How the Indigenous saw themselves after the conquest

Chapultepec Castle is one of my favorite places and I was delighted to hear it would host the exhibit titled "Compared Views in the Viceroyalties of America, Mexico and Peru" (Visiones comparadas en los virreinatos de America.  Mexico y Peru).  Though scheduled through October 7, there is good reason to visit it today or tomorrow.  The most fragile pieces will not be on display for the duration of the exhibit. This touring exhibit, curated by Ilona Katzew, opened in 2011 at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art as "Contested Visions in the Spanish Colonial World".  

Though its name changed when it moved to Mexico City the exhibit is essentially the same, bringing together 170 items from collections in Peru, Chile, Spain, France, United States, and Mexico

In naming the exhibit, Los Angeles referred to Spanish colonial rule, Mexico uses the more correct reference to viceroyalty government in which, from a legal standpoint, New Spain and Peru were integral parts of Spain. 

At the exhibit I serendipitously encountered Salvador Rueda Smithers, Director of Chapultepec Castle’s National History Museum.  He told me “calling the exhibit 'Contested Visions' in Spanish would not have honored the purpose of the exhibit.  Compared Views encompasses finding opposing ideas as well as similarities inspired and compared through Indigenous eyes.  The exhibit focuses on the Indigenous as they saw themselves -- not as Criollos or Mestizos saw them.  This exhibit is basically the seed of ethnography… art and ethnography at a moment in time before they separated."

Through art, "Compared Views" gives us insights into the way Spain imposed itself on two powerful short-lived empires, Inca and Aztec, which, though unlinked, perhaps even unknown to the other, existed for less than two centuries prior to Spanish conquest.  

It is mainly through oil paintings on canvas or magnificent screens (biombos) that we are drawn into the rigid caste system of both cultures.  Paintings document the machinations families of influence undertook to preserve privilege.  Elaborately painted genealogies trace Indigenous ancestry in efforts to conserve property rights and to recall agreements and promises made by the conquerors.  Text on the paintings includes Indigenous names written in the Spanish style using first and second surnames.

This exhibit does not deal with the horrors of the conquest, smallpox, starvation, and slavery.  It is an exhibit of the view of survivors, mostly those of privilege who successfully adapted to the new order.  A particular 1734 portrait sticks in my mind.  Juana María Cortés Chimalpopoca is shown wearing an elegant huipil, taking vows in Mexico's Corpus Christi convent established ten years earlier for noble Indians or "Cacicas" (female Caciques).  Juana is portrayed alongside the shield of nobility awarded by Phillip II to Antonio Cortés Totoquihuaztli, governor of Tacuba (1550-1574).  Juana's father, José, thus documented his claim as a descendent of a prehispanic governor of Tacuba through the portrait of his daughter's entry into a convent for Indigenous nobles.

Interspersed in the exhibit are pieces of prehispanic art from Peru and Mexico -- three are special treats. On the back wall of the exhibit's first room is a Chimalli, an Aztec shield, decorated with feathers.  Along with Moctezuma's headdress Hernan Cortez sent it to his sovereign, Charles I, who marveled over how "brilliantly the use of feathers replaced that of the brush."  Emperor Maximilian returned the Chimalli to Mexico in 1864.  According to Professor Rueda, Maximilian wished to bring the headdress back as well but his brother Emperor Franz Joseph refused permission. 

If you go left from the Chimalli around the other side of the display case two dimly lit cases form a corner.  One contains a marvelous cotton Xicolli (ritual vestment), the other a mask covered with bark paper -- the only prehispanic bark paper other than in a codex that is still conserved.  Professor Rueda exclaimed, "I had never seen these before!  They have never been exhibited and they'll only be on display during the exhibit's first two weeks."  Hence my suggestion you drop what you're doing and visit the exhibit quickly.

About the mask, Professor Rueda went on to say, "I imagine the priest wearing a sacrificed person's skin, hands covered in blood, the mask over his face, thorns in his bleeding ears, holding in his hands the bloody heart of a still living sacrifice.  Though refined in many ways, the Aztecs were very cruel.  The demand for blood was high; this is a chilling piece."   

The Xicolli, with a black and white repetitive design of circles and squares, according to Professor Rueda, "is the only prehispanic textile design known to survive to our time.  We knew the varied designs from codices but had never seen a real one until this was found.  You can see the precision in the design, the importance of their geometry.  We realize it expresses something not yet understood about their technology, about prehispanic Mexican thinking…  Though we may not know how they thought, we do know their designs were done with great exactitude, geometrically perfect and with proportion.”

I hope you’re lucky enough to run into Professor Rueda on your visit.  Either way I’m sure you’ll be glad you went.  

Mexico’s original organic dye

Mexico is the second largest producer of silver in the world. For several centuries it was number one. The Spanish empire thrived on wealth created by silver bullion exported through Veracruz to Seville. From there it spread throughout Spain creating tremendous inflation before settling into the pockets of German and Dutch bankers. But silver wasn’t Mexico’s only valuable export.

I frequently ask members of the groups who travel with me if they can identify the second most important source of wealth extracted from Mexico by the Viceroyalty of New Spain. Rarely does anyone have the correct answer. I usually ask this question at Teotihuacan just before entering the Quetzalcoatl Quadrangle. This is not because the answer had a particular relationship to that place. It’s because I know we’ll soon encounter one of the Castro brothers who will show us a sampling of that second most important source of wealth for Spain. The Castros, as their late father before them, sell postcards – ten postcards in a white envelope for sixty pesos.

The Castro brothers have one of the most marvelous marketing schemes I’ve ever seen. Using a stick and a nopal cactus leaf infested with white clusters of insects and eggs, the Castros carefully scrape off a cluster, squishing it on the envelope containing postcards. It instantly changes to crimson red. Using the same small stick they gather sap from the leaf, cover the red, sealing the color onto the envelope. Even if you rub your finger over the color it won’t come off. I urge members of my group “Buy a packet of postcards, send them to your friends but keep the envelope. Put it away in your desk drawer. Pull it out ten years from now and it will be just as red as it is today.”

The Castros use a fast-track process. The proper way to harvest cochineal is to go through a nopal cactus orchard with a whisk broom and gourd, collect female insects, kill them by immersion in hot water and put them in the sun to dry. When dry they resemble tiny dark red, almost black, pellets. Ground on a metate, they become a fine red powder. Added to a vat of boiling water it becomes dye. The longer cloth is left in the water, the redder it will be, and once dry will not fade. To imagine the color, think of British red-coat soldiers. That red was created by cochineal dye. The bright red permanent dye enthralled Europeans, most had no idea the treasured dye was insects.

Sent west from Acapulco to Asia, cochineal pellets were sold in Manila – not in the market – but in jewelry stores for a set price known to all. A common language was unnecessary. Customers merely pointed to glass containers of dark, tiny, pellets, indicating to the jeweler how much was wanted by putting that much gold on the jeweler’s scale. In Manila, dried cochineal sold for equal its weight in gold!

Though never as expensive in Europe, cochineal was consumed by the wealthy with prices quoted on the London and Amsterdam Commodity Exchanges. Realizing the value of the dye, Spain put an embargo on the export of any live insects from Mexico or the colonies. In 1777 a French botanist smuggled both insects and nopal cactus to a French Caribbean Island. Fortunately for Mexico’s monopoly the insects died. In 1788 The British also smuggled cochineal insects and cactus to Australia. These insects also died but the cactus thrived and ultimately overran 100,000 square miles of eastern Australia. The bottom fell out of the cochineal market in the 1860’s when a German chemist discovered how to artificially make the same-colored dye. With renewed interest in organic dyes, cochineal has made a recovery and is again in demand. Though I doubt cochineal will again compete with silver or gold, it is an interesting chapter in Mexico’s history.

Celebrate Sor Juana

Mexico is unusual in having portraits of poets and artists featured on its currency.  Literature Nobel laureate Octavio Paz (1914-1998) is on the twenty peso coin.  Nahuatl poet and ruler of Texcoco Netzahualcoyotl (1402-1472) is on the hundred peso bill.  Poet Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1648-1695) is on both versions of the two-hundred peso bill.  Artists Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera are on the five-hundred peso bill.    

Sor Juana's birthday is this Saturday, November 12th.  She may be a Valentine’s baby; particularly appropriate for a love-child.  Juana’s mother, criolla Isabel Ramírez, was born on the slopes of Popocatépetl and baptized in Yecapixtla in present-day Morelos.  Her first three children were born out of wedlock.  Juana Inés de Asbaje y Ramírez de Santillana is registered on her birth certificate as a “daughter of the Church,” a euphemism for the unmarried state of her parents.  The paternal figure in Juana's life was her highly literate maternal grandfather.  

Though an hacendado, Juana’s grandfather Pedro Ramírez de Santillana didn't own his two haciendas.  They were leased from the church for the span of three “lifetimes.”   This interesting arrangement was typical of the time.  Juana's mother inherited the contract for the second generation, Juana's sister Maria, the third.  It was a family of strong women and Juana was no exception.

Juana Inés was born in Nepantla, now in the state of Mexico, in 1648, though some say 1651. There she lived for three years before she and her family moved to Hacienda Panoayan, at a higher elevation and closer to both Popocatépetl and Iztlaccíhuatl.  

Unless they were cloud-covered, Juana saw those snow-capped peaks every day of her life.  The corridor running from Yecapixtla through Nepantla and Panoayan to the historical center of Mexico City was the extent of the area she lived and traveled during her 46 (or 43) years.  Yet even in her lifetime, her poems, plays, and prose permeated the Spanish-speaking world and have grown ever more appreciated through the following centuries. 

By all accounts Juana devoured knowledge from the earliest age.  Bilingual in Spanish and Nahuatl, she read by the age of 3.  She had access to her grandfather’s extensive, esoteric, and multi-lingual library allowing self-education in many academic subjects. Through the library Juana gained access to a world mostly unknown to women of that day.  At the precocious age of 8 she won a town prize for a surprisingly mature poem about the Eucharist.

Juana was soon sent to Mexico City to live with her aunt and uncle, Juan de Mata, a man of influence in the viceregal palace.  At 15 she was presented at court.  From ages 16 to 20 she lived at the palace as the personal companion to the vicereine and soon was well-known for both intellect and beauty.  When she was 17 the Viceroy Marquis de Mancera famously tested Juana’s learning and intelligence by inviting great minds from New Spain to examine her on theology as well as various scientific and literary subjects.  Her performance is legendary.  The viceroy celebrated the accomplishment by saying “she defended herself as a galleon against a slew of canoes.” 

Juana resisted pressure to marry.  At 19 she chose the other available option -- entering religious life.  Her first incursion was harsh and did not allow intellectual development.  She returned to the court and after some months a wealthy donor provided the required dowry for her to enter the more comfortable Order of San Jeronimo.  

San Jeronimo required seclusion but allowed visitors and in the case of Sor Juana, the continued pursuit of her intellectual activities.  Indeed, Sor Juana’s multi-storied “cell” with an extensive library, scientific and musical instruments was a sought after salon for discussion and learning -- the world came to Sor Juana.  Convents of that day enhanced the cultural lives of the aristocracy by providing theater, concerts, and schools.  Juana became known as the Tenth Muse.  Her life and work have made her a model for modern-day feminists. 

Sor Juana enjoyed protection and friendship of successive viceroys, one of whom was also archbishop.  The departure in 1686 of Viceroy Marquis de la Laguna and Vicereine Countess of Paredes led to Juana’s poetry and drama being published in Spain to enthusiastic reviews.   Unfortunately their exit also led to closer scrutiny of Sor Juana’s work by a misogynistic, jealous clergy and she became a target of the Inquisition. 

In 1693 Juana signed a penitential document in her own blood.  “Yo, la peor de todas.”  I, the worst of all.  Promising to no longer write, she allowed the church to sell her library of 4000 books and her musical and scientific instruments and requested proceeds be donated to charity.  Octavio Paz, among others speculates that instead of being an act of penitence this was the last act of an unrepentant, cornered intellect.  On April 17, 1695, after nursing her fellow nuns, Sor Juana died of the plague. 

Delve into your pocket for 200 peso bills.  Not for a donation but to see some views of Sor Juana’s life.  Both old and new bills have Miguel Cabrera’s portrait of the poet. Background to the portrait on both bills are books and writing materials, symbols of her literary life.  There are even five miniature lines of one of her most famous poems!  On the back of the new 200 peso bill is Hacienda Panoayan framed by her beloved Popocatépetl and Iztlaccíhuatl.  On the old bill is the Convent of San Jeronimo.  It is noteworthy that both bills use her secular name Juana de Asbaje.  Might that have been her preference?