carried out at Ancón in both the Necrópolis, or burial-ground area at that large site, as well as in the large shell deposits on the hills to the south of the Necrópolis. I published on the Ancón Necrópolis work (“A Supplement to the Pottery Sequence at Ancon” in Strong et al. 1943:197-215) and later Corbett and I published on the Ancón and related Puerto de Supe shell mound digging (Willey and Corbett 1954). My second field experience with the Institute of Andean Research came in 1946. By this time, presumably in recognition of my research achievements in Peru in the 1941-42 period, I had been elected a member of the Institute and it was as such that I participated in the planning of the Viru Valley Peruvian expedition which was carried out by the Institute. The principal originators of the Viru Valley Program were Wendell C. Bennett of Yale, Julian Steward, then one of my bosses at the Smithsonian Institution, and myself, a member of the Smithsonian’s Bureau of American Ethnology. Our objective was to do intensive archaeologicalgeographical-ethnological research on an institutional cooperative basis, in a single Peruvian north coastal valley. It was not too large for our efforts, most of which were to be confined to a single field season, and it was a valley of which we knew something – although by no means enough – of its prehistoric past. Our plan was for members of the Institute of Andean Research representing several institutions (universities or museums in the United States) to bring some funding resources from their respective institutions and to share in some general funding to be solicited by the Institute of Andean Research. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) We were fortunate in gaining the enthusiastic support of several of our colleagues for the Viru venture. Julian Steward enlisted the aid of F.W. McBryde, a cultural geographer on his Smithsonian staff, and later he brought in the ethnologist Alan Holmberg, also a Smithsonian employee. The archaeologist William Duncan Strong of Columbia University joined up bringing with him two graduate student assistants, James A. Ford and Clifford Evans. From the American Museum of Natural History Junius Bird threw in his lot with us and so did Donald Collier of Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History. Together the Viru group were fortunate in receiving a generous financial grant from the Wenner-Gren Foundation in New York City. As it was arranged, each participant was to find much of his own field research from funds supplied by his own university or musuem; however, certain facilities and items were purchased out of the Wenner-Gren general funds. These last included three second-hand U.S. Army Jeeps, which were shared by the members of the project, and U.S. Army air photographs of the valley of various scales, also of general use and value. Other incidental minor costs for items of general benefit to all participants were also met by the Wenner-Gren funds. Some fieldwork, including that of the Columbia University party and myself, began in late March of 1946. Others joined us in the months thereafter. My own field activities lasted through to September of that year while those of some of our colleagues continued longer. Publications resulting from the Viru Program appeared in the years following. These were brought out at the American Museum of Natural History, Columbia University, the Field Museum, and the Smithsonian. My own publication, Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the Viru Valley, Peru, came out in 1953. - 316 Since that time I have attended Institute of Andean Research annual meetings at the American Museum in New York on various occasions. I do not have a good remembrance of just what business was discussed. I know, however, that there has been no activity of the scale of the Viru Program in recent years. REFERENCES CITED: Strong, William Duncan, Gordon R. Willey and John M. Corbett 1943 Archaeological Studies in Peru, 1941-1942. Columbia Studies in Archaeology and Ethnology 1. New York: Columbia University Press. Willey, Gordon R. 1953 Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the Viru Valley, Peru, Bulletin 155, Bureau of American Ethnology, Washington, D.C. Willey, Gordon R. and John M. Corbett 1954 Early Ancón and Early Supe Culture: Chavín Horizon Sites of the Central Peruvian Coast. Special sections by Lila M. O’Neale, Margaret Ashley Towle, W. G. Haag, Marshall T. Newman and others. Columbia Studies in Archeology and Ethnology 3. New York: Columbia University Press. CURRENT RESEARCH IN ANDEAN ARCHAEOLOGY Editors’ Note: Because of the large number of lengthy articles and obituaries published in Andean Past 7 and 8, we were unable to include a section on current research. Here we report on work done since mid-summer, 2000. New reports should be sent to Monica Barnes (monica@andeanpast.org). Current Research (2000-2008) ARGENTINA Archaeological Investigations at Antumpa (Jujuy): Contributions to the Characterization of the Early Ceramic Period in the Humahuaca Region In this report Juan B. Leoni (jbleoni@ hotmail.com) presents ongoing archaeological research at the Antumpa site (Departamento de Humahuaca, Provincia de Jujuy). Investigations have yielded important new information about the Early Ceramic Period (c. 1000 B.C. to A.D. 800), also known as the Formative, a crucial, but poorly known, period in the developmental trajectory of the Humahuaca Quebrada region. A proliferation of sedentary village societies characterizes Northwestern Argentina during the Early Ceramic Period (Albeck 2000; González 1977; González and Pérez 1972). These small-scale societies occupied different subareas of Northwestern Argentina, from punas, to highland valleys, to the yungas or low-lying warm valleys of the eastern Andean slopes. Their subsistence practices were based largely on agriculture and llama herding occasionally complemented by hunting and gathering. Ceramic, textile, and metallurgical production developed during these times, reaching, in some cases, very high manufacturing and aesthetic standards. It is generally believed that these communities were, for the most part, internally homogeneous, showing little social differentiation and political centralization. These societies ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009): 317-351. were interconnected through exchange of both everyday and sumptuary goods, as much as by ideas and people circulating over relatively extensive geographical areas. Nevertheless, the archaeological record for this period is extremely fragmentary in the Humahuaca Quebrada region, one of the main subareas of the Argentine Andean Northwest. Only a handful of sites are known at present besides Antumpa, and include Estancia Grande (Palma y Olivera, 1992-93; Salas 1948), El Alfarcito (Madrazo 1969), Vizcarra (Nielsen 2001:187-189), Pueblo Viejo de la Cueva (Basilico 1992), Til 20 (Mendonça et al. 1991) and Til 22 (Rivolta and Albeck 1992), among others. They generally are hamlets or villages, with small numbers of houses within agricultural plots. Most of them have been intensively disturbed by both alluvial erosion processes and later human reoccupations. Contemporaneous occupations, which served specific purposes such as herding, hunting, raw material procurement, rock painting, and funerary practices, among other activities, have been found in caves and rock shelters as well (e.g. García and Carrion 1992, Hernández Llosas 1998). Antumpa is in the northern sector of the Humahuaca Quebrada, in the angle formed by the confluence of the Chaupi Rodeo and Grande Rivers, about 2.5 km southwest of the modern town of Iturbe/Hipólito Yrigoyen (Figure 1). The site’s geographical emplacement is key, in an area of environmental transition between the puna, the Humahuaca Quebrada, and the eastern valleys and yungas. This position ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) may have allowed Antumpa’s inhabitants a relatively easy access to these markedly different environmental zones and their specific resources. Given its location, the site may have constituted a node in ancient exchange networks (Albeck 1992:101). In fact, until recently, puna settlers from the Casabindo area, about three hours by truck from the town of Humahuaca, visited Iturbe on their way to the eastern valleys to trade salt and livestock products in exchange for agricultural products and wooden objects, a practice that may very well have its roots in prehispanic times (ibid.:100). Figure 1: Map of the Humahuaca Quebrada region showing the location of the Chaupi Rodeo Quebrada and the Antumpa site. Antumpa is one of the few sites known from the Early Ceramic Period in the general area of the Humahuaca Quebrada. It was first reported by Alberto Rex González, who characterized it as an Early Ceramic hamlet, based on its similarities to contemporaneous sites from the Humahuaca Quebrada and elsewhere in Northwestern Argentina. While González did not carry out systematic archaeological research at the site, his observations were incorporated into several works of synthesis, as part of the general discussion of the Early Ceramic Period in the Humahuaca Quebrada region (e.g. González - 318 1963:106, 1977:355-356; González and Pérez 1972:60). María I. Hernández Llosas, Susana Renard, and Mercedes Podestá (1983-85) carried out more specific research at the site in 1981, including partial mapping and test excavations, confirming González’ original characterization. While they identified the remains of later occupations as well, they concluded that those corresponding to the Early Ceramic Period were the most extensive and well preserved (Hernández Llosas et al. 1983-85:526-527). Archaeological remains typically consist of large stone-walled squares or rectangles subdivided into smaller units. Circular structures, presumably houses, between 5 and 10 m in diameter, are spread over the site, generally within larger square or rectangular enclosures. Excavations in one of these circular structures produced evidence for Early Ceramic Period occupations and a radiocarbon date of 1360±70 B.P. (LP-105; animal bone; *13C =-20±2‰; ibid: 530). Investigations at Antumpa were reinitiated in 2005, and research activities have included site survey, mapping, and excavations, complemented with a survey of the lower section of the adjacent Chaupi Rodeo Quebrada. The archaeological remains extend between 3300 and 3600 masl, covering an estimated 161 ha area of a wide, low-sloped foothill (Figure 2). The densest concentration of architecture is, however, on the river terrace on the left margin of the Chaupi Rodeo Quebrada, and seems to have constituted the core of the human occupation. The use of this part of the site continued, perhaps sporadically, over the centuries after the Early Ceramic Period, and, in fact, a few modern homesteads, most of them currently abandoned, as well as a cemetery, can be found in this area. 319 - Figure 2: Map of Antumpa showing distribution of archaeological remains The distribution of the archaeological architecture at the site is not homogeneous. At least two well-defined sectors can be identified. The boundary between these sectors is a fossil terrace that runs across the site in a general north-south direction. The lower sector, to the west of this feature, comprises extensive groups of square, rectangular, and trapezoidal stonewalled enclosures, very regularly built in what seems to be a planned construction pattern. These cover an area of about 56 ha. Some of these enclosures are internally subdivided into smaller units. The function of these enclosures seems to be related to agriculture (ibid.: 26). The stone walls defined the plots, and also protected soils from erosion and growing crops from winds and frost, as well as from domestic and/or wild animals. Given the general environmental conditions of the area, these agricultural facilities would have been used for the production of high altitude cold- resistant crops, such as quinoa, kiwicha (Amaranthus sp.), and a variety of tubers (Albeck 1992:96). No evidence for irrigation canals or reservoirs has been found as yet, implying that agricultural facilities were rather simple, and relied mostly, or exclusively, on rain water for irrigation, and, therefore, were limited in their use to the summer rainy season. Circular residential structures can be found within some of the enclosures. In general, these Current Research in Andean Archaeology are poorly preserved. One of them, designated Recinto 2, was partially excavated by Hernández Llosas and collaborators (ibid). Excavation of this structure continued in 2007. It is a large (7.70 m diameter) building with no visible doorways, in the center of a rectangular enclosure in the northwestern part of the site (Figure 3). Although an occupation level was identified, few primary contexts were located. While finds in this structure included Early Ceramic Period diagnostic artifacts such as ceramic smoking pipe fragments, lithic hoes, and small projectile points (Figure 4), the nature, length of occupation, and use of this structure remain unclear. Figure 3: Plan of Recinto 2 and adjacent enclosures. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 320 mound’s deep stratigraphy, with cultural deposits at least 1 to 1.5 m thick, with a very dense presence of archaeological materials (ceramics, lithic tools and debris, animal bone fragments, stone beads, charcoal, etc.) in secondary contexts. Radiocarbon assays from charcoal in the stratigraphic layers have yielded dates of 2860±50 B.P. (LP-1897; charcoal; *13C=24±2‰) and 2900±80 B.P. (LP-1899; charcoal; *13C=-24±2‰), suggesting that the occupation of the site goes back to the very beginning of the Early Ceramic Period. These dates situate Antumpa among the earliest known ceramic sites in the whole of Northwestern Argentina. Figure 4: Artifacts from excavations in Recinto 2: a) ceramic smoking pipe fragments; b) andesite hoes; c) stemmed projectile points (left and center, obsidian; right, siliceous rock). Site survey allowed field-workers to identify at least two small mounds, in addition to residence structures. One of the mounds had a badly eroded circular structure on its top (Recinto 3; Figure 5).The characteristics of this mound suggest a manmade origin, although it is not clear if it was intentionally erected, if it resulted from the continuous habitation of the same spot, or if a combination of both processes resulted in its formation, as is the case for other Early Ceramic sites in Northwestern Argentina (see Cigliano et al. 1976 and Tarragó 1980:3135). Test excavations inside this structure, which is about 7.70 m in diameter, showed that only the stone wall foundations had been preserved. Nevertheless, the excavations revealed the Figure 5: Area of mound on which Recinto 3 stands. The other major site sector, which covers about 105 ha, is on higher ground to the east of the old terrace (Figure 2). Archaeological architecture in this sector differs significantly both in shape and size from that described above. Enclosures are much larger and more irregularly built here. Some have curved sides. No circular 321 - Current Research in Andean Archaeology residential structures have been identified within them so far. These formal differences may be related to a different function. Perhaps some of these larger enclosures served as corrals, or for the production of different types of crops. Another distinctive feature in this sector is the existence of long linear accumulations of fieldstones, generally, but not exclusively, longitudinal to the slope, reaching hundreds of meters in length. These seem to be the correlate of the first stages of the major landscape transformations involved in the construction of extensive agricultural facilities (see Nielsen 1995:250), perhaps part of an intensification effort that was never completed. Thus, stone accumulations would be the result of the clearance of potential agricultural plots, and could have served both as the primary walls for future sets of enclosures, and as caches of readily available construction material. Research at Antumpa and Chaupi Rodeo Quebrada is being conducted under a Research Grant from Agencia de Ciencia y Técnica, Argentina (PICT Jóvenes 34424), and a Postdoctoral Reinsertion Fellowship from CONICET Argentina (Resolución Directorial Nº 1310 18/08/05). Primo Guanuco, president of the Aboriginal Community of Negra Muerta, and Sara Guzmán, Iturbe’s municipal delegate, provided support in the field. María I. Hernández extended valuable advice and help throughout all stages of this project. Humberto Mamaní, Gabriel Cortés, Ramón Quinteros, Diana Tamburini, Graciela Scarafía, Claus Freiberg, Georgina Fabron, Alejandra Raies, Anahí Hernández, Julieta Sartori, Sofía Fernández, Elisa Oitana and Micaela Corletta participated in the field-work. In summary, the ongoing investigations in Antumpa are producing valuable information on the Early Ceramic Period in the Humahuaca region that will undoubtedly contribute to a better understanding of this crucial, but so far little known, period of the Humahuaca prehispanic cultural development process. Antumpa holds important clues which will help build an understanding of the development of prehispanic agriculture as well, with its extensive facilities. There is evidence for the beginnings of an agricultural intensification effort which never developed to its maximum potential. Likewise, habitation structures and mounds are important sources of information on Early Ceramic Period social organization, with the observed differences in house locations and contents perhaps implying an incipient social differentiation. Finally, the newly available radiocarbon dates situate the site in the initial part of this period, a time for which little archaeological evidence exists at present. Albeck, María E. 1992 El ambiente como generador de hipótesis sobre dinámica sociocultural prehispánica en la Quebrada de Humahuaca. Cuadernos FHYCS-UNJU 3:95-106 (Revista de la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional de Jujuy, Argentina). 2000 La vida agraria en los Andes del sur. In Nueva historia Argentina: Los pueblos originarios y la conquista, edited by Myriam N. Tarragó, pp. 187228. Buenos Aires: Editorial Sudamericana. Basilico, Susana 1992 Pueblo Viejo de La Cueva (Depto. de Humahuaca, Jujuy). Resultados de las excavaciones en un sector del asentamiento. Cuadernos FHYCSUNJU 3:108-127 (Revista de la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional de Jujuy, Argentina). Cigliano, Eduardo M., Rodolfo A. Raffino, and Horacio A. Calandra 1976 La aldea formativa de Las Cuevas (Provincia de Salta). Relaciones de la Sociedad Argentina de Antropología, Nueva Serie 10:73-140. García, Lidia C. and Flavia I. Carrión 1992 El Formativo de la Puna de Jujuy: Inca Cueva Alero 1. Cuadernos FHYCS-UNJU 3:21-33 (Revista de la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional de Jujuy, Argentina). REFERENCES CITED ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) González, Alberto Rex 1963 Cultural Development in Northwestern Argentina. In Aboriginal Cultural Development in Latin America: An Interpretive Review, edited by Betty Jane Meggers and Clifford Evans, pp. 103-117, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 146(1). Smithsonian Institution, Washington D.C. 1977 Arte precolombino de la Argentina: Introducción a su historia cultural. Buenos Aires: Filmediciones Valero. González, Alberto Rex and José A. Pérez 1972 Argentina indígena: Vísperas de la conquista. Buenos Aires: Paidós. Hernández Llosas, María I. 1998 Pintoscayoc: Arqueología de quebradas altas en Humahuaca. Ph.D. dissertation, Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, Universidad de Buenos Aires. Hernández Llosas, María I., Susana Renard de Coquet, and María M. Podestá 1983-85 Antumpa (Departamento Humahuaca, Provincia de Jujuy). Prospección, excavación exploratoria y fechado radiocarbónico. Cuadernos del Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Pensamiento Latinoamericano 10:525-531. Madrazo, Guillermo B. 1969 Reapertura de la investigación en Alfarcito (Pcia. de Jujuy, Rep. Argentina). Monografías 4. Museo Etnográfico Municipal “Dámaso Arce”, Olavarría, Argentina. Mendonça, Osvaldo, María A. Bordach, Marta Ruiz, and Beatriz Cremonte 1991 Nuevas evidencias del Período Agroalfarero Temprano en Quebrada de Humahuaca: Los hallazgos del sitio Til 20 (Tilcara, Jujuy). Comechingonia 7:29-48 (Córdoba, Argentina). Nielsen, Axel E. 1995 Aportes al estudio de la producción agrícola Inka en Quebrada de Humahuaca (Jujuy, Argentina). Hombre y Desierto 9: Una perspectiva cultural; Actas del XIII Congreso Nacional de Arqueología Chilena, Antofagasta. Volume 1, pp. 245-260. - 322 2001 Evolución Social en la Quebrada de Humahuaca (AD 700-1536). In Historia prehispánica argentina. Volume 1, edited by Eduardo. E. Berberián and Axel E. Nielsen, pp. 171-264. Córdoba, Argentina: Editorial Brujas. Palma, Jorge R. and Daniel. E. Olivera 1992-93 Hacia la contrastación de un modelo arqueológico para el Formativo regional en Humahuaca: El caso de Estancia Grande. Cuadernos del Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Pensamiento Latinoamericano 14:237-259. Rivolta, María C. and María E. Albeck 1992 Los asentamientos tempranos en la localidad de Tilcara: Sjuj Til.22 Provincia de Jujuy. Cuadernos FHYCS-UNJU 3:86-93 (Revista de la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional de Jujuy, Argentina). Salas, Alberto 1948 Un nuevo yacimiento arqueológico en la región Humahuaca. Actas y Memorias del XXVIII Congreso Internacional de Americanistas, pp. 643-648. (Paris). Tarragó, Myriam N. 1980 Los asentamientos aldeanos tempranos en el sector septentrional del valle Calchaquí, provincia de Salta, y el desarrollo agrícola posterior. Estudios Arqueológicos 5:29-53. 323 CHILE San Pedro de Atacama The National Fund to Support Science and Technology (Fondo Nacional de Apoyo a la Ciencia y Tecnología–FONDECYT) financed project 1030931, “Recording and Chronology of the Formative Period at San Pedro de Atacama” (Registro y Cronología de Período Formativo en San Pedro de Atacama”), directed by Carolina Agüero (Universidad Católica del Norte, email: maguero@ucn.cl), Mauricio Uribe (Universidad de Chile, e-mail: mur@uchile.cl), and Carlos Carrasco (e-mail:C_acg@yahoo.com). In this project we are making a first approximation of early settlement in the oasis of San Pedro de Atacama, oriented towards the building and contextualizing of the chronological and cultural sequences of the local Formative. The data available did not provide a basis for discussion of the area’s settlement history during that time except in speculative terms (Berenguer et al. 1986; Núñez 1999, 2005). Our ultimate goal is to clarify the nature, causes, and manifestations of the settlement process within an optimized cultural-historical framework. Towards this end, we discuss the prior explanations of the origin and development of Formative societies in San Pedro by means of (1) the hypothetical projection of the model of the Tulan transect (Núñez 1995), according to which a pastoral way of life developed, and (2) the application of the caravan model (movilidad giratoria) of Núñez and Dillehay (1978) and by Llagostera (1996) who indicated that the high cultural prestige of the oasis was based on a network system which had been developed since the Formative, having as its goal the Andean ideal of complementarity. Considering that our general objective involves the examination of sociocultural indi- Current Research in Andean Archaeology cators which take into account the nature and reinforcement of the Formative way of life in an environment particular to the Puna Salada (puna with numerous salt pans and/or salt lakes), and in accord with the exploratory nature of the research, we put into practice a methodology organized into three stages, one for each of the three years of the project. Thus, during 2003 we studied and catalogued the archaeological collections deposited in the Museo Arqueológico de San Pedro de Atacama corresponding to the 18,103 items of material culture and cultural use recovered from habitation and funerary sites of San Pedro, the Vilama Quebrada, and the edges of the Salar de Atacama. This activity, along with six thermoluminescence dates, allowed us to reaffirm the temporal sequence proposed for the Formative by Tarragó (1989) and Berenguer et al. (1986), and to emphasize the cultural content of each one of the phases for San Pedro, confirming an early Formative beginning, until now only suggested hypothetically. The results caused us to conduct a systematic survey of the San Pedro Oasis and the Vilama Quebrada in 2004, registering more than 200 new sites (Agüero 2005), especially habitation sites. We observed a significant occupation in the Quebrada, and the two zones maintained a complementary relationship, indicating that the settlement patterns proposed for the Oasis (Núñez 1995; Llagostera and Costa 1999) needed to be reevaluated. The greater part of the occupations were single-component which, along with a greater diversity of site types, suggested a change in way of life, in terms of conceptions of the management of territory and its resources. According to our data and that of Núñez (1995, 1999; Núñez et al. 1999), the use of territory in the Formative included the prepuna ecological niche between 2370 and 3250 masl. During the Late Formative particular control was exercised over the environments of ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) the Oasis and lower quebradas, from a base at San Pedro, which was a population center composed of several gathering and horticultural communities. Also under control was the neighboring quebrada, a complementary sector appropriate for the better maintenance of herds and the obtention of primary materials, the use of open areas for the practice of horticulture, and, one assumes, moving about. The contemporaneity of the sites with others in Tulan and Puripica (Núñez 1999) suggests that different economies already existed, with the latter places predominant in the practices of hunting and herding. This panorama presented us with the problem of determining if there was a settlement system made up of groups from the same cultural tradition, that is established communities installed more permanently in the Oasis, but periodically occupying the Quebrada. Alternatively, the archaeological evidence may be an expression of two distinct cultural traditions, a Quebrada hunting tradition, a strong survival of the Archaic societies, and an Oasis tradition, of gathering and horticulture which began to manifest and develop the technological innovations of the time. According to the survey results (Agüero 2005) and studies of surface finds including pottery (Uribe 2006), stone objects (Carrasco 2004), architecture (Adán and Urbina 2007) and rock art evidence (Montt 2006), ten sites were selected, both from the Oasis (02-Po-12, 02-Po-18, and 02-Po-25 in Poconche, and Tchaputchayna in Beter), and from the Vilama Quebrada (Ghatchi-1A, Ghatchi-1B, Ghatchi-2B, Ghatchi-2C, 02-Vi-90, and Calar), to evaluate the preliminary results through excavations and new archaeometric tests, and through the functional analysis of these sites which represent different points of time in the Formative (Figures 1-4). - 324 Figure 1: Map indicating the sites excavated in the San Pedro Oasis and the Vilama Quebrada. During 2005 we excavated the ten sites, which, along with 16 absolute dates– ten radiocarbon dates and six thermoluminescence dates (Table 1)–allowed us to deepen the occupational history of San Pedro and advance discussion in terms of the hypotheses of this research. Given that we now have definite indications and propose a preliminary sequence which includes different categories of archaeological sites (Agüero 2005), we can now consider our hypothesis confirmed in that the initial Formative occupations had antecedents in the Archaic occupations which had only been documented previously in the high quebradas and 30 km to the south, at Tambillo. In the Vilama Quebrada and in San Pedro, the earliest evidence of the Formative in the area dates to the first millennium B.C., and is very strong from the beginning. However, around A.D. 100 Formative traits begin to become differentiated. We interpret this as a transition to a complementary economy based on hunting, herding, and gathering practices, and another economy based on gathering, horticulture, and artisan production. Thus we propose Phase 1 or Early Period (1200-350 B.C.), an analog to the Tilocalar Phase (Núñez 1999), evident in the quebradas of the Salar (salt pan region) and related to the Vega Alta 325 Phase of the Middle Loa Valley (Pollard 1970), all with a transitional economic organization. However, this is still debatable because we are not dealing with agropastoral societies with clear social hierarchies. Figure 2: Plan of site 02-Po-18 (See Figure 1). In this context, the Ghatchi-Calar Archaic groups temporarily exerted control over a large territory centrally positioned with respect to local resources such as circulation paths, travel and access to the puna, to the high quebradas of the Salado River, and the oasis of San Pedro. Their settlements did not necessarily function as village centers, but rather had a social, symbolic, and identity character, which is manifested in ceremonial constructions as well as at Tulan, in the south of the Salar (Núñez et al. 2006). This phase is centered in the quebrada sites of Ghatchi-2, but it includes Poconche 12 and Tchaputchayna in the Oasis. Later, during Phase 2 or the Middle Period (350 B.C. to A.D. 100) an increased population Current Research in Andean Archaeology stabilization and settlement took place in the Oasis, and villages like Calar, Ghatchi-1A (Figure 4), and Tulor were constructed, and cemeteries like Larache Acequia and Sequitor Alambrado Acequia were being established contemporaneously with Toconao Oriente (UTM 596000 E/ 7455200 N). In this sense, we believe that the stylistic change seen in the ceramics (Uribe 2006), among other artifacts, alludes to a strengthening of local identity, but not one characterized by “sedentary agricultural populations” (poblaciones agrarias estables; Tarragó 1989). On the contrary, on one hand the gathering of tree products (Prosopis sp. [carob or algarrobo] and Geoffraea decorticans [chañar]) was reinforced in the Oasis, while the practices of pastoralism were concentrated at Calar, along with the recent initiation of maize horticulture (Vidal 2007). To this was added the emerging production specialization in manufactured goods, to strengthen the exchange between both places, opening up possibilities of a promising long distance trade (Pimentel 2008). Nevertheless, the former did not support an agropastoral configuration backing a caravan system (Núñez and Dillehay 1978), especially because what one observes is a slight displacement in the hunting and pastoral economic systems in favor of another with emphasis on gathering and horticulture, promoting a surplus production and the development of manufactured goods to maintain control over the complementarity of their environment through internal trade. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 326 Figure 3: Plan of Ghatchi-2C Site Unit Layer Code Ghatchi-2C Ghatchi Vi90 Ghatchi Vi90 Ghatchi-2B Ghatchi-1A Calar Ghatchi-1B Poconche-18 Poconche-12 Tchaputchayna Poconche-12 Poconche-12 Poconche-12 Yaye C. de Toros* Yaye C. de Toros Yaye C. de Toros R12/1 1 1 R23/1 R12/1 R3/1 R4 4 3 T23/1 Tumba Le Paige ? Tumba Le Paige ? Tumba Le Paige ? Tr3, m2 Tr3, m2 Tr1, m10 3 (35 cm) F (67 cm, east sector) B (level 3, 23 cm) 3 (46 cm) Feature 1 (76-95 cm) 3 (level 10, 60-65 cm) 2 (84-88 cm) 4 (level 12, 70-80 cm) 4 (level 6, 60 cm) Feature 2 (50 cm) A-13938 A-14110 A-14114 AA-66972 AA-68401 A-14111 A-13936 AA-68400 A-14113 A-14112 UCTL 1611 UCTL 1612 UCTL 1610 UCTL 1614 UCTL 1613 UCTL 1615 Level 10 Level 10 Level 10 Calibrated BC-AD. (2 sigmas) / date BC-AD 4000-3350 BC 2204-1930 BC 1531-1392 BC 400-200 BC 113BC-239 AD 76-346 AD 210-620 AD 3638-3097 BC 430-641 AD 984-1296 AD 870 BC 845 BC 360 BC 380 BC 460 BC 640 BC Conventional BP / Age 4885±125 3685±50 3190±55 2245±35 1944±75 1810±55 1650±95 4640±100 1510±55 865±100 2870±260 2845±290 2360±140 2380±200 2460±240 1360±130 Sample Charcoal Charcoal Charcoal Charcoal Bone Charcoal Charcoal Bone Charcoal Charcoal Los Morros Ceramic Los Morros Ceramic Los Morros A Ceramic Los Morros B1 Ceramic Loa Café Alisado Ceramic Sequitor Ceramic Table 1: Radiocarbon and thermoluminescence dates obtained from settlements in the San Pedro de Atacama oasis and the Vilama Quebrada. *The Yaye Corral de Toros site was excavated by Hermosilla and colleagues (2003). Finally, a Phase 3 or Late Phase (A.D.100 to 500) is an analog to Sequitor (Tarragó 1989) in which greater growth occurred, as well as sedentarism restricted to San Pedro, converting it into the base of the Middle Period. Poconche 12 (02Po-12) and Tchaputchayna are the principal reference points along with Coyo-12 (UTM 582820 E/ 745950 N), and Coyo Oriente (UTM 578601 E/7460100N) (Llagostera y Costa 1999), Larache, Sequitor Alambrado, Sequitor Oriental, and Solor-6. Equally, important earlier settlements were abandoned, such as Calar and Tulor-1, restricting occupation towards the center and north of San Pedro, and, in the end, social and geographical circumscription occurred as required by the specialized local economic system and long distance trade. We can definitely conclude that it was neither agricultural production, nor caravan trade which played a central role in the complexity of the Atacama, which arose during the 327 - Current Research in Andean Archaeology Formative, but rather the ancestral Archaic dynamic related to the local resources of the quebradas and oases where the fruit and wood of carob and chañar caused San Pedro to convert itself into an attractive economic, social, and cultural center. Figure 6: Display at the Museo Arqueológico de San Pedro de Atacama. Figure 4: Plan of Ghatchi-1A. The approaches, objectives, activities, and results of the project were recently presented to the Atacama community by means of the exhibition, “Interpreting Atacama’s Past: An Archaeological Research Project in the Oasis of San Pedro” (“Interpretando el pasado atacameño: Una investigación arqueológica en los Oasis de San Pedro”) in December 2007 and January 2008 in the Museo Arqueológico de San Pedro de Atacama (Figure 6). Translated from the Spanish by Monica Barnes REFERENCES CITED Figure 5: Ghatchi-1A, area (recinto) 12, unit 1. Adán A., Leonor and Simón Urbina A. 2007 Arquitectura formativa en San Pedro de Atacama. Estudios Atacameños 34:7-30. Agüero, Carolina 2005 Aproximación al asentamiento temprano en los oasis de San Pedro de Atacama. Estudios Atacameños 30:29-60. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Berenguer, José, Ángel Deza, Alvaro Román, and Agustín Llagostera 1986 La secuencia de Myriam Tarragó para San Pedro de Atacama: Un test por termoluminiscencia. Revista Chilena de Antropología 5:17-54. Carrasco, Carlos 2004 Materialidad lítica de sitios habitacionales formativos de la quebrada de Viloma y oasis de San Pedro de Atacama. Report of the FONDECYT Project 1030 931, Santiago de Chile. Hermosilla, Nuriluz, Rodrigo Sánchez, and Mauricio Uribe 2003 [ms.] Proyecto Hotel en Ayllu de Yaye, San Pedro de Atacama, II Región: Amplición de Línea base sitio “Corral de Toros”. Report for AMBAR S.A. Llagostera, Agustín 1996 San Pedro de Atacama: Nodo de complementariedad reticular. In La integración surandina cinco siglos después, edited by Xavier Albó, María Inés Arratia, Jorge Hidalgo, Lautaro Núñez, Agustín Llagostera, María Isabel Remy, and Bruno Reresz, pp. 17-42. Arica, Chile: Corporación Norte Grande, Taller de Estudios Andinos; Antofagasta, Chile: Universidad Católica del Norte de Antofagasta; and Cusco, Perú: Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos “Bartolomé de Las Casas”. Estudios y Debates Regionales Andinos 91. Llagostera, Agustín and M. Antonietta Costa 1999 Patrones de asentamiento en la época agroalfarea de San Pedro de Atacama (Norte de Chile). Estudios Atacameños 17:175-206. Montt, Indira 2006 Evidencias rupestres de Ghatchi (cuenca del rio Vilama, San Pedro de Atacama). Master’s thesis in anthropology, Universidad Católica del Norte and Universidad de Tarapacá, San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. Núñez, Lautaro 1995 Evolución de la ocupación y organización del espacio atacameño. In Agua: Ocupación del espacio y economía campesina en la región atacameña, aspectos dinámicos, edited by Louis Pourrut and Lautaro Núñez, pp. 18-60. Antofagasta: Universidad Católica del Norte. 1999 Fase Tilocalar: Nuevas evidencias formativas en la puna de Atacama (norte de Chile). In Formativo sudamericano: Una revaluación, edited by Paulina Ledergerber-Crespo, pp. 227-242. Quito: Ediciones ABYA-YALA. 2005 La naturaleza de la expansión aldeana durante el formativo tardío en la cuenca de Atacama. Chungara: Revista de Antropología Chilena 37(2):165-193. - 328 Núñez, Lautaro and Tom D. Dillehay 1978 Movilidad giratoria, armonía social y desarrollo en los Andes meridionales: Patrones de tráfico e interacción económica (ensayo). Antofagasta, Chile: Universidad del Norte. Núñez, Lautaro, Martin Grosjean, and Isabel Cartajena 1999 Un ecorefugio oportunístico en la puna de Atacama durante eventos áridos del Holoceno medio. Estudios Atacameños 17:125-174. Núñez, Lautaro, Isabel Cartajena, Carlos Carrasco, Patricio de Souza, and Martin Grosjean 2006 Emergencia de comunidades pastoralistas formativas en el sureste de la puna de Atacama. Estudios Atacameños 32:93-117. Pimentel, Gonzalo G. 2008 Evidencias formativas en una vía interregional entre San Pedro de Atacama y el altiplano de Lípez. Estudios Atacameños 35:7-33. Pollard, Gordon 1970 The Cultural Ecology of Ceramic Stage Settlement in the Atacama Desert. Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University in the City of New York. Tarragó, Miriam 1989 Contribución al conocimiento arqueológico de las poblaciones de los oasis de San Pedro de Atacama en relación con los otros pueblos puneños, en especial el sector septentrional del valle Calchaqui. Doctoral dissertation in history, with a specialization in anthropology, Universidad Nacional de Rosario, Facultad de Humanidades y Artes, Rosario, Argentina. Uribe, Mauricio 2006 Sobre cerámica, su origen y complejidad social en los Andes del desierto de Atacama, norte de Chile. In Esferas de interacción prehispánicas y fronteras nacionales modernas: Los Andes sur centrales, edited by Heather Lechtman, pp. 449502. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and New York: Institute of Andean Research. Vidal, Alejandra 2007 Patrones de uso de los recursos vegetales durante el período Formativo en los oasis de San Pedro de Atacama. B.A. thesis in archaeology, Universidad de Chile, Santiago. 329 - Current Research CHILE Tarapacá Region The National Fund to Support Science and Technology (Fondo Nacional de Apoyo a la Ciencia y Tecnología–FONDECYT) financed Project 1030923, “The Pica-Tarapacá Complex: Proposals for an Archaeology of the Societies of the South-Central Andes (A.D. 1000-1540)” (“El Complejo Pica-Tarapacá: Propuestas para una arqueología de las sociedades de los Andes Centro-Sur [1000-1540 DC]”), directed by Mauricio Uribe (Universidad de Chile, e-mail: mur@uchile.cl), Leonor Adán (Universidad Austral, e-mail: ladan@uach.cl), Carolina Agüero (Universidad Católica del Norte, email: maguero@ucn.cl), Cora Moragas (e-mail: emoragas@vtr.net), and Flora Viches (Universidad Católica del Norte, e-mail: fvilches @ucn.cl). With this project we are making an archaeological evaluation of the Tarapacá region from an interpretative perspective. We are studying associated materials to identify elements which will let us confirm or disprove the existence of the Pica-Tarapacá Complex of the Late Intermediate Period (LIP) as a geographical and cultural entity. During the fourth and last year (2006), which we report on here, we studied the settlement of Pukarqollu (Altiplano of Isluga) and its environs, in relation to its architecture and rock art, performing typological, functional, and archaeometric analyses of evidence recovered from the surface and in excavations. We proceeded in the same way as for the sites investigated previously, making comparisons with reference materials from the coast and from the interior of the region (Figure 1). Figure 1: Map of the study area showing the principal sites mentioned in the text. Architecture Pukarqollu has 586 structures which we evaluated by comparison with the Tarapaqueño traditions of the coast, the valleys of the lower Pampa del Tamarugal, and the highlands, as defined in previous years. The earliest architectural tradition is Formative and was dependent on the exploration of the resources of the Pampa, its quebradas, and the coast. It is characterized by distinctive settlements with public architecture, such as open, as well as enclosed, plazas. It had a role in intensive gathering and social assemblage on the Pampa. In this sense, it is the heir of the Late Caserones occupation which has more than 600 structures. Later, between Camiña and Mamiña, we detected another settlement system, contemporaneous with, and later than, the one established earlier. In late prehispanic times it occupied the quebradas where a Highland Tradition (Tradición de Tierras Altas) developed. This tradition combined several manifestations of ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) domestic and public architecture, placing them on hillsides or on mountains, in order to control the valleys, and implemented terrace building techniques to increase surface area. Camiña and Nama, with around 600 structures each, and Chusmisa and Jamajuga with around 200 structures each, reveal social groups which were increasingly enclosed. Public areas were minimized or differentiated from habitation spaces, and include cists, rock art, and/or chullpas (burial towers) which also served as places for social and economic gatherings and are related to the cult of the ancestors, tying this system to the Altiplano of Isluga and Carangas, Bolivia. Pukarqollu belongs to the Highland Tradition with areas devoted to herding and storage, and with the conspicuous public architecture of the Altiplano, including plazas and surrounding chullpas. In parallel, on the coast, a tradition of versatile constructions arose, which goes back to the end of the Archaic and the beginning of the Formative and continued during the LIP. In Pisagua we discerned groups of no more than 25 structures which represent different sorts of occupation, both disperse and nucleated, with specialized areas for fishing and the hunting of marine mammals. The coastal, Formative, and Altiplano forms were clearly based on those of the quebradas from Camiña to Mamiña. These manifestations mark part of a highland cultural sphere (Adán et al.: 2007). Ceramics, stratigraphy, and chronology We are evaluating the Pukarqollu ceramics, comparing them with those of the coast, the lower Pampa valleys, and the highlands, which we examined in previous years, making a sample of the 21,000 sherds recovered. According to typology and stratigraphic positioning, the settlements and their ceramics cover the time from the Formative to the Inca. This cultural continuity, in contrast to Arica, is not marked - 330 by the intervention of Tiwanaku. The high frequency of Pica-Tarapacá monochrome pottery at all sites indicates that their principal occupation occurred during the LIP. This includes the Pampa, the valley settlements, those on the coast, and in the quebradas. The transition from Formative ceramics, and their regional development, is delineated by the Pampa and the coast, by villages such as Caserones in the Quebrada de Tarapacá, and by the cemeteries of Pica and Iquique. Later, a gradual integration began with the high quebradas. This marks the second phase of the LIP which includes a high proportion of Altiplano bichrome pottery, especially at Caragas. Thus, from A.D. 1200, economic changes occurred and new links were forged among the central Altiplano, Arica, and the Atacama. Taking account of this, we propose two phases for the Pica-Tarapacá Complex, named for the locations which exemplify them. We call the phases the Tarapacá Phase (890-1250 cal. A.D.) and the Camiña Phase (1200-1430 cal. A.D.). It was the latter phase which was dominant at the arrival of the Incas in Tarapacá Viejo around 1532 A.D. (Table 1). In Caserones, the lower levels yield dates corresponding to the Formative. In contexts with ceramics, forest resources, and on the coast, the upper levels are LIP. In Camiña there was a first occupation with Formative ceramics present, which is similar to Caserones, and which we also detected in Chusmisa, Jamajuga, and Tarapacá Viejo. However, the most important occupation of these settlements corresponds to the Camiña Phase, whose indications dominate the upper quebradas with terracing to support more permanent habitations and with an agricultural concentration. Finally, the Pukarqollu contexts are predominantly Altiplano, suggesting a different situation from that observed in the Tarapacá quebradas (Uribe et al. 2007). 331 - Current Research (a) Sample Beta-220919 Beta-220918 Beta-220917 Beta-210436 Beta-227581 Beta-210442 Beta-227580 Beta-210435 Beta-220921 Beta-210437 Beta-210441 Beta-220920 Site Caserones 1 Caserones 1 Caserones 1 Nama 1 Pukarqollu Camiña 1 Pukarqollu Pisagua N Jamajuga Nama 1 Camiña 1 Chusmisa (b) Sample UCTL 1638 UCTL 1798 UCTL 1799 UCTL 1800 UCTL 1639 UCTL 1801 UCTL 1634 UCTL 1802 UCTL 1636 UCTL 1633 UCTL 1632 UCTL 1635 UCTL 1637 UCTL 1803 UCTL 1804 Site Pisagua N Caserones 1 Caserones 1 Caserones 1 Pisagua N Caserones 1 Pisagua N Camiña 1 Pisagua N Pisagua B Pisagua B Pisagua N Pisagua N Camiña 1 Camiña 1 Area 526 468 7 287 499 296 317 1 5A 67 139 89 Area 19, Stratum 7A 7, Stratum 1 280, Stratum R1B 516, Stratum 3B 19, Stratum 14 516, Stratum 3B 6, Stratum 4A 119, Stratum 1B 12, Stratum 4A F1, Stratum 1 E1, Stratum 2 12, Stratum 3A 19, Stratum 2A 250, Stratum 1 215, Stratum 3 R1 Level 5C 3A 3 1 6 R1 2C 2A 3A 1B 4 3/4 R1 Age (years BP) Cal 1870-1700 Cal 1840-1540 Cal 1060-930 Cal 970-750 Cal 940-700 Cal 930-740 Cal 930-740 Cal 920-700 Cal 790-660 Cal 790-570 Cal 750-550 Cal 650-520 Date 80-250 A.D. 110-410 A.D. 890-1020 A.D. 980-1200 A.D. 1010-1260 A.D. 1020-1210 A.D. 1020-1210 A.D. 1030-1250 A.D. 1160-1290 A.D. 1160-1380 A.D. 1200-1400 A.D. 1300-1430 A.D. Level PCH PCH PCH CNP DUP QTC IND 1 ISL PCH PCZ PCH AND AND PCH PGA Age (years BP) 1710±150 1125±110 1115±10 1110±110 1040±95 1035±100 780±80 675±40 645±50 605±60 555±40 545±50 530±50 525±50 390±40 Date 290 A.D. 880 A.D. 890 A.D. 895 A.D. 960 A.D. 970 A.D. 1220 A.D. 1330 A.D. 1355 A.D. 1395 A.D. 1445 A.D. 1455 A.D. 1470 A.D. 1480 A.D. 1615 A.D. Table 1: Radiocarbon (a) and thermoluminescent dates (b) obtained for the Pica-Tarapacá Complex. Rock art We studied 274 rock art panels in Camiña, Tarapacá Viejo, Chusmisa, Jamajuga, and Pukarqollu, comparing them with the isolated geoglyphs and petroglyphs that suggest interpretations that relate Tarapacá rock art exclusively with trade routes and caravans. Beneath this economic character we detect one more social and quotidian, because in settlements there is a greater variety of figures, including animals, insects, and plants which indicates an intense study of the local environment. The images are, for the most part, represented in a fashion particular to each site, and include simple variations on the circle, the zigzag, and an undefined lineal geometric figure, simple camelids and complex anthropomorphic personages. The absence of rock art on the coast and on the Altiplano indicates that, as a means of expression in domestic spaces, it is an element of the quebradas. Likewise, its variety across settlements indicates differing social relations during the LIP, because few works of rock art were made before that time. In consequence, this rock art is concentrated in places where a lot of agricultural activity and mobility took place, without Altiplano public architecture, forcing a contrast between the local and the foreign. Likewise, the presence or absence of rock art, the diversity of techniques, and the large inventory of motifs and renderings, indicate the cultural complexity of heterogenous societies. Given that it is probable that this art served as a catalyst for the development of differences, for ritual, and/or for exchange, it must have had an important role on various levels. In fact, rock art and foreign images are most frequent in locations where it was necessary to justify and reaffirm a political or ethnic presence, which are frequently outside the villages. In such places the making of rock art ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) seems to have been an element added to a symbolic and relational landscape which reflects the social diversity and segmentation of the time (Cabello and Vilches 2006). - 332 maintained contacts with other regions and subareas of the central Andes. Nevertheless, there was no coexistence or permeability with Tiwanaku, as was the case with Azapa to judge from the closeness of the Osmore Valley. Textiles We studied 333 tunics collected at eight funerary sites on the coast and lower valleys of Tarapacá between Pisagua and the Loa River, confirming the development of a textile style particular to the region. This includes warpfaced trapezoid tunics with warp-finished, curved edges, and lateral multi-colored stripes and/or embroideries in loop stitch, or satin stitch, as well as chuspas (small fabric bags used to contain coca leaves) and bag-belts decorated with complementary and floating warps, in addition to striped domestic bags. All of these textiles employ a single web, a choice which characterizes the western valleys, but the curve in the borders of the tunics is a technological innovation characteristic of this region that was already known in the Formative. Textiles from Iquique are clearly related to those from Pica, even though they differ in quality, richness, and diversity. Likewise, there are garments made with local techniques and materials characteristic of the maritime activities of the Archaic Tradition. In this sense, the reduced richness and variety on the coast, and the recurrence of repairs, indicates a dependence on the textiles from the interior from a few centers like Pisagua and Iquique where textiles are concentrated. Just as many textiles were distributed from the interior to the coast, and from certain places on the coast textiles were distributed to other places on the shore. According to what is observed from Cemetery C, excavated by Uhle at Pisagua, known as “Tiahuanaco”, and from certain sites in the upper Loa Valley, it appears that at the beginning of the LIP this region During this time, in certain cases coincident with the end of the Middle Horizon (Período Medio) or Formative, there may have been a fluid textile exchange between Pica-Tarapacá and its cultural borders, which, in an eclectic sort of way, forced the development of its own identity, with clothing providing a method for the demonstration and exercise of power, perhaps by means of exclusive garments. We are impeded, for now, in the investigation of the second phase of the LIP when the high quebradas we occupied. There textiles are not preserved (Agüero 2007). Stone objects We are analyzing 1,418 stone objects from Jamajuga and Pukarqollu in addition to those materials previously recorded from nine settlements with architecture from different settings in the region. Although it is true that each site has a diversity of categories related to a variety of activities, there was also production emphases which distinguish them. All of them supplied themselves locally with primary materials of great thickness (andesites, basalts, granites), and, to complement these, with rocks from distant places. Common at all sites were cores, scrapers, projectile points, and cutting tools. The cores were sometimes the most important because from them were extracted matrices used to keep knives sharp or to make instruments, or, they were used to cut and scrape. On the other hand, each settlement had the tendency to use specific tools related to its economic orientation. While at some sites (Pisagua and Camiña) hunting was the most developed activity, at others such as Nama and 333 Pukarqollu, agricultural or gathering tasks were more important, an interpretation backed up by the abundance of hoes (Carrasco 2006). Zooarchaeological and malacological analysis In 2006 we studied 605 bones from Pukarqollu and defined a system of provisioning based on the consumption of camelids, and, to a lesser extent, on smaller fauna which characterized the Altiplano in spite of their availability in the environment. In previous years we discerned two systems. Coastal sites were provided with marine resources close at hand, and were, therefore, quite homogenous, except for Pisagua B, which had a slightly greater hunting of marine mammals which brought down the frequency of fish, and for Pisagua N which, on the contrary, had a rise in fish resources and a decline in hunting activities. In the lower quebradas, and on the coast, we observe a unity in a basic custom, in which interior settlements depend on maritime resources, assigning camelids an alternative role, exploiting by-products like wool, more than using them for food. In Camiña there was a high percentage of rodents, as well as a single species of camelids, adding to them sparse fish resources, which signals a connection with the coast during the earliest occupations, in a manner like that of Caserones. Considering what has just been noted, the advance towards the interior translates into an increase in dependency on camelids, and an implementation and expansion of their husbandry from the Altiplano to the upper quebradas. This dependency increased with time, to judge by the almost exclusive presence of the remains of this taxon at Tarapacá Viejo (González in press). On the other hand, objects made with mollusc remains had three uses: 1) ornaments for the human body, for example, necklaces, bracelets, and accessories for clothing or hair- Current Research dos; 2) containers, for example, for pigments; and 3) small cutting tools or points. Beads made from different mollusc shells, usually from Oliva peruviana, are characteristic of the quebradas, but absent at Caserones and Tarapacá Viejo. Beads are encountered at all sites, except coastal ones, in which molluscs represent the remains of food, although there are tools made of bivalves. In Caserones, in early times, there was more diversity of species, artefacts, and uses of malacological resources, suggesting a greater experimentation at a time of fixed norms for the production of objects. In Camiña, we noted places dating from a later time dedicated to the production of beads, which we interpret as an indication of artisan specialization, supported also by a manufacturing which was quite uniform. Oliva peruviana was converted into the preferred species, as we see in Camiña, Nama, or Chusmisa, or used in a more modest manner on the Altiplano. Thus, we emphasize the transition from a diversity of objects made domestically, to a specialized system and standardization with Oliva peruviana characteristic of the highlands (Valenzuela 2006). Arqueobotanical analysis We analyzed 3018 plant remains from Tarapacá Viejo, Nama, Chusmisa, Jamajuga, and Pukarqollu. Previously we had postulated that the coastal societies in Pisagua oriented themselves towards the collection of local woodland species although they knew maize, carob (algarrobo, Prosopis algarrobilla), squash, and beans, products of the Pampa and quebradas, suggesting a strong relationship with the valleys. In Caserones, the equal abundance of algarrobo and maize in the sites indicates that agriculture was fundamental to the economy from the Formative onwards, along with the intensive gathering and tree cultivation of the groves of Prosopis, marked by community control, according to the analysis of architecture. To this we add the possible insertion of dynamics of interre- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) gional exchange demonstrated by exotic elements such as cotton, cebil (a South American tree valued for its seeds used as a hallucinogen), peanut, Mucuna sp., Aspidosperma desmanthum, and Prosopis algarrobilla. This site gradually moved away from the forest resources of the Pampa in order to concentrate more on the cultivation of maize and other crops. Later, at Jamajuga, Nama, and Chusmisa the most significant cultigens were maize and quinoa, demonstrating the move away from gathering, turning towards the agrarian control characteristic of the quebradas. Finally, vegetal remains are sparse at Pukarqollu. Nevertheless, we identified Chenopodium quinoa, locally cultivated in prehispanic times, brought from the Altiplano to the valleys and quebradas such as Camiña (García 2007). Bioanthropological and mortuary analysis We studied 21 skeletons from Pica 8 in order to know the biological profile of the principal regional cemetery. The results indicate that the population was under heavy environmental and pathogenic (principally tuberculosis) stress. That is, they endured cultural processes common to complex agricultural societies in deficient sanitary conditions, high levels of sedentariness, and overcrowding. Nevertheless, the environmental stress was not sufficient to create severe nutritional problems. On the other hand, there were differences in the indications of oral health which suggest different ways of life and specific conduct of the genders to which was added some violence towards women. The analysis of 25% of the Pica 8 (n=66) contexts distinguishes a Tarapacá style recurrent on gourds, basketry (cestería and capachos), and spatulas. The analysis also discovered that 51.79% of the contexts were simple, 33.92% were somewhat complex, and only 14.29% were complex, supporting the idea of a hierarchical society. Also suggested is the existence of indi- - 334 viduals in charge of rites, for example, those buried with ritual bundles and hallucinogen paraphernalia, as well as of people associated with specific tasks such as musicians. For example, panpipes (zampoñas) are present. Other individuals were linked to working the earth and subsistence activities. The objects also reveal a society permeable to the iconography and textiles of the extreme north of Chile, to the psychotropic complex of the Atacama, and to polychrome ceramics from the Altiplano. The finds allude to diverse practices of interaction, integration, and politics. On the other hand, the coast dominated the repertory of hunting and fishing artifacts, with agricultural implements being almost entirely absent. Craneometric analysis and discrete traits complement the differential accumulation of funerary goods in Pica 8, indicating social strata generally different due to migratory processes or endogamy (Catalán 2006; Retamal 2006). In summary, during the LIP the Tarapacá region was characterized by historically distinct groups, represented by the coastal communities, by those of the lower valleys and the Pampa, and by people from the quebradas and Altiplano, who constituted independent units which were, nevertheless, related to one another and complementary economically and socially, defining specific identities and practices in both the domestic and public spheres. This heterogeneity had antecedents in local developments, taking account of the Archaic and Formative experiences, and bringing them to the cultural frontiers through economic interaction, and, fundamentally, suggesting the domestic or family conduct of relatives which was sanctioned in the community space. Through this, more than through the conduct of great lords, these dynamics responded to collective decisions which defined the privileged ambit for manifestations of hierarchy and power. In this way, differences and inequalities operated according to place of origin, economic activity, 335 and family ties, permitting hierarchies, the multiethnic occupation of land, access to resources, or the transactions of caravans. All this occurred with the aid of traits expressed on clothing, ceramics, jewelry, or rock art, which allowed both communicating and concealing, conducting business or co-opting, in places of convergence along the lines of Andean ayni (Quechua for “mutual aid”) and taipi (Aymara for “the place where things converge”). Translation from the Spanish by Monica Barnes REFERENCES CITED Adán A., Leonor, Simón Urbina A., and Mauricio Uribe R. 2007 Arquitectura pública y doméstica en las Quebradas de Pica-Tarapacá: Asentamiento y dinámica social en el norte de Chile (900-1450 d.C). In Procesos sociales prehispánicos en el sur andino: La vivienda, la comunidad y el territorio, edited by Axel E. Nielsen, M. Clara Rivolta, Verónica Seldes, María M. Vásquez, and Pablo H. Meriolli, pp. 183-206. Córdoba, Argentina: Editorial Brujas. Agüero, Carolina 2007 Acerca del rol del vestuario en el surgimiento, desarrollo y consolidación del complejo Pica-Tarapacá. Master’s thesis in anthropology, Universidad Católica del Norte and Universidad de Tarapacá, San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. Cabello, Gloria and Flora Vilches 2006 [ms.] El arte rupestre asociado al complejo PicaTarapacá: Informe para Proyecto FONDECYT 1030923. Current Research Carrasco, Carlos 2006 [ms.] Producción lítica en la prehistoria tardía de Tarapacá: La materialidad lítica durante el complejo Pica-Tarapacá. Informe para Proyecto FONDECYT 1030923. Catalán, Dánisa 2006 El rito funerario en la prehistoria tardía del norte de Chile: Una aproximación a las expresiones ideológico-simbólicas tarapaqueñas a partir de los tejidos y objetos muebles. Bachelor’s Thesis (Memoria para optar al título de arqueóloga), Departamento de Antropología, Universidad de Chile, Santiago. García, Magdalena 2007 Restos vegetales asociados al complejo Pica-Tarapacá durante la fase Camiña (1250-1450 d.C.). Bachelor’s Thesis (Memoria para optar al título de arqueóloga), Departamento de Antropología, Universidad de Chile, Santiago. González, Josefina in press Arqueofauna del Período Intermedio Tardío: Complejo Pica-Tarapacá. Actas del XVII Congreso Nacional de Arqueología Chilena. Valdivia, Chile: Universidad Austral. Retamal, Rodrigo 2006 [ms.] Perfil osteobiográfico del cementerio Pica 8: Morfología y paleopatología. Informe para Proyecto FONDECYT 1030923. Uribe, Mauricio, Lorena Sanhueza, and Francisco Bahamondes 2007 La cerámica prehispánica tardía de Tarapacá, sus valles interiores y costa desértica: Una propuesta tipológica y cronológica. Chungará: Revista de Antropología Chilena 39(2):143-170. Valenzuela, Jimena. 2006 [ms.] El material malacológico y el complejo Pica-Tarapacá: Uso social y simbolismo de las conchas marinas en la prehistoria tardía del norte de Chile. Informe para Proyecto FONDECYT 1030923. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 336 Bolivia NEW ARCHAEOLOGICAL PROJECTS IN BOLIVIA AND ROCK ART Matthias Strecker, Freddy Taboada, and Claudia Rivera (all SIARB, La Paz, e-mail: siarb@acelerate.com; Taboada - Museo Nacional de Etnografía y Folklore, La Paz) write that the Bolivian Rock Art Research Society (SIARB) is conducting several projects that preserve rock art in archaeological parks and incorporate archaeological research. km northwest of the city of Vallegrande, is one of the most important rock art sites in Bolivia, due to its sequence of traditions that span millennia. Work from several prehispanic periods, as well as Colonial times, can be found at the site (Figure 2; Strecker 1999). Figure 2: Paja Colorada Cave. Recording by Matthias Strecker. Drawing by Renán Cordero (from Strecker 1999:7 and volume cover). Figure 1: Location of sites mentioned in the text. (1) Lajasmayu, Betanzos, Dept. of Potosí; (2) Vallegrande region, Dept. of Santa Cruz, location of Paja Colorada and Mataral Caves. The Vallegrande Project This initiative concentrates on two sites, Paja Colorada and Mataral in the municipalities of Moro Moro, and Pampa Grande, in the western portion of Department of Santa Cruz (Figure 1). The small cave of Paja Colorada, 35 The most ancient representations are more than twenty negative stenciled hands (Figure 3), which are extremely rare in the Andes. Similar representations in Patagonia at Cueva de las Manos, Argentina, a UNESCO World Heritage site, have great antiquity. They belong to several stylistic groups. The oldest such hands were made about 9300 years ago. The practice of making them possibly continued into the fourth millennium B.C. (Gradin 1988:9). 337 - Figure 3: Paja Colorada Cave: hand stencil and painted animal figure. Photograph by Roland Félix. Until November 2003 Paja Colorada Cave remained without protection, although vandalism by visitors had begun. SIARB and the Municipality of Moro Moro received partial funding from the Cultural Foundation of Bolivia’s Central Bank and installed a fence at the entrance, impeding uncontrolled visits (Figure 4). Following a request by SIARB, the World Monuments Fund included Paja Colorada in its Watch List of 100 endangered sites selected world-wide for the year 2004. Figure 4: Paja Colorada Cave protected by fencing. Photograph by Ian Wainwright. In 2006, Claudia Rivera (SIARB, e-mail clauri68@yahoo.com) and her collaborators, Current Research Sergio Calla (SIARB) and Patricia Alvarez (Universidad Mayor de San Andrés, La Paz) made a preliminary archaeological survey of the region of Paja Colorada (30 km2) registering 33 sites. They also partially excavated the cave and found remains of two hearths in the cave floor. AMS dating of charcoal (ANSTO Laboratory, Australia) yielded dates with a range of A.D. 250-900. In addition, they documented and catalogued the archaeological collection of the regional museum at Vallegrande. According to the information they obtained, the archaeological evidence includes the Preceramic Period, the Formative Period, the Regional Development Period, the Inka Horizon, and the ColonialRepublican Period (Taboada 2008:18-19). Freddy Taboada is directing a rock art recording project and has been able to recognize six different phases of rock art. He is working in conjunction with Robert Mark (Rupestrian Cyber Services, e-mail rockart@infomagic.net) who undertook a new photographic survey of the cave. Taboada and Canadian conservation scientist Ian Wainwright (Canadian Conservation Institute [retired], e-mail wainwright@uniserve.com) carried out a condition survey of the cave. In 2007 Taboada removed graffiti, while Wainwright took seven pigment samples of white, yellow, and red paint. These were analyzed by him and Mati Raudsepp (University of British Columbia, e-mail mraudsepp @eos.ubc.ca). The results of SEM-EDS and XRD analyses have been published in detail (Wainwright and Raudsepp 2008). The investigators identified hematite, goethite, kaolinite, and illite/muscovite. The authors suggest that a more detailed examination of the sequence of Paja Colorada rock art might allow researchers to investigate relative and absolute dating of the paintings using pigment analyses, cross-section microanalysis, and AMS C14 dating. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) Taboada and Strecker wrote a preliminary management plan for the administration of the site, as well as a proposal for the construction of a visitors’ center. Carlos Kaifler (SIARB, Santa Cruz, Bolivia) installed signboards at the site. Rivera conducted two training courses for local people interested in working as guides for visitors to the archaeological park. Betanzos Project in the Deptment of Potosí The first reports about rock art at Betanzos were published in newspapers in the late 1970s. During the 1980s and 1990s preliminary recordings were carried out by SIARB investigators. Several publications (e.g. Strecker 1990, 2003) present preliminary results and point to a long sequence of rock art traditions. - 338 Archaeological research in the central region of Potosí (Lecoq and Céspedes 1997:33) revealed prehispanic occupation from the Preceramic Periods until the Inka Horizon. There are three preceramic sites (-6000-2000 B.C.) reported near Betanzos in small caves or rock shelters with rock paintings. Additionally, the Bolivian archaeologist Jorge Arellano (personal communication, 1986) analyzed a small sample of surface finds in the area of Lajasmayu. He tentatively identified a lithic instrument of the Preceramic Period (Strecker 2003: figure 16AD), as well as Formative, post-Tiwanaku, and Inka ceramics (Strecker 1990, 2003). Strecker believes that the rock paintings of Lajasmayu belong to several different traditions pertaining to different time periods (Figures 6, 7). In addition, there are a few Spanish Colonial representations (Figure 8) and some later graffiti. Apparently, the earliest phase consists of very small camelids represented in movement and painted in dark red, in a few cases accompanied by stylized human figures (Figure 7). Figure 5: Lajasmayu River and rock art site. Photograph by Matthias Strecker. The criteria for selecting one particular cliff face of Cerro Lajasmayu for repeated painting over millennia may include its high visibility in the landscape, its proximity to the river, and its location along an ancient trading route (Figure 5). In the 1980s, caravans of llamas still crossed the Lajasmayu River near the rock with the paintings. In 1986 we met a caravan transporting salt from Lake Uyuni some 200 km to the southwest. Figure 6: Rock painting at Lajasmayu. The design is typical of a phase which had ceramics and textiles. Photograph by Matthias Strecker. 339 - Figure 7: Rock paintings at Lajasmayu. Red camelids with human figures, one with partially obliterated headdress. Possible hunting scene. Recording and drawing by Freddy Taboada (from Strecker 1990: 198) Current Research infrastructure at sites and sign boards, publication of leaflets for visitors, and the construction of a visitors’ center with a permanent exhibition on the rock art sites, as well as publication of a report in the Boletín by SIARB. This project is partially supported by the The Ambassador’s Fund for Preservation (United States Department of State, Cultural Heritage Center). Work directed by Freddy Taboada (president of SIARB, conservator and curator), Matthias Strecker (coordinator), and Claudia Rivera (archaeologist) is scheduled to take place from mid-2008 to mid-2010. REFERENCES CITED Figure 8: Colonial rock paintings at Lajasmayu depicting a horse and rider and an upside human figure. Recording by Matthias Strecker. Drawing by Fernando Huaranca (from Strecker 1992:99) SIARB has recently been approached by representatives of the municipal government of Betanzos who are aware of the potential of the rock art sites for tourism and of the problems created by vandalism. In 2007, SIARB and the municipality signed an agreement to plan a project. The SIARB project aims at protecting the principal rock art sites at Lajasmayu near Betanzos. The suggested plan of action includes preliminary meetings and consultations, archaeological survey and excavations, recording of rock art, conservation analysis and treatment, an education campaign and training courses for guides and site stewards, coordination with tourism agencies, topographical work, basic Gradin, Carlos J. 1988 Arte rupestre de la Patagonia: Nuevo aporte para el conocimiento de la bibliografía. In Contribuciones al Estudio del Arte Rupestre Sudamericano 2:5-35. (La Paz, Bolivia: SIARB). Lecoq, Patrice and Ricardo Céspedes 1997 Panorama archéologique des zones méridionales de Bolivie (sud-est de Potosí). Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines 26(1):21-61. Strecker, Matthias 1990 The rock paintings of Lajasmayu, Betanzos, Department of Potosí, Bolivia. American Indian Rock Art 16:189-210. Proceedings of the International Rock Art Conference and 16th Annual Meeting of the American Rock Art Research Association. National Park Service, ARARA, University of Texas at Austin. 1992 Arte Rupestre Colonial de Betanzos, Depto. de Potosí, Bolivia. Contribuciones al Estudio del Arte Rupestre Sudamericano 3:95-102 (La Paz, Bolivia: SIARB). 1999 Nuestra Portada. Boletín SIARB 13:3-7. 2003 Arte Rupestre de Betanzos, Dept. de Potosí, Bolivia. Aproximación a su Cronología. Boletín SIARB 17:36-53. A digital version has been published in: Rupestreweb: http://rupestreweb.tripod.com/betanzos.html (Consulted 4 September 2008). Taboada Téllez, Freddy 2008 El Arte rupestre de la cueva Paja Colorada, Municipio de Moro Mora, Depto. de Santa Cruz. Boletín SIARB 22:17-40. Wainwright, Ian N. M. and Raudsepp, Mati 2008 Identificación de pigmentos de pinturas rupestres en Paja Colorada, Prov. Vallegrande, Depto. de Santa Cruz. Boletín SIARB 22:41-45. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) PERU Exchange at Chavín de Huántar: Insights from Shell Data Matthew P. Sayre (University of California at Berkeley, e-mail: sayre@berkeley.edu) and Natali Luisa López Aldave (Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, e-mail: fortaleza2003@hotmail.es) chronicle some of the recent history of excavations at the site of Chavín de Huántar, specifically in the La Banda sector. They present analysis of archaeological shell material in order to examine patterns of ancient exchange. The shells also provide evidence of past climatic fluctuations. Ecological and Archaeological Background Chavín de Huántar is in the Callejón de Conchucos in the Huari Province of the Department of Ancash, in the farming or Quechua Zone which is between 2300 and 3500 masl (Pulgar Vidal 1972:75). Chavín de Huántar itself stands at 3150 meters where two rivers meet in an intermontane valley. Most central highland archaeological sites are located in the Quechua zone where the climate is most hospitable for human habitation. A relatively mild climate allows a wide variety of crop plants to be grown. The weather is seasonally marked, with most of the annual precipitation falling from November to April. Many archaeologists (Burger 1995:128; Lathrap 1973; Lumbreras 1974:67, 1989:13; Tello 1942:30-31, 1960:26, 36) have described Chavín as optimally located halfway between the Pacific coast and the Amazon rainforest. However, it is not in one of the easiest places to cross the Andes and there are many highland sites that have better access to the coast (Rick 2008:8). Nevertheless, the time required may not have been a major constraint. It would have - 340 been possible to travel to the coast with camelids bearing goods in under two weeks. Chavín was a meeting point of diverse peoples who created their world both through the construction of monumental architecture and the daily process of living and working in a highland valley. The remarkable religious building there, and the practitioners of rites within it, served as a magnet for foreign goods. Thus it is not surprising to find quantities of shell in the settlements surrounding the temple. Stanford Archaeological Project at Chavín de Huántar (Proyecto Stanford Chavín de Huántar) In 1994 the Stanford Project, under the direction of John Rick, began field research at Chavín de Huántar. The project initially focused on mapping the ceremonial center with highly accurate laser tools. The refined data recovered led to new assertions about the chronology and history of the site (Kembel 2001, 2008; Kembel and Rick 2004; Rick et al.1998). Beginning in 2001, field seasons have placed increasing emphasis on research outside of the ceremonial core. John Wolf directed much of the initial work in the area to the east of the Mosna River in the sector known as La Banda (Figure 1). While this region was not the focus of early field projects, John Rowe (1963) postulated that La Banda may have contained Chavín period settlements. Burger’s (1984) limited excavations in the sector did not reveal any significant Chavín Period domestic settlements. Burger’s work appeared to support the idea that the ancient domestic settlements were concentrated under the modern town of Chavín. Initial field survey in La Banda by the Stanford Project did not reveal the presence of significant Chavín era domestic occupations there. 341 - Current Research the evidence to date suggests that the occupations were densely spread across the landscape. There does appear to be a strong tradition of building and rebuilding houses in this area, as evidenced by repeated building of floors with similar construction patterns. Figure 1: Site sectors of Chavín de Huántar (photo after Contreras 2008: Figure 1.4). It now appears that over the last three millennia this portion of the valley bottom has been subject to several large landslides (Contreras 2008:6; Turner et al. 1999:47-56). These massive earth movements covered Initial Period/Early Horizon settlements. In 2003, work began on a major road project that inadvertently uncovered domestic settlements predominantly dating to the Black and White Stage (850-550 BC) of monumental Chavín (Rick 2008:11). Additionally, the road building exposed a Middle Horizon tomb complex. The possible destruction of these precolumbian settlements led to the filing of a formal protest against the construction company by the Peruvian National Institute of Culture (INC) and a rescue archaeology project that began to document these important finds (Sayre 2004). Excavations in La Banda led by John Wolf, John Rick, and local members of the INC during 2003 uncovered many domestic units with numerous occupations dating to the Black and White Stage. The extent of these dwellings and associated patios needs further clarification, but The La Banda structures exhibit a standardized construction technique that reflects the thoroughness evident in other areas of construction at Chavín. The La Banda sector is of primary importance because the population that dwelt within its structures was most likely responsible for the construction and/or upkeep of the monumental center. The results of the 2005 season confirm that the residents of this area were at least partially responsible for the production of goods for the ceremonial center. While the exact nature of local production is still open to debate, the horizontal spread of the neighborhoods around La Banda allows for the diversity of production and trade in this period. The data presented in this report were recovered during excavations. Recovery was enhanced by systematic screening of soils. Figure 2: Ceremonial center of Chavín and La Banda excavation area (arrow points to excavation grids). The area of La Banda (Figure 2) described in this report has been dated with six AMS wood charcoal samples, processed by Beta Analytic. All of them fell between 810-470 BC calibrated ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) (2 sigmas) with an error range of 40 years. The ceramics associated with these settlements are stylistically part of the Janabarriu ceramic tradition. Marine Shell at Chavín Iconographic research on Chavín’s stone art has emphasized the importance of lowland plants, sacred plants, and animals in the site’s wide array of exotic imagery (Burger 1995:153; Lathrap 1973; Roe 1974). In addition to these images, there are several repeated motifs of marine shells as objects of ceremonial value. These shell taxa have been found throughout the excavations at the site, both within and outside the ceremonial core. The best documented case of recovered shell artifacts is that of the Caracoles Gallery. This gallery contained numerous, elaborately decorated shell trumpets (pututus or huayllaquepas) made from Strombus (Burger 1995: 135; Lumbreras 1989:158-161; Rick 2008:25-26; see Falcón, this volume, for a discussion of the shell trumpet found at the Formative site of Punkurí). These artifacts were offerings, but there was no evidence of shells in production. The pututus are completed pieces. The varied sectors of the site where foreign goods were found indicate differential practices at the site. Shell artifacts are not uniformly distributed across the site, and to date no shell artifacts were excavated in the Wacheqsa sector (Mesia 2007:137) which did contain dense concentrations of other artifacts, and is close to the monumental center. The area of La Banda, further from the monumental center, and across the river, was excavated in 2005, and contained evidence regarding ceremonial goods production and use. Faunal material that may have been used as priestly regalia was also recovered in La Banda. The diversity and large number of marine shells found in the La Banda production area indicate the settle- - 342 ment’s regional importance as a manufacturing center. It is well established that many marine species are ecological indicators and some marine molluscs can only survive in distinct climatic regimes (Claassen 1998). The classic example in Andean archaeology of a mollusc subject to these ecological constraints is Spondylus which live in warm water like that off of the coast of Ecuador. There are other species of marine molluscs that survive only in particular climates. The clearest constraint on the viability of many Pacific species is the havoc that El Niño Southern Oscillation (ENSO) events can cause. Two of the most common species found at coastal sites that are used to establish the changing frequencies of El Niño events in antiquity are Mesodesma donacium and Choromytilus chorus. These species are not able to survive the warm waters that come with ENSO events. These taxa were readily accessible shoreline animals that formed a regular portion of the central Peruvian coastal diet, and were generally the most common component of shell middens between 3850 and 850 BC (Sandweiss et al. 2001). Choromytilus chorus may have been a species of ceremonial importance before the widespread use of Spondylus sp. in Andean rituals (Sandweiss 1996). As Sandweiss et al. (2001) explain, there is evidence that there was greater variation in ENSO events between 1250 and 850 B.C. By 850 B.C. ENSO events became more frequent, and the microclimate suitable for Choromytilus chorus was thereby restricted. This means that they would have been more difficult to gather on the central coast of Peru, because they would have only been able to survive further south, beyond what is now Casma, at that point in time. 343 Choromytilus chorus Current Research 55 Perumytilus purpuratus 7 Aulacomya ater 3 Argopecten purpuratus 5 Eurhomalea rufa 2 Oliva peruviana 2 Donax obeselus 4 Natica sp. 1 Mesodesma donacium 1 Spondylus princeps 1 sea snail cf. Thais sp. 3 unidentified 2 Thais chocolate 1 Tegula atra 1 TOTAL 88 Table 1: Marine shell species identified. In addition there were 23 specimens of Scutalus sp., a land snail. Table 1 depicts the relative proportions of individual marine species recovered during the excavations. The species were identified by Natali López Aldave and were confirmed using standard references (Alamo and Valdivieso 1997; Osorio and Piwonka 2002). Choromytilus chorus, n=55 out of 88, is by far the dominant species in the assemblage. While the other environmentally sensitive species mentioned in this report (Mesodesma donacium) was rare in the La Banda assemblage, n=1, its presence must still be noted. These species not only provide direct evidence of trade, but also are indicative of broader environmental conditions. The samples recovered (see Figure 3 for a representative image) from the La Banda excavations confirm that the most likely coastal source of these shells at the time of La Banda’s existence (-850-500 B.C.), is between 7-9° south latitude, the central coast of what is now Peru. Figure 3: Worked marine shells (Argopecten purpuratus) from excavation unit K-13. Scales in one centimeter intervals. This coastal region was still less prone to El Niño events at the time of La Banda’s initial construction and these shells would not have been common on the central coast after 850 B.C., although: “M. donacium and C. Chorus remained minimally present in the Casma Valley past 2.8ka” (Sandwiss et al. 2001:604). Thus, these shells may have initially come from a coastal source due west of Chavín, but if they were transported to Chavín at a slightly later phase, their most likely source would have been regions to the south. The evidence presented here reveals that the distinct mollusc species found in La Banda were gathered from different portions of the Pacific coast of South America. After being transported to Chavín they were differentially processed and deposited across the site. This report builds on previous work (Pozorski 1979; Pozorski and Pozorski 1987; Sandweiss et al. 2001) that illustrated the potential of malacological material to elucidate patterns of climatic variation in the past. The analysis presented here indicates that Chavín established early trade connections with coastal peoples and engaged in the long-distance exchange of ecologically sensitive molluscs. These remains reveal more than ancient trade routes or clima- ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) tic patterns, however. Their presence in circumscribed areas of the site means that only certain participants or craftspeople had access to these goods and inhabitants of other regions of the site may not have been permitted to work with these materials. REFERENCES CITED Alamo Vásquez, Víctor and Violeta Valdivieso Milla 1997 Lista sistemática de moluscos marinos del Perú. Second edition. Callao, Perú: Instituto del Mar del Perú. Burger, Richard L. 1984 The Prehistoric Occupation of Chavín de Huántar, Perú. University of California Publications in Anthropology 14. Berkeley: University of California Press. 1995 Chavin and the Origins of Andean Civilization. Second Edition. London and New York: Thames and Hudson. Claassen, Cheryl 1998 Shells. Cambridge Manuals in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Contreras, Daniel 2008 Sociopolitical and Geomorphological Dynamics at Chavín de Huántar, Peru. Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California. Falcón, Víctor 2009 Reconstruction of the Burial Offering at Punkurí in the Nepeña Valley of Peru’s North-central Coast. Andean Past 9:109-129. Kembel, Silvia 2001 Architectural Sequence and Chronology at Chávin de Huántar, Peru. Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California. 2008 The Architecture at the Monumental Center of Chavín de Huántar: Sequence, Transformations, and Chronology. In Chavín: Art, Architecture and Culture, edited by William J. Conklin and Jeffrey Quilter, pp. 35-81. Monograph 61. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Kembel, Silvia and John Rick 2004 Building Authority at Chavín de Huántar: Models of Social Organization and Development in the Initial Period and Early Horizon. In Andean Archaeology, edited by Helaine Silverman, pp. 51-76. Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishing. Lathrap, Donald 1973 Gifts of the Cayman: Some Thoughts on the Subsistence Basis of Chavin. In Variation in - 344 Anthropology: Essays in Honor of John McGregor, edited by Donald Lathrap and Jody Douglas, pp. 91-105. Urbana, Illinois: Illinois Archaeological Survey. Lumbreras, Luis 1974 The People and the Cultures of Ancient Peru. Translated by Betty J. Meggers. Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. 1989 Chavín de Huántar en el nacimiento de la civilización andina. Lima: INDEA. Mesia, Christian 2007 Intrasite Spatial Organization at Chavín de Huántar in the Andean Formative: Three Dimensional Modeling, Stratigraphy and Ceramics. Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California. Osorio, Claudia and Nicolás Piwonka 2002 Moluscos marinos en Chile: Especies de importancia económica, Guía para su identificación. Santiago de Chile: Facultad de Ciencias, Universidad de Chile. Pozorski, Shelia 1979 Prehistoric Diet and Subsistence of the Moche Valley, Peru. World Archaeology 11:163-184. Pozorski, Shelia and Thomas Pozorski 1987 Early Settlement and Subsistence in the Casma Valley, Peru. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. Pulgar Vidal, Javier 1972 Geografía del Perú: Las ocho regiones naturales del Perú. Lima: Editorial Universo, S.A. Rick, John 2008 Context, Construction, and Ritual in the Development of Authority at Chavín de Huántar. In Chavín: Art, Architecture, and Culture, edited by William J. Conklin and Jeffrey Quilter, pp. 3-34. Monograph 61. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Rick, John, Silvia Kembel, Rosa Rick, and John Kembel 1998 La arquitectura del complejo ceremonial de Chavín de Huántar: Documentación tridimensional y sus implicancias. In Perspectivas Regionales del Período Formativo en el Perú, edited by Peter Kaulicke, pp. 181-214. Lima: Fondo Editorial, PUCP. Roe, Peter 1974 A Further Exploration of the Rowe Chavín Seriation and Its Implication for North Central Coast Chronology. Studies in Pre-Columbian Art and Archaeology 13. Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collections. Rowe, John H. 1963 Urban Settlements in Ancient Peru. Ñawpa Pacha 1:1-27. 345 Sandweiss, Daniel H. 1996 Environmental Change and its Consequences for Human Society on the Central Andean Coast: A Malecological Perspective. In Case Studies in Environmental Archaeology, edited by Elizabeth J. Reitz, Lee Newsom, and Sylvia Scudder, pp. 127146. New York: Plenum Publishing. Sandweiss, Daniel H., Kurt A. Maasch, Richard L. Burger, James B. Richardson, III, Harold B. Rollins, and Amy Clement 2001 Variation in Holocene El Niño Frequencies: Climate Records and Cultural Consequences in Ancient Peru. Geology 29(7):603-606. Sayre, Matthew 2004 The Domestic at Chavín de Huántar? Paper presented at the 69th Annual Meeting of the Society for American Archaeology, Montreal, Canada. Current Research Tello, Julio C. 1942 Origen y desarrollo de las civilizaciones prehistóricas peruanas. Lima: Libreria e imprenta Gil. 1960 Chavín: Cultura matriz de la civilización andina, primera parte. Lima, Peru: Imprenta de la Universidad de San Marcos. Turner, R. J. W., B.J. Knight, and J. Rick 1999 The Geological Landscape of the Pre-Inca Archaeological Site at Chavín de Huántar, Peru. In Current Research, 1999-D, Geological Survey of Canada, pp. 47-56. ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) La Fortaleza at Ollantaytambo J. Lee Hollowell (email: holloxyz@aol.com) reports on his long-term analysis of portals and other construction elements of the Fortaleza at Ollantaytambo. The Fortaleza at Ollantaytambo is among the most sophisticated precolumbian stone structures in the western hemisphere. Ollantaytambo and its Fortaleza are in the Sacred Valley of the Incas, southeastern Peru. The Fortaleza is a very complex part of the site whose architecture has still not been investigated in important respects (c.f. Bengtsson 1998; Gasparini and Margolies 1980: 71, figures 52, 60; Hemming 1982:103-111; Paternosto 1996:137-151; Protzen 1993:73-94, 241260; Squier 1877:498-501; Ubbelohde-Doering 1967:251-254, figures 268, 274, 275). Crowning the Fortaleza is a massive unfinished platform, the Templo del Sol (Temple of the Sun). This report examines one of the many intriguing problems presented by La Fortaleza. I focus on what I term Block 21 (Figures 1-3, 5), which Protzen designates Block 16 (c.f. Protzen 1993: figure 3.8). It is sometimes called El Trono, or the Throne because it looks to some as if it may have provided a seat. Figure 1: El Trono at Ollantaytambo. - 346 Scattered about at the Fortaleza are architectural elements from at least ten separate portals which I call “missing portals”. Two of these are of monumental size. Two others are from walls apparently important enough to have been designed to be seen from both sides. Only one of these portals remains standing, the Puerta Principal (Main Portal; called the “Unfinished Gate” by Protzen [1993]: figure 14.15) in the Wall of 10 Niches, and that only in partial reconstruction (Figure 4; UbbelohdeDoering 1967: figure 272). Figure 2: Lithons at the Templo del Sol. It is remarkable that in spite of the precision fit of many vertical fillet stones, the Templo del Sol lacks a formal foundation (vidi; UbbelohdeDoering 1967: figures 274-275). Two of its lithons, or massive upright stones, numbers 15 and 16 (Figures 2, 3), have shifted forward some 4 cm from the top during the 25 years I have been studying the site. This is because of a poorly-made, rubble foundation. This rubble support includes a greenstone (secondary andesite) block salvaged from a building which I postulate was constructed elsewhere. Careful inspection reveals that the Templo del Sol is actually a construction made from blocks salvaged from a different, and probably nearby, sector of Ollantaytambo. Originally, the lithons must have had a formal foundation. Note the straight line formed by the bases of lithons 347 15, 16, 18, 19, and 20. Note also the extension of the base of lithon 17, which extends a meter below ground level (Figure 3; Bengtsson 1998: 98, photo; Ubbelohde-Doering 1967: figures 274-275). Block 47, nearby, is probably the corner stone and would fit into the space as indicated in Figure 3, below lithon 20. Block 47 is now upside down, but when it was in its original position it had both a requisite 90º angle, and the 7º talud, or batter, typical of Inca fine masonry. Current Research in Andean Archaeology atop the Fortaleza as in Figure 3 (Hemming 1982:109; Paternosto 1996:138-39, Plate 80; Ubbelohde-Doering 1967:252). At the right end of the Templo del Sol from the viewer’s perspective as (s)he faces lithons 1520 is Block 21, El Trono (Figures 1-3; Gasparini and Margolies 1980: figure 60; Paternostor 1996: plates 79, 82; Squier 1877:500). On careful inspection it is apparent that this was not a ceremonial seat. Two rectangular jetas or protuberances are at the top of this stone as it now rests (Figure 5). This facet of the stone is, in fact, the intended front face of the block. The block is now lying on its back on a recent, flat stone and rubble foundation. Figure 3: A proposed reconstruction of the Fortaleza as a rectangular ushnu based on the possible fit of known ashlars. The Templo del Sol, as and where originally built, was probably an ushnu, a classic Inca, rectangular, stone-walled, ceremonial platform, perhaps similar to the well known one at Huánuco Pampa. There are extant blocks at the Templo del Sol that may have formed this ushnu (Figure 3). Shown in Figure 3 is an extra fillet block (Block 100) which is no longer present at the Templo del Sol, having been salvaged for use as a lintel in a local restaurant. This block would fit into the original temple’s probable overall motif of vertical lithons, each separated by three or four vertical fillet stones. This motif was intended to encompass the entire construction. Note the three top blocks (Figure 3, above Blocks 18, 19, and 20). Though now displaced to the ground at the front of the structure, a sketch made in 1842 by Johann Moritz Rugendas, shows them still in position Figure 4: Puerta Principal (Main Portal) in the Wall of 10 Niches. Block 21’s original orientation is confirmed when it is viewed from one of its ends. The lift hole, a common device for levering blocks, is always on the bottom once the block is in its final position, but as it stands now this hole is on one of the vertical sides (Figure 5). Furthermore, most fine Inca walls have a talud for stability. When in its original position, the interior angle between the intended bottom edge and the intended front edge is 83°, while that between the intended top edge and the front edge is 97°, just what would be expected for the talud, if this surface with jetas, was, in fact, the front of a typical wall block. Note the ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) inset and the step or seat (Figures 1, 3). El Trono then, is not a throne, but rather, the sill of a monumental double-jambed portal with a central step, seemingly designed for people to pass through in single file. This portal is unusual because it is the only one known with a double inset sill. It is also the only sill known to survive at the Fortaleza.1 Block 21 is not indicated in the 1842 sketch. Its original location is unknown. - 348 Applying these calculations to El Trono, I have calculated the original dimensions of the portal which contained it as a sill and compared the reconstructed portal’s size with the lithons of the Templo del Sol. If on a proper foundation, the lithons would stand about 5 m high. The El Trono portal would have been substantially taller, standing at about 6.6 m. The El Trono portal may not originally have been part of the Templo del Sol, although its stone, a porphyritic dacite, is identical to those of the lithons. Where could such a huge portal have been employed? It could not have been accommodated on the present Templo del Sol terrace because there is insufficient space, no apparent plan into which it would fit, no apparent purpose, and no fitting marks for it on that terrace. Figure 5: Block 21, end view. What would a portal using Block 21 have looked like? To aid in reconstruction I have noted the proportions of 18 typical doublejambed Inca portals from various sites. I have calculated the ratios for width at top to width at base, and of height to width at base, noted the angles formed within the trapezoids of the portals’ interiors, and then calculated the standard deviations (Figure 6). The small standard deviations of these proportions suggests the high level of accuracy with which Inca masons adhered to standards when constructing portals. 1 The mismatched block serving as a sill under the Puerta Principal is not wide enough to fit the jambs. It is probably a wall block salvaged for the reconstruction of this portal. Behind this “sill” is a second mismatched block. Figure 6: Reconstructed Puerto Principal of Ollantaytambo ushu based on extent components. 349 How could the El Trono portal have been incorporated into an original Templo del Sol ushnu? There is a clue in the Puerta Principal. This portal is a reconstruction made of jambs from at least two different earlier portals. Careful inspection reveals that the top two jambs do not match the bottom two. Viewed from the front, both sets of jambs have jetas. However, viewed from the rear, only the top two jambs have jetas. These two top jambs were made for a wall important enough to be designed to be seen from both sides. In contrast, the rears of the bottom two jambs have vertical “ears” instead of jetas. Figure 7 shows the “ear” on the left-hand jamb (viewer’s perspective Figure 7). These ears are unique at Ollantaytambo, and seem designed to connect with a passage or stairway wall. Such a stairway portal design can be found at the Vilcashuaman ushnu. Here a monumental double-jambed portal is connected to a walled stairway. Perhaps the original Templo del Sol at Ollantaytambo was similarly designed as an ushnu with a stairway, thus incorporating a massive, El Trono-sized portal. Because only jambs, and no lintel or sill, exist for the Puerta Principal, no entirely reliable reconstruction can yet be made for this portal. Figure 7: Back of Puerta Principal showing an “ear” on the lower left jamb stone (viewer’s perspective). Current Research in Andean Archaeology The former existence of a second monumental portal is indicated by a pair of huge jamb blocks. Though not of the double jamb, inset type, the extant blocks from this portal today mark a critical location, the entrance to Ollantaytambo’s parroquia or rectory (Figure 8). The original lintel, and possibly two additional jamb blocks, are missing. Its sill, if one exists, seems buried at an unknown depth. It is not known whether the portal blocks are in their original location. However, two facts suggest that they are. First, they form an integral part of the 300 m wall in the Pampawasi section of Ollantaytambo. Recent excavations by Padre César Cárdenas have revealed impressive sections of this major construction. An oblique view of these jambs shows that the jambs are tilted to the exterior, eliminating the expected talud to the interior. This may have been caused by pressure from a major avalanche down the Patacancha River, flowing from the back to the front of the blocks as seen in Figure 8. Two 100 ton river boulders are just behind the parroquia, at least eight meters above the river bed, clear evidence of a major avalanche. As with the top double-sided jambs of the Puerta Principal (Figure 4), a set of worked blocks in the Mañay Raqay Plaza (also spelled as Manyaraki or Maniaraki), three jambs and a lintel, are from a double-sided, double inset portal, Portal M2 (see Hollowell 1987:70, figure 116 for terminology), obviously designed for a wall to be seen from both sides. Where was this double portal originally placed? A third orphan lintel for a single inset portal is on the slope northwest of the Fortaleza. The sole standing portal, in the Wall of Ten Niches, was also designed to be seen from both sides. So was a probable, long-destroyed, companion on the north end of the Wall of Ten Niches. What are the implications for the Templo del Sol, not only of the huge El Trono portal, ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) which would have stood higher than the remaining walls of the Templo del Sol, but also of the four double-jambed portals designed to be seen from both sides, and of the four other, remnant portals whose parts are from distinctly different and identifiable former portals? The original construction complex, as planned, would have had to have been substantial to accommodate these nine portals and accompanying walls. They surely would not all have fit on the present Templo del Sol terrace. There is neither enough room, nor any evidence that the construction would have been there originally. Where, then, is there a sufficiently large location? It has to be to the northeast, in the Pachacancha Valley. The probable site is under the Mañay Raqay Plaza and under the Church of Santiago Apóstol. One piece of evidence supporting this supposition is the anomalous location of the church, begun in 1620. Instead of being on the Plaza de Armas, or central square, as in most other Spanish towns, it is across the river, near the Fortaleza, in the archaeological zone. The prominent sixteenth century colonial cleric, José de Acosta, provides a rationale for such a siting. Quoting papal letters, he argued that it was beneficial to construct churches on the locations of non-Christian houses of worship so that the Indians could render homage to God in the places where they had been accustomed to pray (Acosta 1954 [1590]:502). Extant examples from the Andes prove that this advice was sometimes followed (Barnes 2002:283 and references therein). Perhaps the most famous is Cusco’s church of Santo Domingo, which incorporates the Inca shrine of Coricancha. The Quechua term, Mañay Raqay, the name for the plaza to the immediate north of the Ollantaytambo church, has been translated as “hall of petitions” (Squier 1877:503). This concept emphasizes the probable ceremonial importance of the area and what may lie under it. - 350 It seems likely that whatever remnants of an original ushnu still exist lie under the Mañay Raqay and church sites. The ushnu had most probably been demolished and buried by one or more massive avalanches like the one which occurred in the 1860s (ibid.: 493-494). However, the possibility of deliberate destruction by Spanish authorities cannot be eliminated at this time. Ushnu were recognized and demolished when possible (c.f. Albornoz 1990 [1569-1604]:265-268, 274-276). In any event, I suggest that “El Trono” is the only surviving sill of this ushnu at Ollantaytambo. Otherwise, only lintels and jambs have survived. This is further evidence of burial by an avalanche, because one would expect to encounter such sills had they not been buried. Further evidence includes the presence of orphan joints and tumble damage, as well the absence of blocks that logically should be present. Future research should include a ground penetrating radar survey of the Mañay Raqay and church. Figure 8: Entrance to the parroquia, Ollantaytambo. A longer version of this paper “Missing Portals, their Reconstruction via Statistics and the Implications for the Fortaleza, Ollantaytambo” was presented at the 48th Institute of Andean Studies conference, University of California at Berkeley, 11 January 2008. 351 REFERENCES CITED Acosta, José de 1954 [1590] De procuranda Indorum salute. In Obras del P. José de Acosta, pp. 387-608, edited by P. Francisco Mateos. Biblioteca de Autores Españoles (cont.) 73. Atlas: Madrid. Albornoz, Cristóbal de 1990 [1569-1604] Informaciones de Cristóbal de Albornoz. In El retorno de las huacas: Estudios y documentos del Siglo XVI, edited by Luis Millones, pp. 43-308. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos and Sociedad Peruana de Psicoanálisis. Barnes, Monica 2002 Recycling of Ancient Building Material in the Spanish Andes. In The Archaeology of Contact: Processes & Consequences: Proceedings of the Twenty-Fifth Annual Conference of the Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary, edited by Kurtis Lesick, Barbara Kulle, Christine Cluney, and Meaghan PeuramakiBrown, pp. 280-286. Calgary, Alberta, Canada: The Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary. Bengtsson, Lisbet 1998 Prehistoric Stonework in the Peruvian Andes: A Case Study at Ollantaytambo. Gotarc Series B, Number 10/Etnologiska Studier 44. Gothenburg, Sweden: Gothenburg University Department of Archaeology and Etnografiska Museet. Brown, David M., editor 1992 Incas: Lords of Gold and Glory. Time-Life Books, Alexandria, Virginia. Gasparini,Graziano and Luise Margolies 1980 Inca Architecture. Translated by Patricia J. Lyon. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press. Current Research in Andean Archaeology Hemming, John 1982 Monuments of the Incas. Photographs by Edward Ranney. New York Graphic Society and Boston, Massachusetts: Little, Brown. Hollowell, J. Lee 1987 Re-assessment of the Fortaleza at Ollantaytambo, Peru. National Geographic Society Report 2832-84. (Available in the NGS Archives; Widener Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts; and Dumbarton Oaks Library and Collections, Washington, DC.) 1989 Re-assessment of the Fortaleza. Willay 32/33:3-7. Paternosto, César 1996 The Stone & the Thread: Andean Roots of Abstract Art. Translated by Esther Allen. Austin: University of Texas Press. Protzen, Jean-Pierre 1993 Inca Architecture and Construction at Ollantaytambo. Drawings by Robert Batson. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Squier, E. George 1877 Peru: Incidents of Travel and Exploration in the Land of the Incas. New York: Harper & Brothers, Publishers. Ubbelohde-Doering, Heinrich 1967 On the Royal Highways of the Inca: Archaeological Treasures of Ancient Peru. Translated by Margaret Brown. New York and Washington, D.C: Frederick A. Praeger. 353 - Addresses of Authors ADDRESSES OF AUTHORS Rolena Adorno: Department of Spanish and Portuguese, Yale University, P.O. Box 208204, New Haven, Connecticut 06520-8204 rolena.adorno@yale.edu Monica Barnes: 377 Rector Place, 3C, New York, New York 10280 monica@andeanpast.org Jonathan D. Bethard: Department of Anthropology, University of Tennessee, 250 South Stadium Hall, 1216 Phillip Fulmer Way, Knoxville, Tennessee 37996-0720 bethard@utk.edu David Block: Benson Latin American Collection, Sid Richardson Hall, University of Texas, Austin, Texas 78713 db10@austin.utexas.edu Richard Busch: Denver Museum of Nature and Science, 2001 Colorado Boulevard Denver, Colorado 80205 Richard.Busch@dmns.org Karen Olsen Bruhns: 1243 Henry Street, Berkeley, California 94709 kbruhns@sfsu.edu Victoria Castro: Las Perdices 575, La Reina, Santiago de Chile vcastrorojas@hotmail.com Richard Daggett: 10B Boynton Road, South Deerfield, Massachusetts 01373-9786 rdaggett@library.umass.edu Catherine Gaither: Department of Sociology, Anthropology and Behavioral Science., P.O. Box 173362, Campus Box 28, Metropolitan State College of Denver, Denver, Colorado 80217-3362 gaither@mscd.edu Inge Maria Harman: 11616 Flints Grove Lane, North Potomac, Maryland 20878 ingeharman@gmail.com Víctor Falcón Huayta: Sub-Dirección de Investigación y Catastro Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Javier Prado Este No 2465, San Borja, Lima 14, Perú vic1falcon@hotmail.com Grace Katterman: 116 Old Ina Road, Tucson, Arizona 85794 gkatt@hotmail.com Jonathan Kent: Department of Sociology, Anthropology, and Behavioral Science, P.O. Box 173362, Campus Box 28, Metropolitan State College of Denver, Denver, Colorado 80217-3362 kentj@mscd.edu ANDEAN PAST 9 (2009) - 354 Heather Lechtman: Laboratory for Research on Archaeological Materials, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 77 Massachusetts Avenue, Room 8-437,Cambridge, Massachusetts 02139 Lechtman@MIT.EDU Gregory D. Lockard: Compañía Operadora de LNG del Perú S.A.C., Av. Víctor Andrés Belaúnde 147, Vía Real 185,Torre Real Doce, Piso 2, San Isidro, Lima 27 Perú gdlockard@yahoo.com Ana María Lorandi: Entre Ríos 966, 2º Piso, Dpto. E, 1080 C.A. de Buenos Aires, Argentina alorandi_2000@yahoo.com.ar Michael E. Moseley: University of Florida, Department of Anthropology Gainesville, Florida 32611-7305 michaele.moseley@gmail.com Patricia Netherly: 5025 Hillsboro Pike, Apartment 12-H, Nashville, Tennessee 37215 netherly@hotmail.com Ana Nieves: Art Department, Northeastern Illinois University, 5500 North St. Louis Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60625-4699 a-nieves2@neiu.edu Charles R. Ortloff: CFD Consultants International, Ltd., 18310 Southview Avenue, Suite 2 Los Gatos, California 95033-8537 Ortloff5@aol.com Silvia Palomeque: Caseros 2544, Barrio Alto Alberdi, CP 5003 Córdoba, Argentina Víctor M. Ponte Rosalino: Sabin Hall, P.O. Box 413, Milwaukee, Wisconsin 53201-0413 vmponte@uwm.edu Teresa Rosales Tham: ARQUEOBIOS, Aptdo. Postal 595, Trujillo, Perú teresa1905@hotmail.com Frank Salomon: Department of Anthropology, University of Wisconsin, Madison 5240 Social Sciences Building, 1180 Observatory Drive, Madison, Wisconsin 53706 fsalomon@wisc.edu Víctor Vásquez Sánchez: ARQUEOBIOS, Aptdo. Postal 595, Trujillo, Perú vivasa2401@yahoo.com Gordon R. Willey: died 28 April 2002 Freda Wolf de Romero: Calle El Carmelo 106, depto. 102, Monterrico - Surco, Lima 33, Peru fredawolf@gmail.com 355 - Advice to Contributors ADVICE TO CONTRIBUTORS TO ANDEAN PAST 1. Andean Past seeks original, unpublished articles on Andean archaeology and ethnohistory. Papers submitted to Andean Past should not be under consideration elsewhere. Publication on the Internet, including self-publication, will preclude subsequent publication in Andean Past. Ethnohistorical articles must lead to an enhanced understanding of prehispanic times. Well-illustrated papers presenting new data or interpretations are particularly welcome. 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