Ancient West Mexico

in the Mesoamerican Ecumene

Eduardo Williams, PhD

The Petámuti (high priest) addressing the nobles at Tzintzuntzan, the Tarascan capital (after Relación de Michoacán, ca. 1540;
Alcalá 2008). Preliminary draft, not for citation; copyright © Eduardo Williams, 17 December 2019.
 ii

This book may look like a story about ruins and pyramids; about palaces, monuments,
stelae, and sculpture… It isn’t. It is about ordinary people like you or me, and what they
did, what they achieved, and what they believed…

Jaime Litvak King

Ancient Mexico: An Overview

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there...

L. P. Hartley

The Go-Between
 iii

This book presents a discussion of the culture history of ancient West Mexico from the
time of the first human inhabitants until the last cultural developments that took place
before the Spanish invasion in the 16th century. The overall narrative is played out
within the context of the Mesoamerican ecumene; that is, the universe of cultural and
social interactions that coalesced into one of the few pristine civilizations of the ancient
world.
The book presents a long-overdue synthesis and update of West Mexican
archaeology aimed at scholars, students and the general public. Ancient West Mexico in
the Mesoamerican Ecumene is the first book about West Mexican archaeology written
by a single author. Another unique feature of this book is that it follows a holistic
approach that includes data and perspectives from sociocultural anthropology,
ethnohistory, ethnoarchaeology, and general analogy with many ancient cultures within
the Mesoamerican ecumene and beyond (including several of the Old World). The focus
of interest is the relationship between West Mexico and the rest of the ecumene, and the
role played by the ancient West Mexicans in shaping the culture and history of the
Mesoamerican universe.
Ancient West Mexico has often been portrayed as a ‘marginal’ or
‘underdeveloped’ area of Mesoamerica. This book shows that the opposite is true.
Indeed, Williams convincingly demonstrates that West Mexico actually played a critical
role in the cultural and historical development of the Mesoamerican ecumene.

Eduardo Williams has been involved in West Mexican archaeology and ethnohistory since receiving his
BA degree in 1982. He obtained his PhD degree from the Institute of Archaeology, University College
London, in 1989. Williams joined the faculty of the Colegio de Michoacán (Zamora, Mexico) in 1990,
where he holds the post of Professor in the Center for Archaeological Research. He has been a visiting
scholar in the Department of Anthropology, University of California at Los Angeles (1988); the Middle-
American Research Institute, Tulane University (New Orleans) (1998); and the Department of
Anthropology, Tulane University (2011-2012). The following books stand out among Williams’
contributions to West-Mexican archaeology: La sal de la tierra (Colegio de Michoacán, 2003; winner of
the Alfonso Caso Prize awarded by the Mexican Institute of Anthropology and History [INAH] for
outstanding archaeological research); Water Folk: Reconstructing an Ancient Aquatic Lifeway in
Michoacán, Western Mexico (Archaeopress, 2014); and Tarascan Pottery Production in Michoacán,
Mexico (Archaeopress, 2017). Professor Williams is a member of the Mexican Academy of Sciences
since 2002.
 iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter I. Introduction
Mesoamerica: Debates and Perspectives over Time
The Mesoamerican Ecumene
The Aquatic Lifeway in Mesoamerica
West Mexico in the Mesoamerican Ecumene
Discussion and Conclusions
Content and Structure of this Book
Chapter II. History of Archaeological Research in West Mexico
Period I: 1880-1910
Period II: 1910-1950
Period III: 1950-1970
Period IV: 1970-1990
Part 1. History of Archaeological Research in Michoacán
Period I: 1880-1910
Period II: 1910-1950
Period III: 1950-1970
Period IV: 1970-1990
Part 2. History of Archaeological Research in Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and Sinaloa
Period I: 1880-1910
Period II: 1910-1950
Period III: 1950-1970
Period IV: 1970-1990
Final Remarks
Chapter III. First Inhabitants and Early Cultural Development
Geographical Background of West Mexico
Paleoindian Period: West Mexico’s First Inhabitants
Archaic Period: First Examples of Settled Life
Final Remarks
Chapter IV. The Formative Period (ca. 1500 BC-AD 300)
The Mesoamerican Ecumene during the Formative Period
The Middle Formative Period in West Mexico
 v

The Late Formative Period in West Mexico

Cultural Relations between West and Central Mexico in the Formative Period
Final Remarks
Chapter V. The Classic Period (ca. AD 250/300-900)
The Mesoamerican Ecumene during the Classic Period
Teotihuacan: City and State in the Basin of Mexico
The Teotihuacan Apartment Compound
Subsistence Activities
The City and its Surrounding Areas
Teotihuacan’s Presence in Mesoamerica
The Classic Period in West Mexico
Michoacán
The Bajío Lowlands
Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit
Zacatecas and the Northwestern Frontier
Cultural Relations between West and Central Mexico during the Classic Period
Final Remarks
Chapter VI. The Postclassic Period (ca. AD 900-1521)
Part 1. The Central and Southern Areas of the Mesoamerican Ecumene in the
Postclassic Period
Tula and the Toltecs
Residential Life at Tula
Subsistence Activities
Household Economy and Craft Production
Toltec Presence in Mesoamerica
The Downfall of the Toltecs
The Mixtec State and the Mixteca-Puebla Artistic Tradition
The Mixtec Culture
The City of Cholula and its Hinterland
The Mixteca-Puebla Artistic Tradition
Part 2. The Postclassic Period in West Mexico
Michoacán
Jalisco
Colima
 vi

Nayarit and Sinaloa

The Aztatlán Tradition
The Expansion of the Aztatlán Tradition in the Ecumene
The Uruk Trade System
The Silk Roads
Final Remarks
Chapter VII. The Tarascan Empire in the Mesoamerican Ecumene
The Tarascan Empire in the Protohistoric Period (ca. AD 1450-1530)
Pre-Hispanic Urbanization at Tzintzuntzan
Residential Areas
Manufacturing Zones
Public Zones
The Lake Cuitzeo Basin: A Key Economic Area of the Tarascan Empire
Strategic Resources
Strategic Resources in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin
Obsidian
Salt
Agriculture and Aquatic Resources

Discussion

Trade, Tribute and Transportation within the Tarascan Empire

Markets
Long-Distance Trade
The Tribute System
Circulation of Rare and Strategic Resources within the Tarascan Empire
Obsidian
Salt
Metals
Turquoise
Final Remarks
Chapter VIII. Discussion and Conclusions
References Cited
 vii

PREFACE

This book presents a long-overdue synthesis and update of West Mexican archaeology
aimed at scholars, students and the general public. Books published in English on West
Mexican archaeology are few and far between. The most notable ones we can mention
would include: Volume 11 of the Handbook of Middle American Indians, edited by
Robert Wauchope, Gordon Ekholm and Ignacio Bernal (1971); The Archaeology of
West Mexico, edited by Betty Bell (1974); The Archaeology of West and Northwest
Mesoamerica, edited by Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand (1985); Ancient West
Mexico: Art and Archaeology of the Unknown Past, edited by Richard F. Townsend
(1998); The Archaeology of West and Northwest Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster
and Shirley Gorenstein (2000); Shaft Tombs and Figures in West Mexican Society: A
Reassessment, edited by Christopher Beekman and Robert Pickering (2016); and
Cultural Dynamics and Production Activities in Ancient West Mexico, edited by
Eduardo Williams and Blanca Maldonado (2016). Upon comparing this list to the,
literally, hundreds of books published on central and southern –i.e. ‘nuclear’–
Mesoamerica, the reader will understand the importance of adding the present volume
to the archaeological literature.
All the books mentioned above are edited volumes containing the works of
many authors; thus, Ancient West Mexico in the Mesoamerican Ecumene is the first
book about West Mexican archaeology written by a single author. It is also a unique
volume because it is written from the perspective of the Mesoamerican ecumene; that is
to say, the universe of interaction that coalesced into one of the major civilizations in
the ancient world. This book is also the first time that a scholar combines perspectives
from archaeology, socio-cultural anthropology, ethnohistory and ethnoarchaeology to
shed light on the western cultural sub-area of Mesoamerica in ancient times.
Many books and articles edited by Phil Weigand and myself, and published by
the Colegio de Michoacán over the course of the last two-and-a-half decades, bear
testament to our shared interest in anthropological archaeology and our commitment to
publishing original research that does not follow the ‘normative’ approach that is so
prevalent in West Mexican archaeology. Many of these books, originally published in
Spanish and long out of print, have been used in shaping the present volume. This
includes my own articles, book chapters and papers, as well as works by many
 viii

colleagues, students and other scholars from Mexico and abroad. I thank all of them for
their contributions. The list of publications is too long to cite here, so I ask the reader to
refer to the References Cited section at the end of the book.
Thanks are due to the following colleagues who read various chapters and gave
me their advice, comments, or provided information (including books, articles, theses,
illustrations, etc.): Ericka Blanco, Blas Castellón, Susan T. Evans, Sergio Gómez
Chávez, David Grove, Dan Healan, Peter Jiménez, Blanca Maldonado, Linda
Manzanilla, Randall McGuire, Emiliano Melgar Tisoc, Joseph Mountjoy, Edgar Nebot,
Ángeles Olay, Agustín Ortiz Buitrón, Jeffrey Parsons, Bob Pickering, Helen Pollard,
José Luis Punzo, Paul Schmidt, Carlos Viramontes, David Wright, and Gabriela
Zepeda. However, I am solely responsible for the ideas expressed herein.

Eduardo Williams
Jacona, Michoacán,
17 December 2019
 1

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

This introductory essay consists of three parts. In the first, I discuss the main debates
and perspectives that have evolved in Mesoamerican studies over time, from the earliest
scholars in the 19th century to the latest contributions, and how different authors have
shaped our current perceptions about the culture area we know as Mesoamerica. The
second part is concerned with the Mesoamerican ecumene; 1 that is, the universe of
cultural and social interactions that coalesced into one of the major cultural areas of the
ancient world. In the last section, I explore the unique role that West Mexico played in
shaping that Mesoamerican ecumene.
Mesoamerica: Debates and Perspectives over Time
Before embarking on this narrative, it is important to consider a few basic notions about
our subject of interest. In her discussion of Mesoamerican civilization, Susan T. Evans
(2004a) explains that the physical environment where our story takes place is called
Middle America: ‘A geographical zone encompassing the region from the Isthmus of
Panama in the south through the Sonoran and Chihuahua deserts of northern Mexico
and the US Southwest’. As a culture area, Mesoamerica is defined by ‘shared features of
indigenous cultural adaptation… Mesoamerica only extends over part of Middle
America, covering that contiguous area where cultivation of maize… brought reliable
harvests’. Mesoamerica’s cultural borders thus shifted through time, ‘with changes in
climate that determined whether or not maize cultivation was possible in the
borderlands’ (p. 19).
Mesoamerica was one of the few regions of the ancient world where a primary
or pristine civilization emerged; that is to say, with no significant influence from any
other culture, in particular from the Old World. Indeed, the Mesoamerican ecumene can
be regarded as an independent universe of interaction with a shared history and culture 2
in which all participants engaged in equal measure (Figure 1). The term Mesoamerica

1
The word ecumene has been defined as: (a) ‘the permanently inhabited portion of the Earth as distinguished from the
uninhabited or temporarily inhabited area’; (b) ‘the nuclear area or center of maximum activity of a state having
the densest population and the closest network of transportation routes’; and (c) ‘a nuclear area of high culture to
which neighboring regions stand in a relation of cultural backwardness or dependence’ (synonymous with
civilization). (Merriam-Webster Dictionary: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ecumene).

2
The culture concept as understood by anthropologists has been difficult to reconcile with an archaeological perspective. In this
book, I follow Patty J. Watson’s definition of culture (based on the writings of Robert Redfield), as ‘an organized body of
conventional understandings manifest in art and artifacts which, persisting through tradition, characterizes a human group’ (Watson
1995:683).
 2

was coined by Paul Kirchhoff (1943), and its use has persisted to the present, though its
meaning has changed somewhat over time, as our knowledge has evolved thanks to new
research from the perspectives of archaeology, ethnohistory, linguistics, and socio-
cultural anthropology. What follows, then, is a discussion of the concept of
Mesoamerica in a diachronic vision that emphasizes changes and persistence through
the years. Later in this chapter, I will explore the role played by West Mexico as part of
the Mesoamerican ecumene.
Interest in cultures from the past –in this case the Mesoamerican ecumene– is
not new. From the time of first contact between the original inhabitants of Mesoamerica
and the Spanish invaders in the 16th century, various personages devoted their efforts to
acquiring information about those indigenous peoples who were undergoing a process
of transformation and disintegration. 3 Topics of interest included their existing beliefs
and customs, and those of their ancestors (Bernal 1980). Later, however, during the 17th
and 18th centuries, the Spanish rarely allowed ‘foreigners’ to enter their New World
possessions, while a prevailing conservative attitude did not encourage curiosity about
the cultures of the past. With the passing of time, learned people and philosophers
began to show great interest in other world cultures. After Mexico’s independence (in
the early 19th century), scholars from Mexico, Central America, Europe, and North
America had greater freedom to travel around the country and record and study the
remains of the Mesoamerican past. At the same time, archaeology was evolving: from a
mere antiquarian interest, it became a serious activity devoted to the systematic study of
past cultures (Evans 2004a:43).
The consolidation of the systematic study of prehistory, unlike the approach of
antiquarians of earlier times, began early in the 19th century, such that by the 1850s
prehistoric archaeology was emerging as an important component of the study of human
development through material culture (Trigger 2006:121). At the beginning of the 20th
century, the central theme of American archaeology was a concern with chronology, but
after 1940 other issues received more attention (Willey and Sabloff 1980), as in addition
to conducting classifications of artifacts, archaeologists also began to classify ancient
cultures. The main goal during the period between 1914 and 1940 was to produce a
synthesis of the cultural history of the New World (p. 83).

3
The main reason for the collapse of native societies in the 16th century was the introduction by the Spanish of Old World diseases
in Mesoamerica, which decimated the population. The introduction of new species such as sheep and cattle radically changed the
ecosystem, to the detriment of native populations (Melville 1994).
 3

Among these initial efforts we can mention the ‘archaic hypothesis’ proposed by
Herbert J. Spinden in 1917, which was based on the observation that throughout
Mesoamerica there were similar objects and figurines made of clay and other materials,
suggesting that the civilizations of this cultural area –the Teotihuacans, Mayas,
Zapotecs, and others– represented specialized developments that had emerged from a
common base of agricultural villages, which Spinden called the ‘Archaic period’. It was
during this time (now called the Formative, or Preclassic; ca. 1500 BC-AD 250) that
many of the basic ideas and inventions, including agriculture and pottery, that would
later become essential components of civilizations had their origins. Spinden illustrated
these ideas on a map that may well be the first depiction of the area that would come to
be known as Mesoamerica (Willey and Sabloff 1980:118, and Figure 88).
A contemporary of Spinden, the German scholar Eduard Seler, has been
characterized by Henry B. Nicholson as one of the most influential and productive of all
Americanists. Seler’s many interests and talents allowed him to make fundamental
contributions to such fields as indigenous linguistics, archaeology, native history, and
the ethnography of Mesoamerica. One area of Seler’s monumental contributions can be
characterized as ethnohistory. According to Nicholson, it could be argued that Seler’s
disciplined analytical methodology constituted a major contribution to Mesoamerican
studies, for after Seler the ethnohistory and archaeology of the Mesoamerican ecumene
would never be the same (Nicholson 1973:348, 361, 362).
Richard E. W. Adams (1977:12) mentions another German scholar who
contributed ideas from both library research and fieldwork to the definition of
Mesoamerica: Walter Lehmann, one of Seler’s students. William Werner (2010) tells us
that Lehmann (1878-1939) ‘was an eminent specialist in the ethnology and archaeology
of Mesoamerica during the height of Germany’s power as a global empire’ (p. 1) and ‘a
talented linguist, who synthesized his extensive philological knowledge with
archaeological research to reconstruct the culture histories of peoples in Mexico and
Central America in pre-Hispanic times.’ Lehmann made a ‘two-year journey from
Panama to Mexico beginning in October 1907. The vocabularies that he assembled
during this expedition set the benchmark for linguistic studies in Central America for
decades, and his photographic and archaeological collections continue to yield new
insights to Central American scholars today’ (p. 3). Lehmann was able to acquire a
plethora of artifacts that he shipped back to Berlin because many landowners invited
him ‘to carry out his own excavations on their estates in the nearby coffee-growing
 4

regions of the central valley of Costa Rica… During these visits, indigenous plantation
workers provided Lehmann with vocabularies for his linguistic research, labor for his
archaeological excavations, and models for anthropological measurements’ (p. 3).
Lehmann’s archaeological and ethnographic research in Central America
‘reinforced the concept of cultural identities as entities that create distinct boundaries
between individuals inhabiting an otherwise multinational landscape. This notion was
consistent with his culture-historical research’ (p. 3).
Another scholar who made a pioneering contribution to the definition of
Mesoamerica was Miguel Otón de Mendizábal (1928). Although Mendizábal’s research
that concerns us here had a very specific purpose –to locate the salt sources exploited in
ancient times in Mexico– Alfred Kroeber (1939) thought that his work was important
because it was based on the lifeways and mode of subsistence of Mesoamerican
indigenous peoples. The map that illustrates Mendizábal’s findings shows the
distribution of agricultural societies (that needed salt for their subsistence) and of the
hunter-gatherers of the northern deserts (who could live without it) (Kroeber 1939), but
what we really see on the map published by Mendizábal (1928) is the spatial
distribution of all the cultures that became part of the Mesoamerican ecumene.
By the 1940s, fieldwork, primarily excavation, had become the basis for
understanding cultural development in Mesoamerica. The Basin of Mexico was an
outstanding stage for archaeological research thanks to scholars like Manuel Gamio,
who had conducted digs there since the 1920s. Gamio excavated a deep pit at Cuanalán,
and studied a mound at San Miguel Amantla (Bernal 1980:164). He called his research
endeavors ‘the first and only excavation conducted with a scientific method in the
Valley of Mexico’ (Gamio 1928). It was in this area of the Basin of Mexico that Gamio
found the Archaic-Teotihuacan-Aztec archaeological sequence, but at that time it was
impossible to extend it to the rest of the Basin, much less to areas outside it (Bernal
1980:164).
George Vaillant (1940) also conducted outstanding archaeological investigations
in the Basin of Mexico during the first half of the 20th century. He was one of the first
authors to suggest a sequence of cultural evolution for the Mesoamerican ecumene
based on his observations that throughout southern and central Mexico there were many
examples of sedentary populations that depended on agriculture and had a fully-
functional and adequate tool kit consisting of clay objects, baskets, gourds, and many
other artifacts. Vaillant proposed six major cultural stages in Middle America: (1) a
 5

period of basic distribution of groups of hunter-gatherers; (2) a long phase of

domestication and incipient cultivation of food crops; (3) a long phase for the
development of permanent villages, the distribution of basic material equipment, and
the creation of local populations; (4) a phase overlying the previous one, in which it is
likely that migrations of people with highland techniques dispersed throughout the
lightly-populated forested country; (5) the spread of the idea of a ceremonial center and
variations of ritual, social, and material developments characteristic of Middle America;
and finally (6) that ‘peculiar upheaval’ which brought the cultural and governmental
hegemony of the Mixteca-Puebla culture (pp. 295-305).
As stated above, it was Paul Kirchhoff who coined the word Mesoamerica and
defined the ecumene’s geographical limits, ethnic composition, and cultural
characteristics at the moment of contact with the Spanish Conquistadores in the 16th
century. In his discussion of the Mesoamerican ecumene, Kirchhoff (1943) saw the area
as a region whose inhabitants, both early immigrants and later arrivals, were united by a
common history that confronted them as a group with other tribes from the American
continent such that their migratory movements were confined to its geographic limits,
once they had entered the Mesoamerican sphere (pp. 95-96). He based his study
primarily on the distribution of cultural elements that he divided into three groups: (1)
those exclusive to, or typical of, Mesoamerica; (2) those shared by Mesoamerica and
other cultural areas in the Americas; and (3) those that were absent in Mesoamerica (pp.
98-99).
Kirchhoff’s scheme is really a ‘snapshot’ that presents a static vision of
Mesoamerican indigenous reality on the eve of first contact with the European invaders.
His ideas were later elaborated and augmented by Alfred Kroeber (1948), who
recognized six major cultural areas in North America and four in South America, the
richest and most advanced ones being Mesoamerica and the Andes, which together
formed the climax, or core, area for the entire hemisphere in ancient times (pp. 787,
793). According to Kroeber, the presence of a ritual calendar, as well as the invention of
positional numerals (including the concept of zero) and an incipient script, could be
used as criteria for defining the extension of a ‘high-culture area’. He further mentioned
a ‘sub-nuclear area’, which included an agricultural zone that undoubtedly had
functioned as a corridor with the Southwestern portion of the present-day United States
(pp. 787, 793).
 6

In Jaime Litvak’s opinion, Kroeber’s groundbreaking study is important because

he reached the conclusion that Mesoamerica was made up of several parts that
functioned as definable regions. It is important to note, as well, that in Kroeber’s
original proposal, the relationship between culture and environment is conceived as ‘the
action that determines the whole scheme of development, and assumes that the
interaction between those regions is what defines the whole area’ (Litvak 1992:14).
Ten years after Kroeber’s work, Wigberto Jiménez Moreno set out to trace the
cultural development of ancient Mexico from the earliest evidence of ceramics (ca.
1500 BC) to the flowering of the ‘Toltec Empire’ (ca. AD 1000). Jiménez Moreno
presents two maps of Mesoamerica showing the most important developments during
the Formative period (the expansion of Olmec culture), and the transition to the Classic
period, in an attempt to give time depth to the proposals that up to that moment had
been static, and ignored the cultural diversity present in Mesoamerica (Jiménez Moreno
1959). Litvak (1975) commented the following about this study: ‘The model by Jiménez
Moreno gathers proposals that… produce a theoretical explanation of considerable
force, whose possibilities must be taken into account as a structure [that is] strongly
backed and brilliantly reasoned. [This model] explains Mesoamerica as a relationship
between two general material environments, the coasts and the highlands’ (p. 177).
Litvak thought that the model created by Jiménez Moreno included ‘other interesting
characteristics, such as the… integration of information derived from ethnography,
linguistics, and ethnohistory, used as factual data for its elaboration’ (p. 178).
Gordon Willey (1962) carried on these attempts to give time depth to the static
classificatory schemes that had been used to define the limits of the Mesoamerican
ecumene. In the early 1960s, he proposed a division of human history in Mesoamerica
into three main eras, according to the prevailing subsistence technology: (1) early
hunters (from an unknown date to ca. 7000 BC), who exploited several species of (now
extinct) Pleistocene fauna; (2) food gatherers and incipient farmers (ca. 7000-1500 BC),
who subsisted by gathering wild seeds and plants, as well as growing food crops, and
hunting or trapping small-sized fauna; and (3) the agricultural era (ca. 1500 BC-AD
1520), when food production by means of agriculture gradually increased in importance
for subsistence (p. 49). Willey’s ideas were among the contributions that served as the
basis for the current scheme of cultural evolution in the Mesoamerican ecumene (Table
1).
 7

Table 1. Cultural periods in the Mesoamerican ecumene, with dates and main
characteristics.*

Period Dates (Approximate) Comments

Paleo-Indian 20000-7000 BC First human inhabitants; ‘Paleolithic’ level of culture
oriented toward hunting, fishing, and gathering wild
resources.
Archaic 7000-1500 BC Transition from hunting/gathering to a farming lifeway; first
villages with incipient agriculture; settled communities
evolved gradually.
Early 1500-900 BC Development of most of the early complex societies in
Formative Mesoamerica; the first complex artistic styles (i.e. Olmec,
early Maya, etc.) show their earliest florescence (appearing
at the beginning of this period and covering an extensive
territory).
Middle 900-500 BC Regional polities emerge throughout Mesoamerica with
Formative towns and complex political systems, elaborate religion and
iconography.
Late Formative 500 BC-AD 300 Most of the defining features of Mesoamerican civilization
exist by the end of this period.
Classic AD 300-900 Increased populations and development of complex social
organization with urbanism, elaborate art forms and writing
in some areas.
Early AD 900-1200 Reformulation of regional cultures after the collapse of most
Postclassic Classic societies; first states with overarching imperial
ambitions.
Late Postclassic AD 1200-1520 Widespread empires like the Aztecs and Tarascans; first
historical and native documents, as well as eyewitness
accounts of indigenous life and customs.
Protohistoric AD 1450-1530 The Aztec Empire was established in the Basin of Mexico
and central-southern Mesoamerica. The Tarascan Empire
flourished in Michoacán and adjoining areas of West Mexico
from the mid-15th century to the first decades after the
Spanish conquest.
*
Adapted from Adams (1977:13), and Evans (2004a).

According to Willey, it was with the development of farming around 1500 BC

that Mesoamerica achieved unity as a cultural area, a unity expressed through a basic
agricultural complex consisting of maize, beans, pumpkins, and chili peppers (among
 8

other cultigens), and complemented by other edible plants that were domesticated, such
as cacao, agave, and numerous tubers, fruits and vegetables (p. 56). Willey also
mentions the following cultural traits that defined the incipient Mesoamerican tradition:
public ceremonial structures of great size, including platform-mounds for temples and
palaces arranged around plazas or rectangular patios. Certain religious themes or deities
were characteristic of the Mesoamerican cultural area as well, such as Tlaloc and
Quetzalcoatl, the lords of rain and cultural attainment, respectively. Inextricably linked
with religion were astronomical knowledge, the calendar, mathematics and writing (p.
56).
Willey et al. (1964) argued that the most distinctive cultures of the
Mesoamerican ecumene developed after the establishment of the first sedentary farming
communities, though they also perceived distinctions among various types of
Mesoamerican agriculture, each one adapted to a distinct ecological environment. In
some areas, the earth was sufficiently fertile to allow the annual rotation of crops,
alternating between two or more plots of land (the barbecho or fallow method), whereas
in others, such as lowland tropical forests, farmers could till a plot for only one or two
years before having to let it rest for five years or so (the ‘slash-and-burn’ method).
In other ecological settings, such as highland valleys, intensive agriculture was
possible thanks to such cultivation techniques as terraces, irrigation canals, dams, and
raised fields (like the chinampas of the Aztecs). At the moment of contact with the
Spanish invaders, Mesoamerica had a Neolithic level of technology, since metals were
used only scarcely except for ornamental purposes and ritual display (though there were
some tools made of copper or bronze). As for domesticated animals, the dog and turkey
were virtually the only species used for food in Mesoamerica (pp. 447-448). It is
noteworthy, indeed, that Mesoamerica was the only civilization in world history that
lacked any kind of large domesticated animals, such as cattle, sheep, or pigs. For this
reason, the Mesoamerican diet was based primarily on domesticated plants (Diamond
1999; Williams 2014a, 2014b).
From the time of the first farming communities in Mesoamerica (around the
second millennium before Christ), the most common form of settlement was the village.
Willey (1966) has stated that the structure of society rested on the foundations of the
household, which consisted of a nuclear or extended family, with several families
coming together to form villages. These settlements, in turn, came to be organized into
larger territorial units under a leadership focused on ceremonial centers or political-
 9

religious capitals. This is a very old pattern and one characteristic of the whole of
Mesoamerica. Ceremonial centers or headtowns would develop until they formed real
cities with platforms made of earth, adobe, or stone topped with temples or palaces
splendidly adorned with sculptures and paintings. These towns and cities were the seat
of political power wielded by hereditary rulers and priests, whose influence often
extended over broad territorial states or empires (pp. 86, 460).
In the first half of the 20th century in Mexico and the United States, several
scholars adopted a viewpoint that regarded civilization and state-level societies in
Mesoamerica as phenomena that originated from the need to develop a centralized
government, or political control, that regulated production systems, especially irrigation
for agriculture. Pedro Armillas (1991 [1948]), for example, proposed that the
development of religious symbolism, the construction of great pyramids, and the growth
of ceremonial centers in Mesoamerica, could all be explained as the result of the
introduction of intensive farming techniques, such as chinampas (lakeshore cultivation
plots), terraces and irrigation canals. All these features made it possible to produce a
surplus that might have been applied to sustain expensive ritual practices, and would
have created a social base for the development of such practices. Armillas thought that
it would be difficult to support any other explanation (p. 146).
Following Armillas’ perspective, Angel Palerm (1955) regarded the Basin of
Mexico as the best place to study ancient irrigation techniques, because ‘the flowering
of civilization in this arid valley… was a true product of human effort’ (p. 110). Palerm
highlighted the implications of this process for the evolution of complex social
formations in the following words: ‘In conclusion, we see the development of irrigation
in the Valley of Mexico not so much as the result of many small-scale initiatives
undertaken by small groups, but rather… as an enterprise on a grand scale, with proper
planning in which a huge number of people took part… under a centralized and
authoritarian leadership’ (p. 112).
Another contribution to this argument comes from Eric Wolf (1959), who wrote
that ‘some scholars believe that irrigation farming created the need for more efficient
organization and coordination in the construction and maintenance of dams, dikes, and
canals, and in the supervision of workers who built and repaired these waterworks.
Irrigation farming also produced the agricultural surpluses that fed both the laborers and
the new organizers of production’. However, Wolf also states that ‘other scholars favor
 10

the opposite view and hold that the new patterns of organization came first and made
the new productive enterprises possible’ (p. 74).
In order to explain the origins of civilization in Mesoamerica, William Sanders
(1962) observed that each type of environment presents its human occupants with
distinct challenges, so different sets of cultural responses should be expected from
human groups, which tend to follow the path of greatest efficiency in their exploitation
of their ecological setting, for instance irrigation farming (p. 34). At the end of the
1960s, agriculture with artificial irrigation was still regarded as a basic factor for the
development of complex societies and, eventually, of states. Sanders and Barbara Price
(1968), for instance, point out that the canals used to channel irrigation water to the
fields had to be cleaned periodically by a communal work force; work that required
planning and organization. Tasks of this nature would be carried out more effectively
when performed under a state-level political structure. Furthermore, in cases where
intensive farming had to be performed in conditions of scarce land and water, disputes
would inevitably arise over the appropriation and use of such resources. Clearly,
conflict resolution would be more efficient if formal patterns of authority, like those
associated with the state, existed (p. 176).
Sanders and Price’s ideas, summarized above, followed those of Palerm who, in
turn, based his proposals concerning the ‘Asiatic mode of production’ in Mesoamerica
on the earlier writings of Karl Wittfogel (1957). This well-known author regarded
irrigation as one of the main (if not the only) movers behind social evolution, which
culminated with the advent of the state. According to Wittfogel, the efficient
management of waterworks required a network of organization that included the entire
population of a country, or at least its dynamic core. Therefore, whoever exerted control
over the network of hydraulic features would be able to exercise supreme political
power (p. 26).
Palerm (1980) summed up the basic characteristics of the ‘Asiatic mode of
production’ in these terms: (1) This mode of production was determined by the level of
development of the productive forces. The economy had to have evolved beyond the
primitive subsistence level by means of agriculture. There also had to be social
production and surpluses of both production and labor. (2) The natural environment was
characterized by scarcity (or overabundance) of water for farming. Agriculture had been
developed in geographic settings that demanded technical skills for irrigation or
drainage, resulting in a constant need for organized and coordinated work throughout
 11

society. (3) This special kind of agriculture required a monumental scale in its
geographic and technical aspects, which resulted in the large-scale physical
manifestations we see today in many parts of the world, including Mesoamerica (pp. 57-
58).
In the 1980s, some authors continued to invoke the concept of the Asiatic mode
of production to explain the development of complex societies in Mesoamerica, even
defining this concept as ‘the greatest contribution to our knowledge of pre-Hispanic
Mexico in the last forty years’ (Boehm de Lameiras 1985:258). 4
In the 1960s, renewed interest emerged in the relationship between the
environment and socio-cultural evolution. This was particularly evident among the few
archaeologists who had begun to search for the causes of cultural change (Willey and
Sabloff 1980). A good example of this concern is the book Mesoamerica: The Evolution
of a Civilization, by Sanders and Price (1968), which discusses the ecological features
that set the stage for cultural evolution in this ecumene. Those authors state that ‘one
striking, salient characteristic of the [Mesoamerican] area as a whole is its extraordinary
diversity. The tight micro-geographical zoning results in a corresponding diversity and
highly-localized distribution of raw materials’ (p. 188). They further believed that
‘Mesoamerica may be divided into a series of regions for which the term “Symbiotic
Region” is useful. Each consists of zones of contrasting environments, and each has a
highland and a lowland component… The interrelationships of the components of these
regions are complex and overlapping’ (p. 189). These observations apply equally to
West Mexico and all other areas of Mesoamerica, as we shall see in subsequent
chapters. Sanders and Price close their argument by stating that ‘the implication of the
concept of economic symbiosis is that when areas were in close historical contact, such
contacts were a primary force in the enrichment of local cultural traditions’ (p. 190).
Litvak (1992) saw in the aforementioned attempts to define Mesoamerica, that
this cultural area involved ‘the factors causing and defining civilization as a state of
higher development of mankind’s culture. The… [Mesoamerican] area is comparable to
other regions, and so it allows for the construction of general models of archaeological
theory’ (p. 10). One of these models was proposed by Litvak himself, who defined

4
The basic ideas behind the Asiatic mode of production, however, have not lacked critics, including Gary Feinman (2006), who
pointed out that in the Oaxaca Valley, as in other areas of the Mesoamerican highlands, it is not possible to argue that large-scale
irrigation played an important role in the origin and development of the state. In fact, Feinman holds that the most powerful states
could have been based on quite simple farming techniques. These ideas have been corroborated in the Andes, both in the Bolivian
highlands (Stanish 1994) and on the coast of Peru (Billman 2002). Beyond the New World, Karl Marx considered the island of Bali,
Indonesia, as the best example of the Asiatic mode of production. However, it has not been possible to find a direct link between
irrigation and social evolution there (Lansing 1987).
 12

Mesoamerica as ‘a spatial system of normal exchange, where each constituent region,

apart from its own inner dynamics, has relations with all other regions, with variations
through time and with ever-changing states of equilibrium’ (p. 183). Litvak’s definition
of Mesoamerica was based on the interaction among zones characterized both
ecologically and as the component parts of a network. He thought that Mesoamerica
was constituted through a process that could be discerned in the distribution of
archaeological materials that originated in one of the participating regions but appeared
as normal finds in the other regions that made up the Mesoamerican ecumene. When
translated into purely archaeological terms, Litvak’s model has the advantage that it is
subject to empirical verification (pp. 183, 185).
Meanwhile, the ideas expressed by Blanton et al. (1981) concur with Litvak’s
viewpoints discussed above. For Blanton and his colleagues, the Mesoamerican
ecumene ‘came into being as a real, historical entity, self-defined by the patterned
behavior of its people. Mesoamerica was a social system. It was, to borrow from
Immanuel Wallerstein, a world-system, meaning that its destiny was largely self-
defined, and to its participants it represented all the world they wished to care about’ (p.
245). According to these authors, Mesoamerica ‘was neither a world-empire nor a
world-economy. The relationships holding it together were neither those of a single
empire nor those of separate economic institutions… What made Mesoamerica an
encompassing social system was its structure of elite prestige’ (p. 246). In discussing
cultural change over time, Blanton et al. suggest that ‘from the chiefdoms of the
Preclassic to the states and empires of later times, regional societies in Mesoamerica
were composed of two strata: the rulers and the ruled… The elite… of each regional
society… had much in common with their counterparts in neighboring and even far-
flung regions’ (p. 246). In their opinion, an elite usually ‘had more in common with
other elites… than it did with its own commoners. These elite activities were the
interregional contacts that made the Mesoamerican world what it was to its participants
and what it is to us as… archaeologists’ (p. 246).
Mesoamerica was not all that different from other areas of high culture in
antiquity in the sense that there was a series of historical-cultural traditions within the
ecumene that interacted intensely through ideological nexuses, economic contacts, and
political rivalries. However, each sub-area of Mesoamerica was quite different from the
others: from West Mexico at one extreme to the Maya area at the other, we can see
striking social and cultural contrasts, although there was a degree of congruency and, to
 13

some extent, continuity. In many cases, interaction within the ecumene was sufficiently
intense to become symbiotic in nature. Trade was the main structure (though not the
only one) that kept Mesoamerica together, complemented by exchange and tribute of
scarce resources, including both basic and luxury goods. The character and intensity of
these relationships are the defining factors of an ecumene, rather than the specific
aspects of social organization or culture. Although the latter are indispensable for
understanding each component of an ecumene, the ecumene itself is defined by the
interwoven structure that gives cohesion to the different elements. Therefore, the socio-
cultural differences among the constituent parts should not limit our grasp of the macro-
economic considerations that forged one single entity out of many parts (Williams and
Weigand 2004; see also Weigand 1982, 1993a).
Mesoamerica had great ecological and geographic diversity, which fostered
trade and exchange between regions from earliest times. Virtually no region of
Mesoamerica had all the elements that were necessary for subsistence. The most
important ecological contrasts were between the cold highlands and the hot lowlands
and coastal areas (Blanton et al. 1981; Sanders and Price 1968). The imposition of
tribute by military means, together with trade, served from antiquity as mechanisms for
the exchange of people, information, and goods between regions in conditions of
dynamic and poorly-defined borders between different social systems (Blanton et al.
1981:60).
Recent decades have seen increasing interest in research on Mesoamerican
cultures of the Postclassic period (ca. AD 900-1521), conducted by archaeologists,
ethnohistorians, specialists in art history, epigraphers, and other scholars. One example
of this holistic approach is the book The Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by
Michael Smith and Frances Berdan (2003). This volume presents a collection of studies
that attempt to synthesize and analyze all the new information under the concept of the
‘Mesoamerican world system’. Information from archaeology and ethnohistory shows
that during the Postclassic, the Mesoamerican economy was more highly-
commercialized than during previous times, and had distribution systems based on
competitive market exchange (Smith and Berdan 2003). The list of ‘key commodities’
is quite extensive, including the following products: cacao, copper axes that functioned
as money, copper and bronze bells, feathers and feathered ornaments, gold and silver
jewelry, greenstone jewels (turquoise, jade, and others), obsidian (in raw form and as
artifacts), painted manuscripts, simple and decorated textiles, polychrome ceramics, raw
 14

cotton, salt, and slaves, among many other goods and materials. It is rarely easy to
define the monetary value of commodities in historical or archaeological contexts, but
we know that the Mesoamerican commercial economy included different kinds of
exchange units (copper axes, cotton mantles, and gold dust, among others), so it is
probable that people measured the value of goods in terms of price (Smith and Berdan
2003).
In Smith and Berdan’s view, the basic elements for the spatial constitution of the
Mesoamerican world system during the Postclassic were individual polities; that is, the
small city-states that appeared in this period and thrived as foci of development,
including production and international trade centers, and zones for procuring strategic
resources. The relationships established among these states differed in scale and nature:
economic, political, social, and religious, and it was the nature of these relationships
that gave the Mesoamerican ecumene its characteristic texture.
In conclusion, Mesoamerica should not be seen as a monolithic construct but,
rather, as a cultural universe with several overlapping spheres of interaction: political,
cultural, religious, ideological, and commercial. Mesoamerica was a stage upon which
several human groups fulfilled their historical destiny according to a shared worldview
or cosmovision. One especially important argument in this regard was offered by
William Fowler and Stephen Houston (1990) in the following passage:
Since Seler, and more formally since Kirchhoff’s day, scholars have viewed
Mesoamerica as a region that is culturally diverse, yet at the same time
integrated by bonds of history, economy, and religious belief. Here is perhaps
one instance in which a term has proved more useful than its authors ever
imagined; most of us were trained as Mesoamericanists, not Belizean Mayanists
or Tabasqueño olmequistas… The large and growing number of Mesoamerican
specialists suggests that many feel the same way… But… in recent years… it
has become increasingly acceptable to lose sight of Seler and Kirchhoff’s vision
and to focus on a small corner of Mesoamerica, even a particular valley or
shoreline, missing entirely the panoramic sweep of Mesoamerican antiquity.
This seems to us a sad thing and, worse yet, a prelude to intellectual triviality
and inadequate scholarship (p. 1).

The main ideas of this message are echoed by Kowalewski et al. (1992), who
believe that in addition to the partial and particularistic viewpoint criticized by Fowler
 15

and Houston, another problem that has hindered archaeological and ethnohistorical
research in Mesoamerica is the existence of a ‘normative’ viewpoint, 5 as seen in the
cultural-historical approach that dominated Mesoamerican archaeology until the 1960s,
and still boasts many followers today. Kowalewski et al. are critical of ‘the all-too-
frequent Mesoamericanist infatuation with personages, diffusing traits and influences,
and undifferentiated, mentalist conceptions of past cultures’ (p. 260).
The Mesoamerican Ecumene
The ancient Greeks used the word Oikoumene, meaning ‘the place inhabited by
humankind’ to define those parts of the world known to them where ‘civilized’ peoples
lived. Arnold Toynbee (1976) tells us that ‘the Oikoumene is a Greek term which
became current in the Hellenic Age… after the Hellenic Greek World had expanded…
Its literal meaning is “the inhabited part of the world”… but in practice the Greek
inventors and users of the term restricted its application to the fraction of the inhabited
part of the world that was occupied by so-called “civilized” societies’. In the ancient
Greek worldview, the Oikoumene was limited to ‘the domains of the civilizations with
which the Greeks themselves had become familiar’ (p. 27). The concepts of ecumene (a
variant of oikoumene) and the more-or-less equivalent ‘world system’ both refer to
sociopolitical and economic entities that, by definition, encompass not just extensive
territories, but also a series of social systems that interact with each other and
collectively constitute civilizations (Smith and Berdan 2003; Wallerstein 1974;
Weigand 2000; Williams 2004a; Williams and Weigand 2004, 2011).
Toynbee (1976) tells us that ‘the civilizations of Mesoamerica and Peru had
blossomed into their “classic” full flower perhaps as early as the beginning of the
Christian Era, while the antecedent “formative” period of these American higher
cultures may have begun… as early as the beginning of any of the Old World
civilizations except the Sumero-Akkadian and the Pharaonic Egyptian’ (p. 28). In the
Old World, the time of the advent of ‘the oldest civilizations… was ca. 3000 BC, and,
at that date, those pre-Columbian American cultures that eventually blossomed into
civilizations… had perhaps already taken the first steps toward the domestication of
maize, which was to become their staple cultivated food’ (p. 49). Almost at the same
time, by the 15th century, ‘The Mesoamerican and Andean societies were each one
encapsulated politically in an empire that embraced the greater part of the society’s

5
The normative model of culture (in archaeology, anthropology and history) defines culture as a set of shared ideas, or norms. The
normative model was the dominant perspective in archaeology up to the rise of processual archaeology in the 1960s (Binford 1983).
 16

domain. In each case the empire-building was done by a community that had arrived
relatively recently in the location from which it subsequently expanded its political
dominion’. Toynbee pointed out that ‘… so far as we know, the Aztecs were the first
conquerors in the Mesoamerican world to create an empire that came near to being all-
embracing’ (p. 517). Meanwhile, in the Andean area, ‘the Inca Empire dwarfed the
Aztec Empire in area, though it may not have surpassed it to the same degree in the size
of its population, considering how much of its territory was uninhabitable. In area, the
Inca Empire was comparable to the First Persian, the Chinese, and the Roman Empires’
(p. 521).
Regarding the human Oikoumene from a global perspective, Toynbee made the
following observations: ‘In the course of the century and a half ca. 1400-1550,
mankind´s traditional mental picture of [the human] habitat, and of its place in the
Universe, was transformed… the size of the Oikoumene now suddenly expanded’ (p.
524) after the first formal contacts between Europe and the rest of the world (America,
Asia, Africa). ‘The period that spanned the 15th and 16th centuries was the age in which
the global Oikoumene coalesced’. This process ‘was sudden, and it brought with it
sudden changes of fortune… to the previously segregated sections of the human race. It
was an unmitigated catastrophe for the Aztecs and the Incas and for West Africans
within reach of Western Christian slave-traders. Some of the Aztec’s and the Inca’s
subjects welcomed their release from the regional empire-builders’ recently imposed
domination, only to discover that they had not been liberated but had merely undergone
a change of masters’ (p. 526).
In order to understand the role played by West Mexico in the Mesoamerican
ecumene, I will discuss the concept of ecumene as it has been applied to Mesoamerican
studies by several authors, primarily Phil C. Weigand (1982, 1993a, 2000; see also
Williams and Weigand 2004, 2011). According to Weigand (2000), all early
civilizations depended on the production of food for their existence, primarily by means
of agriculture. While the details behind the evolution of this situation are still being
investigated and are still subject to debate, this general statement is widely accepted,
and needs no discussion here. However, food production is multi-faceted, in most cases
implying regional specializations of one kind or another that are always closely-linked
to the availability of resources and cultural definitions of what was ultimately regarded
as a food resource. With only one exception, the global experience of the evolution of
early civilizations shows entities that depend on the systematic development of a basic
 17

triad of domesticated resources: plants, animals, and the human beings that depended on
them for sustenance.
Compared to Mesoamerica, the Old World, and to some extent the Andean area,
reveal distinct emphases on animals and plants in this triadic relationship. One example
of this situation comes from the extremely hot alluvial terrain of Mesopotamia, which
did not lend itself to extensive cattle-raising. There, a symbiotic relationship developed
with the inhabitants of the nearby slopes of the Zagros Mountains, where grains and
other agricultural produce were exchanged for cattle or its products in a mutually-
beneficial arrangement. The relationship between the highlands and coastal valleys in
the Andean area had a similar structure, while the environments of other areas, such as
the Nile Valley and Syria-Palestine, lent themselves to a mixed regime of cattle-raising
and farming (Weigand 2000).
In all these cases, animals and plants constituted the basis of a symbiotic triad
that relied on domestication and generated a particular social order (Weigand 1982,
1993a). The only exception to this pattern in the world was Mesoamerica, where the
ecumene relied on a dyadic relationship that involved only domesticated plants and
humans. The first Europeans to arrive in Mesoamerica reported that no domesticated
animals existed there, except for dogs and turkeys, so the role of animal domestication
in the native Mesoamerican economy was indeed quite limited, yet it still supported an
urban lifestyle with all the trappings of civilization. Weigand (2000) holds that
archaeologists, socio-cultural anthropologists, historians and other social scientists
should try to understand why the Mesoamerican ecumene became such a unique
example of specialized plant domestication, to the extent that it excluded any attempt to
develop systematic animal husbandry, beyond the minor species just mentioned (but
complemented by hunting, fishing, and gathering, where these activities were viable).
Weigand (2000) further points out that in the Andean area several species of the
Camelidae family, notably the llama (Lama glama), were in the process of being tamed,
if not fully domesticated, during the period of early food production and domestication.
Later, the llama became fully domesticated, and was widely-used for transportation,
food and as a source of skins. Though llamas are not as strong as horses, it is a species
obviously well-adapted to the Andean terrain, with its geographic and climatic
extremes. Mesoamerica, on the other hand, had to rely on human porters and water
transport to move goods and people from one point to another.
 18

Another of Weigand’s (2000) areas of interest was why this specialized

Mesoamerican economy emerged in the first place. His explanation underscores the
scarcity of cases in world history of early civilizations that had such a rich variety of
useful plants as Mesoamerica where, in addition to plants such as maize, beans,
cucurbits, chili peppers, and a vast list of other cultigens (see the list published by
Mangelsdorf et al. 1964), Mesoamericans had at their disposal many other sources of
protein, vitamins, and minerals, including insects, insect eggs, fish, frogs, reptiles,
rodents, and birds, etcetera (Castelló 1987; Diamond 1999; Parsons 2010, 2011; Rojas
1988, 1998). While Old World diets relied on a long list of domesticated animal species,
notably cattle, Mesoamericans lacked major sources of animal protein, as well as
essential minerals such as sodium chloride. In fact, salt had to be added to the diet and
thus became a strategic resource of primary importance (Williams 2003, 2015). In
conclusion, Weigand (2000) thought that Mesoamerican peoples simply did not
perceive any need to add domesticated animal food products in order to achieve a
protein-rich diet.
In addition to diet, transportation in Mesoamerica was also affected by the lack
of large domesticated animals. Among the Aztecs, for instance, porters –known as
tlamemes– carried all kinds of commodities from one end of the empire to the other. We
do not know exactly how much each load weighed, but on the basis of ethnohistorical
sources Ross Hassig (1985) suggests that a tlameme typically carried a load weighing
two arrobas (around 23 kg) over a distance of five leagues (roughly 21-28 km) before
being relieved (pp. 28-32). These figures, however, must be taken only as estimates,
because the loads and distances covered could vary according to the terrain (e.g.
mountains, jungle, forest, desert, and so on), while climatic conditions and other factors
could also affect the circulation of goods on the backs of those bearers (p. 33).
Water transport was also important throughout the ecumene. In the case of West
Mexico, the Lerma River and its many tributaries, as well as the numerous lakes in the
region, were indispensable for moving all kinds of trade goods and commodities, while
along the Pacific coast, navigation between coastal communities was also a vital aspect
of commercial activities and cultural contact (Biar and Favila 2016). Thus, aquatic
transportation and, in fact, an entire aquatic lifeway (characterized by fishing, hunting,
gathering and manufacture) were essential to the livelihoods of many Mesoamerican
peoples, as discussed below.
 19

The Aquatic Lifeway in Mesoamerica

I have mentioned repeatedly that Mesoamerica was the only civilization in history that
was bereft of any kind of domesticated livestock, but despite this condition
Mesoamerican foodways were among the most complete in ancient times (Williams
2009a, 2014a, 2014b, 2014c). Most large, and potentially-domesticable, animal species
in the New World became extinct some 12,000-17,000 years ago; that is, right around
the time that humans began to appear on the continent (indeed, it has been suggested
that early humans contributed to the extinction of Pleistocene fauna) (Diamond 1999). 6
The domestication of cattle, horses, pigs, sheep or other animals in the Neolithic
(ca. 7000-2000 BC) in the Old World allowed human populations to considerably
broaden the range of exploitation of their environment, since the anatomical adaptation
of ungulates (primarily ruminants such as cattle, sheep, goats, and camels, among
others) to a diet high in cellulose and low in proteins gave humans an indirect way of
exploiting cellulose-rich plants, especially grasses and the boughs and leaves of bushes
(Harris 1977:220). This complex of domesticated animals (that in addition to meat
provided wool, milk and energy for field labors) never emerged in pre-Hispanic
Mesoamerica. While this fact certainly had far-reaching implications for technology and
culture, its primary impact was on the diet of ancient Mesoamericans. According to
Jeffrey Parsons, the lack of domesticated herbivores obliged the ancient inhabitants of
Mesoamerica to look for alternative foodways. And this meant exploiting non-
agricultural resources, such as the aquatic animal and plant species that complemented
basic agricultural products thanks to their high levels of proteins and nutrients (Parsons
2011).
Parsons has developed an analytical perspective to illustrate the dependence of
Mesoamerican peoples on a wide range of natural resources of aquatic origin (apart
from agriculture) for their daily sustenance. He holds that non-agricultural resources
from many lakes in Mesoamerica, particularly salt and edible insects (and perhaps algae
as well), were so energetically- and economically-important as to attract large numbers
of people to engage full-time in their extraction, processing, and distribution. Such an
attraction would necessarily have been significant in sociopolitical terms. In Parsons’
opinion, the beds and swampy shores of lakes should be considered in much the same

6
Originally, there were many species of large fauna in the New World, which became extinct. These mass extinctions occurred
around 11,000 years ago, when the hunters of the ‘Clovis culture’ arrived in the New World. When they moved south, these hunters
found many large mammals that they eventually killed off. Another theory suggests that these extinctions were due to climate
change, which has also been recorded for ca. 11,000 years ago. Regardless of which theory is correct, most species of great size,
which might have been domesticated by early Americans, were totally wiped out during this time frame (Diamond 1999:46-47).
 20

way as agricultural land when we attempt to evaluate pre-Hispanic productive potentials

and carrying capacities (Parsons 1996:442).
Teresa Rojas provides another important point of view for this discussion, for
she believes that few regions in the Americas had non-agricultural food resources as
abundant as those of the Basin of Mexico, where fishing, bird-hunting, salt production,
and the capture of turtles, frogs, salamanders, small crustaceans, mollusks and diverse
insects and their larvae, as well as algae and other aquatic plants, all contributed to
enriching the diet and subsistence of inhabitants from very early times. Each one of
these activities has its own character and history, which can be reconstructed in part
thanks to archaeological, historical, and zoological studies. The knowledge and
remembrances of present-day inhabitants are also an invaluable source of information
on local flora and fauna (Rojas 1998).
These abundant aquatic species represented a great natural wealth that had
consequences for the sociopolitical organization of such Mesoamerican states as the
Aztecs and Tarascans, who lived in an ecological context characterized by numerous
large lakes, marshes, and other bodies of water. Because they had no domesticated
cattle, Mesoamericans developed subsistence strategies that produced an aquatic lifeway
that was unique in the ancient world (Diamond 1999). According to Sugiura et al.
(1998), this ‘aquatic mode of subsistence’ may be defined as a system that articulates all
activities linked to processes established between human groups and their means of
production. Thus, it is a specific response and interrelationship between people and their
bio-physical surroundings that develops to ensure their survival and reproduction as a
group. The aquatic mode of subsistence is part of a broader system that consists of an
ecotonal lakeside zone where two structurally-distinct ecosystems –one aquatic, the
other terrestrial– interact to produce an abundance of natural species.
The exploitation of this lakeside zone did not require complex technology;
rather, it was based on the appropriate management of empirical knowledge related to
exploitable resources, and of a set of basic tools or artifacts. The inhabitants of lakeside
areas were not limited to exploiting the aquatic environment, for they widened their
sphere of action to include the surrounding alluvial soils, indispensable for agriculture,
and the forests beyond them (Sugiura et al. 1998).
In some areas of Mesoamerica, such as the Basin of Mexico, several elements of
indigenous life, particularly those related to the sphere of material culture associated
with an aquatic lifeway (i.e., fishing, hunting, and gathering), were not greatly-modified
 21

by Spanish influence after the Conquest. In fact, most of the techniques, tools, and
artifacts survived into the early decades of the 20th century (García Sánchez 2004). On
the basis of historical and ethnographic sources, an aquatic lifeway can be characterized
by the three basic subsistence activities that we have discussed in this section: (a)
fishing, including not only fish but many other edible aquatic species; (b) hunting,
which includes semi-aquatic species such as birds and reptiles, among others, as well as
land animals that dwell in the lakeside area and the nearby forests and hills; and (c)
gathering, which includes aquatic species (both edible ones and others used for
manufacture, such as reeds) and land species, and thus encompasses a wide variety of
wild resources (animal, vegetable, and mineral) (García Sánchez 2004). To these three
activities we must add the manufacture of all kinds of artifacts and elements that are
indispensable for the subsistence and reproduction of human social groups.
There is a great similarity worldwide in the nature of the tools, implements, and
procedures used to obtain and process aquatic resources. In order to carry out these
activities, a whole range of artifacts exists for cutting, scraping, perforating, grinding,
gouging, boiling, and storing. These implements would have to be manufactured or
procured, and then maintained or curated, repaired, and replaced when broken or worn
out. Likewise, other artifacts were needed to manufacture or repair such infrastructure
elements as fishnets, traps, ropes, baskets, bags, boats, shelters, and vessels (Parsons
2006; Williams 2014a).
West Mexico in the Mesoamerican Ecumene
West Mexico is probably the sub-area of Mesoamerica for which we have the least
amount of information about pre-Hispanic culture history (Williams 1994). This lack of
archaeological data derives in part from the relative paucity of research in the region,
since most fieldwork in Mesoamerica has been conducted in areas with monumental
remains of ancient civilizations, such as Teotihuacan, Monte Albán, and the Maya area.
Because they lack huge urban sites, western and northern areas of Mesoamerica have
been relegated to a secondary status. However, recent research has revealed that West
Mexico was actually a very important player in Mesoamerica’s cultural milieu, though
its role is only now beginning to be fully-defined and understood (see Chapter II).
For purposes of the present discussion, West Mexico includes the present-day
states of Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit, and Sinaloa, roughly the region between
the Fuerte and Balsas Rivers (Figure 1). The state of Guerrero, though virtually
unknown in terms of archaeology, seems not to be closely-linked to the western sub-
 22

area as it is conceived here (Meighan 1974:1254). West Mexico is the largest of the
areas that make up the Mesoamerican ecumene, and also the most diverse in terms of its
natural environments. However, it does not form a single geographical unit or cultural
area, especially if we consider the great ecological and cultural variety that
characterized this extensive region in pre-Hispanic times.
West Mexico thus extends over several natural environments, including different
ecological niches: portions of the Mesa Central (central plateau), the Neo-Volcanic
Axis, the Mesa del Norte (northern plateau), the western Sierra Madre, and the Pacific
Lowlands (West 1964). According to Meighan and Nicholson (1970), the states of
Nayarit, Jalisco, and Colima do not constitute a geographic unit because in addition to
the fact that they contain numerous microenvironments, they are also divided into two
basic regions: highlands at altitudes that average 5000 feet, and a relatively narrow
coastal plain of tropical lowlands. The vegetation that covers most of West Mexico
varies from savannahs and grasslands in the northern plains, to tropical forests in the
coastal area, and to pine and oak woodlands in the plains and valleys. To the south of
the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area, the state of Michoacán –one of the most diverse
microcosms in all of Mesoamerica– has been divided into five areas: (1) the valleys,
lakes, and marshlands of the north; (2) the central sierra; (3) the tierra caliente or ‘hot
lands’ (the Tepalcatepec River Basin); (4) the southern Sierra Madre; and (5) the Pacific
coast (Guevara 1989:10).
In such a geographic framework as the one just outlined, one would expect to
find considerable cultural heterogeneity and, in fact, no fewer than 29 ‘cultural sub-
areas’ have been suggested for pre-Hispanic West Mexico (Schondube 1980: Map 6).
This cultural diversity is underscored by the numerous linguistic groups that the 16th-
century Spanish Conquistadores found there. The linguistic map of the western area of
Mesoamerica contains 26 languages and dialects, many of them now extinct (Longacre
1967: Figure 15; Ramírez Flores 1980). According to Schondube (1980:124), two
factors stand out among the many elements that combined to shape West Mexico’s
cultural profile: first, the difficulty of communications in the area, because of
physiographic barriers such as mountains, rivers and deep ravines; and, second, the fact
that many cultural sub-areas were self-sufficient because they contained several,
mutually-complementary microenvironments. These two factors help explain the degree
of cultural heterogeneity and the lack of unity in the west, especially in the Jalisco-
Colima-Nayarit area, during most of the pre-Hispanic period.
 23

Since the days of the first European invaders and explorers in West Mexico, it
has been clear that the area lacked, for the most part, several of the major features of
nuclear Mesoamerica, such as large urban or ceremonial centers, monumental artworks,
hieroglyphic writing, and calendrical notations. These facts have combined to create an
image of simple or backward societies living in a marginal area. However, a new
viewpoint is currently gaining wide acceptance. It argues that West Mexico interacted
with its neighbors and contributed to enriching the Mesoamerican ecumene. Clement
Meighan (1974) has voiced this idea in his discussion of two distinct cultural traditions:
on the one hand, the Mesoamerican tradition, with its long history of continuity in art,
religion, iconography and worldview, and, on the other, the tradition that has been
considered typical of the west, characterized by the ‘shaft-tomb complex’. Meighan
(1974) points out that several authors place West Mexico outside the core
Mesoamerican cultural sphere, but this idea is more relevant for some periods than
others, and applies in all its force to only the shaft-tomb tradition. In Meighan’s view,
during the millennium before the arrival of the Spaniards, West Mexico was a regional
variant of the Mesoamerican world. In fact, Meighan and Nicholson (1970) hold that
from the beginning of the Christian era, West Mexico seems to have shared with the rest
of Mesoamerica a general pattern of farming villages, but during the time of greatest
flowering of the Classic-period cultures, such as Teotihuacan and Monte Albán, the
west saw the prevalence of a distinctive type of community and art styles. Therefore,
West Mexico, in particular the Colima-Jalisco-Nayarit area, is distinguished from the
rest of Mesoamerica in that its communities were smaller and lacked complex urban
centers with monumental architecture and urban manifestations.
The western area of Mesoamerica was certainly important as a corridor for
cultural contact between the peoples of the ecumene and the Southwest United States
(Kelley 1974; Riley 2005), and perhaps also the northwestern coasts of South America
(Meighan 1969). Another important role played by West Mexico was as a nuclear area
where important innovations were introduced, such as metallurgy, around the eighth
century AD (Hosler 1994a).
Mesoamerica’s northern frontier shifted over time, so part of Mexico’s
northwest was outside of the ecumene during certain periods; for example, the
Postclassic (Braniff 1974, 2001; Cordell 2001). Beginning around the 10th century AD,
and especially from the 13th century to the time of the Spanish invasion (early 16th
century), groups of Chichimecs (nomadic hunters from the north) expanded southwards,
 24

taking over territories that had been Mesoamerican. This southward expansion had to do
with a process of progressive desertification, which precluded agriculture in the
extensive region of northwestern Mexico (Braniff 1989). But another process was at
play in the northern reaches of the ecumene as well. We know that by the eighth
century, if not before, West Mexico was fully-integrated into the Mesoamerican cultural
sphere through commercial links involving luxury goods such as turquoise. In many
sites in West Mexico, such as Guasave (Sinaloa), Las Cuevas and Zacoalco (Jalisco),
and the Ixtlán del Río area (Nayarit), archaeologists have found turquoise identical to
that produced in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. This process of structural integration
within the Mesoamerican commercial system became more intense over time, until the
Tarascan Empire began to control trade in turquoise and other precious materials that
came from the north (Figure 2) (Harbottle and Weigand 1992; Weigand 1995a).
Discussion and Conclusions
We have seen in this chapter that the study of Mesoamerican culture and civilization has
attracted the attention of many scholars from numerous countries over an extended
period of time. Several perspectives developed as time passed, but the concept of the
ecumene is one of the most useful and productive. Regarding the basic features of
Mesoamerican civilization, John Staller (2010) has pointed out that ‘food and cuisine in
Mesoamerica… are inseparable from a worldview largely molded on the life cycle of
plants, particularly that of maize… [as well as] directionality, agricultural practices, and
systems of reciprocity’ (p. 3). In linguistic, ethnic and cultural terms, Mesoamerica was
diverse. However, ‘nearly all Mesoamerican societies had a 260-day Ritual Calendar,
shared similar cosmologies and religious practices, and relied on maize as a staple food
crop… Thus, from Central Mexico to western Honduras we find peoples who possessed
basic cosmological assumptions, religious practices, similar material cultures, artistic
conventions, political structures, and foodways’ (p. 4). According to Staller, in spite of
‘the great diversity found throughout this region… in order to understand
Mesoamerican peoples it is important to acknowledge a shared cultural and social
history’ (p. 4).

Echoing the concept of the ecumene as applied to our own modern world (and
by implication to Mesoamerica), Litvak (1985) has written that ‘the size of [the human]
world is measured by what supports [our] life. If we take a look at what we wear, what
we eat, what we use, we will see the size of our world… Through travel we live in the
 25

whole world and our world is, indeed, the whole globe’ (p. 15-16). Then he asks: ‘What
was the world for a farmer in central or southern Mexico in the year 2000 BC? For one
thing, it was known. People had settled many places in very early times, and towns had
risen’ (p. 16). To men and women ‘this part of the world must have been home, since
[their] kin had been living in these towns for a long time. Settled, farmer populations
had existed in… the Valley of Mexico by 4000 BC, and the possible ancestors of the
Maya had been in Belize about that long’ (p. 16). Back then, the human world was quite
small by our modern standards.
Litvak presents a reconstruction of the growth of the Mesoamerican ecumene
over time by means of maps that show the communication routes along which
influences spread, and the maximum size of the area covered by ‘civilized’ peoples in
each time period. During the Early Formative (ca. 1500-900 BC), for instance, the map
(Figure 3a) shows ‘the general line of Olmec influence that, by transporting goods
produced in one area to other places, was probably the critical factor in the
establishment of the Mesoamerican culture area’ (p. 17) In this map, West Mexico is
represented by only two sites, one in Colima and one in Michoacán, which appear as
isolated outposts.
After roughly one thousand years, the Mesoamerican map of the Classic period
(ca. AD 0-800) (Figure 3b) shows ‘the line of Teotihuacan influence that, stemming
from Teotihuacan’s control of the obsidian trade, came to dominate the exchange
network throughout the area. Teotihuacan’s rule was unchallenged until the Late
Classic’ (p. 42). During the Classic period in West Mexico, one arrow points from
central Mexico (where the city of Teotihuacan was located) to the west, and another to
the far north, where two outposts (in the modern state of Zacatecas) evidence the spread
of the Mesoamerican ecumene into the northern borderlands.
On the third map (Figure 3c), which pertains to the Postclassic period, several
arrows point to the location of one of many major centers in the west; namely,
Tzintzuntzan, the capital of the Tarascan Empire. The zigzag and broken arrows
indicate ‘the distribution of two types of pottery that were widely traded’, namely
Plumbate and Fine Orange (p. 62). This map illustrates the spread of the Mesoamerican
way of life throughout the ecumene in the latest phase of the pre-Conquest sequence.
Eventually the Aztec Empire came to control most of central and southern
Mesoamerica, but Aztec expansion toward the northwest was cut short by the
 26

Tarascans. By the Late Postclassic period, if not before, West Mexico had been fully-
incorporated into the Mesoamerican ecumene.
Content and Structure of this Book
This book is divided into eight chapters. Chapter I is the introduction to the general
subject of the book: West Mexico in the Mesoamerican Ecumene. This chapter consists
of three parts. In the first part I discuss the main debates and perspectives that have
evolved in Mesoamerican studies over time, from the earliest scholars in the 19th
century to the latest contributions, and how different authors have shaped our current
perceptions about the culture area we know as Mesoamerica. The second part of the
introduction is concerned with the Mesoamerican ecumene, that is to say the universe of
cultural and social interactions that coalesced into one of the major cultural areas of the
ancient world. In the third section of Chapter I, I explore the unique role played by West
Mexico in shaping the Mesoamerican ecumene as we understand it today.
In Chapter II, I present a history of archaeological research in West Mexico,
from the first explorers in the 19th century to the early 1990s. I divide this discussion in
two geographic-cultural areas: the first one pertains to the state of Michoacán, cradle of
the Tarascan Empire, and the neighboring lowlands of the Bajío in the state of
Guanajuato and environs. The second area runs along the Sierra Madre Occidental and
the Pacific coastal plains, and includes the modern states of Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and
Sinaloa. In this chapter, however, I did not attempt to produce an exhaustive assessment
of all archaeological research endeavors through time, since this would be too long for a
work of this scope. In order to better understand the development of archaeology in
West Mexico through time, I have established several periods somewhat arbitrarily.
These periods are linked to archaeology’s development in Mexico as a whole, and to
historical, cultural and political processes in the country.
Chapter III deals with the beginnings of culture in ancient West Mexico, from
the time of the first human occupants of the Paleoindian period in Middle America (ca.
15,000 BC) to the first examples of agriculture and settled villages in the Archaic period
(ca. 7000-1500 BC). First I present a brief discussion of West Mexico’s geographic and
cultural background. Secondly, I discuss the earliest known examples of human
occupation in the area under discussion; this is followed by a review of the first
examples of sedentary life in West Mexico and other areas of Mesoamerica and beyond.
 27

During the Formative 7 period (ca. 1500 BC-AD 300) the Mesoamerican
ecumene, including West Mexico, underwent a process of crystallization, as I discuss in
Chapter IV. At the start of the Formative we find small autonomous agricultural villages
established in certain privileged ecological areas of central and southern Mesoamerica.
In this chapter I present a short synopsis of the major cultural-historical processes in the
Mesoamerican ecumene in the Formative period, so the reader will understand the broad
cultural and historical context where our story takes place. After this, I deal with the
major cultural developments in Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit.
Until recently, there was very little knowledge about the Classic period (ca. AD
300-900) in West Mexico, compared to central and southern Mesoamerica. We see in
Chapter V how recent research is slowly shedding more light on cultural developments
in West Mexico during the period in question. In this chapter I present a summary of the
Classic period as it has been described for several areas of the western ecumene,
including a general discussion the level of interaction between West Mexico and the
cultures of central Mexico and points south. This topic has received more attention in
recent years that ever before, and this is reflected in Chapter V.
In the Early Postclassic period (ca. AD 900-1200), West Mexico became
intimately involved in the cultural and historical processes of the ecumene. In Chapter
VI, I discuss the role played by the Toltecs as ‘world shapers’, and how they touched
most of the Mesoamerican peoples, including West Mexico. This chapter is divided into
two parts: first, a discussion of urban life and various aspects of culture in Postclassic
central Mexico (Tula and Cholula) and southern Mesoamerica (the Mixtec area of
Oaxaca). This discussion explores the cultural and economic bases that enabled the
Toltecs and the Mixteca-Puebla peoples to travel to West Mexico and eventually to
foster strong cultural (and religious) ties with our region. In the second part I present an
analysis of the patterns of interaction between West Mexican cultures and their
neighbors from central Mexico and southern Mesoamerica during the Postclassic
period.
In Chapter VII the reader will find a discussion of the Tarascan Empire in the
Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530), including three main topics: (1) The Tarascan
culture and its main cultural, political, religious and economic aspects, as revealed by
archaeology and ethnohistory (including analogy with the Aztec Empire); (2) the Lake

7
The terms Formative, Classic, Postclassic, and others are used solely to mark different periods of Mesoamerican culture history,
with no implications of social or political complexity.
 28

Cuitzeo Basin as a key economic area of the Tarascan Empire; and, (3) trade, tribute
and transportation of strategic resources within the Tarascan Empire.
In Chapter VIII the reader will find the general conclusions to which I arrived
after writing this book. I also highlight here the priority areas for future research, and
the lessons that this book may hold for archaeologists, for other social scientists and for
the general public.

(a)

(b)

Figure 1. Map of Mesoamerica, indicating the territory occupied by the ecumene at the time of the
Spanish invasion in the 16th century: (a) major physiographic forms and rivers; (b) native linguistic
groups at contact period (adapted from Porter Weaver 1972: Map 1).
 29

Figure 2. West Mexico was integrated into the Mesoamerican ecumene in part because of the extensive
trade routes that crossed the western areas and linked central and southern Mesoamerica to the northern
frontier and the U.S. Southwest. Many trade goods were exchanged between the areas of the ecumene and
the northern periphery, such as turquoise (map courtesy of Phil Weigand).

(a)
 30

(b)

(c)

Figure 3. West Mexico in the Mesoamerican ecumene: (a) territorial expansion during the Preclassic
period; arrows show the general line of Olmec trade routes. Olmec cultural influence was one of the
critical factors in the establishment of the Mesoamerican ecumene, though West Mexico was virtually
devoid of contact with the Olmec; (b) in the Classic period, arrows show the line of Teotihuacan
influence that came to dominate the exchange network throughout the area. At least part of West Mexico
became involved in this trade structure; (c) Postclassic Mesoamerica: arrows indicate the distribution of
two types of pottery (Plumbate and Fine Orange) that were traded widely in the ecumene. The Aztecs
dominated most of central and southern Mexico, but were cut off to the west by the Tarascan Empire. By
the Late Postclassic period, if not before, West Mexico had been fully-incorporated into the
Mesoamerican ecumene (adapted from Litvak 1985: Figures 3, 10, and 22).
 31

CHAPTER II
HISTORY OF ARCHAEOLOGICAL RESEARCH IN WEST MEXICO

Archaeological research in West Mexico has a long history, from the earliest explorers
during the time of Spanish imperial domination (from the 16th to the19th centuries) to
the present. Here I offer a brief discussion of the main players and their achievements,
as well as their ideas and viewpoints, from the earliest figures to those of the late 20th
century. I divide this discussion in two geographic-cultural areas: the first pertains to the
state of Michoacán, cradle of the Tarascan Empire, and the neighboring lowlands of the
Bajío in Guanajuato; the second area runs along the Sierra Madre Occidental and the
Pacific coastal plains, and includes the modern states of Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and
Sinaloa. Here I will present a brief review of the most important archaeological
investigations carried out in West Mexico, from the earliest published sources I could
find to the ones that came out up to the late 1990s. This is not, however, an attempt to
produce an exhaustive assessment of all archaeological research endeavors through
time, since this would be too long for a work of this scope.
In order to better understand the development of archaeology in West Mexico
through time, I have established several, somewhat arbitrary, periods (Williams 1993)
linked to archaeology’s development in Mexico as a whole, and to historical, cultural
and political processes in the country (see Table 2).
Table 2. Major periods in the history of archaeological research in West Mexico.
Period Approximate dates Name of period 1
I 1880-1910 Descriptive
II 1910-1950 Historical-Classificatory
III 1950-1970 Explicative
IV 1970-1990 Recent

Period I: 1880-1910
I have called this the ‘descriptive period’ because in most cases the authors limited
themselves to providing descriptions of what they saw. We could also call this the
‘period of pioneers’ for this was when the first formal researchers appeared, though they
usually lacked background regarding the regions or cultures where they were working.

1
Name of periods taken from Willey and Sabloff (1980).
 32

Many of them were in a terra ignota in terms of archaeology, and this explains the rise
of many theories that may seem farfetched or even fantastic today. This period is
characterized by a ‘positivist’ attitude. During this time, many fundamental changes
took place in Mexican archaeology, although most contributions still came from
bibliographical research carried out in libraries. Fieldwork was more abundant than
before, but was still regarded as less important. This period drew to a close with a
reaction against grandiose theories based on weak evidence, and their replacement by
more modest hypotheses rooted in proven facts (Bernal 1980:142).
Using the same general time frame, Willey and Sabloff (1980) call the 1840-
1914 epoch ‘classificatory-descriptive’ to distinguish it from the previous period –called
‘speculative’—by a marked change in the attitude and approach of the principle
researchers and authors. However, the intellectual current that characterized the
speculative period did not come to a sudden end in 1840, for speculation would remain
an important ingredient in the literature for many more years. The classificatory-
descriptive period, as its name implies, was characterized by descriptions of
archaeological materials, primarily constructions and monuments, and rudimentary
classifications of these features (Willey and Sabloff 1980:34).
Period II: 1910-1950
During the first half of this period, Mexico was in the midst of an armed revolution,
while elsewhere in the world the First World War was raging. Both conflagrations
might lead us to assume that archaeology would have made no progress at all in Mexico
but, in reality, significant progress was made, including many achievements that still
have repercussions today (Bernal 1980:160). Those years witnessed the first
stratigraphic excavations conducted in the Basin of Mexico, undertaken by Manuel
Gamio, who excavated a pit in San Miguel Amantla, where he found a stratigraphic
sequence spanning three periods: ‘Archaic-Teotihuacan-Aztec’ (Bernal 1980:160). 2
This same scientific rigor and penchant for the systematic classification of
archaeological remains were also present in Michoacán, as we will see below.
Period III: 1950-1970
I have called this the ‘explicative period’ (Williams 1993) because during this time we
can discern a more analytical approach in Mesoamerican archaeology. Explanations are
increasingly focused on problems of cultural process as opposed to mere classification,

2
See Williams (2017:5-7) for a discussion of Gamio’s work, which was of momentous importance for the development of scientific
archaeology in Mexico.
 33

although, as we shall see, this was not entirely true in the archaeology of Michoacán and
other parts of West Mexico. Around this time, a seminal book by Willey and Phillips
(1958) made its appearance. It was entitled Method and Theory in American
Archaeology, and could be considered as illustrative of the cultural-historical approach
that came into vogue during this period. For Willey and Phillips, the phrase ‘cultural-
historical integration’ covers practically everything that archaeologists do in order to
organize their primary data: typology, taxonomy, the formulation of ‘archaeological
units’, and research on the relationships between these archaeological units and the
functional and environmental contexts. No less important for archaeologists was the
determination of the internal dimensions and external relationships of archaeological
units in space and time. For Willey and Phillips, cultural-historical integration was
comparable to ethnography with a temporal dimension. At this level of analysis, one
was not just asking what had happened in a given ancient culture, but also how or even
why it had occurred as it did. In other words, it was no longer enough to investigate
cultural and historical processes without regarding the causes of cultural change, which
were always the human groups and, therefore, existed within the social sphere (Willey
and Phillips 1958:5-6).
The cultural-historical approach, as applied by Willey and Phillips to New
World archaeology, enabled them to propose five stages or periods to understand the
development of pre-Hispanic indigenous cultures: Lithic, Archaic, Formative, Classic,
and Postclassic. These labels derived from the inspection of archaeological sequences
all over the Americas, although the authors mention that their method was strictly
comparative, and the resulting definitions were abstractions that described cultural
change over time in the native Americas. Hence, these stages were not formulations that
explained cultural change (p. 200). In the opinion of Willey and Phillips, explanation
had to be gained by examining the complex interaction among multiple factors of the
natural environment, the density of human groups, the psychology of groups and
individuals, and, finally, of culture itself (p. 200).
The explicative period has been characterized by an intellectual development
that began in the 1960s called the ‘New Archaeology’, a current generated by
anthropological archaeology as practiced by scholars who had been trained
simultaneously as social anthropologists and archaeologists. Their main concern was the
study of cultural process (Willey and Sabloff 1980:185). The New Archaeology was
imbued with a new optimism about the possibilities of explaining processes and a
 34

capacity to reach ‘laws of cultural dynamics’. Another attitude linked to this current
held that archaeology, by revealing and explaining cultural processes, could be helpful
not only to archaeologists and anthropologists, but to solving problems of the modern
world as well (p. 185).
Processual archaeology has been slow to permeate the intellectual milieu of
West Mexican research. In many cases, scholars here are just beginning to document
pre-Hispanic material culture and to survey and excavate ancient sites. Fieldwork in this
part of Mesoamerica still lags behind other regions, such as the Maya area, Oaxaca and
central Mexico, and it could be said that theory was also somewhat underdeveloped
during this period. These issues will be addressed in subsequent sections of this book.
Period IV: 1970-1990
Period IV deals with the last quarter of the 20th century. It is difficult to judge this
period with objectivity, since it involves situations and developments in archaeology
that in many cases are still ongoing. I have not attempted to include here all the research
projects conducted in this time frame, since they are much more abundant than in the
previous periods discussed above. For the sake of brevity, I only discuss a sample of
archaeological investigations that I believe are illustrative of archaeological research in
West Mexico at the end of the second millennium. Many of the most recent works
(from the 1990s onward) are used in the discussion of West-Mexican archaeology in
subsequent chapters of this book.
Archaeology has been practiced for several centuries in Mexico (Bernal 1980).
In fact, the first archaeological excavation in the New World with goals and methods
that differed from a mere ‘search for treasures’ was undertaken in 1675 by Don Carlos
de Sigüenza y Góngora, who excavated at Teotihuacan (Schavelzon 1983:121-122).
This belies the notion that Thomas Jefferson was the first person to excavate following
what we could call an ‘archaeological method’ in the New World (Willey and Sabloff
1980:28; Daniel 1981:41).
The development of archaeology over the centuries has not received much
attention from professional historians (or from archaeologists, for that matter),
especially in Mexico. Apart from some general works, such as Ignacio Bernal’s History
of Mexican Archaeology (1980), we lack an ample corpus of studies. It seems as if we
archaeologists have neglected our own history, which is a pity because the historical,
social, cultural, and even political, circumstances in which a certain archaeological
excavation or study took place in the past are as important for our understanding as the
 35

actual archaeological information provided by the research. Even the most outstanding
archaeologists of the past had prejudices, pre-conceived ideas, personal experiences and
interests –what we could call a subjective element– and we have to understand this if we
are to treat the past with justice (Reid 1991:195).
In order to make this chapter easier to read, I have divided it in two parts. The
first deals with archaeological research in Michoacán and adjacent regions, while Part 2
is devoted to Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and Sinaloa. This division is not entirely an
artificial construct adopted for the sake of convenience for, as we will see in the
following pages, there are important differences between Michoacán and the Bajío, on
the one hand, and the northwestern portions of West Mexico on the other.

Part 1. History of Archaeological Research in Michoacán

The region now occupied by the state of Michoacán is one of the most important areas
for Mesoamerican archaeology (Figure 4), since it witnessed major developments from
at least the Formative period (ca. 1500 BC-AD 300), while in the Postclassic (ca. AD
900-1520) Michoacán saw the rise to hegemonic power of the Tarascan Empire, one of
the few peoples in Mesoamerica to successfully resist the advances of the neighboring
Aztec Empire. However, in spite of Michoacán’s well-known historical and cultural
importance, archaeological investigations have not been abundant, especially in
comparison to other parts of Mesoamerica, such as the Maya area or central Mexico. 3
Period I: 1880-1910
One of the first archaeological excavations conducted in Michoacán was undertaken by
Nicolás León (1888) (Figure 5). León had this to say about Tzintzuntzan, the former
capital of the Tarascan Empire: ‘According to tradition these yácatas [i.e. pyramids]
were the palaces of the Tarascan kings, which were connected by a subterranean road
with the identical [pyramids] that are seen in Ihuatzio’ (p. 65). León continued his report
on excavations in Tzintzuntzan and other sites in the area by stating that a priest named
Ignacio Trespeña had practically demolished one of the mounds in Tzintzuntzan in
search of hidden treasures. In another mound of this archaeological site, the Englishman
Charles Harford conducted an excavation hoping to locate an entrance to the core of the
building, where he expected to find a great hall with ‘fabulous riches’, as well as an
underground passage to Ihuatzio (León 1888:68). León was quite skeptical about such
3
For a summary of archaeological research in Michoacán until the 1960s see Chadwick (1971); other important sources are:
Cabrera Castro (1989), Castro Leal et al. (1989), Michelet (1989), and Oliveros (1989). The history of archaeological investigations
in Michoacán is discussed by Macías Goytia (1988); see also Williams (1993).
 36

claims as hidden treasures and underground passageways: ‘We cannot understand how
in buildings of this nature there might be empty spaces or halls… About the
underground road to Ihuatzio, we do not believe it is likely to exist’ (p. 69). León goes
on to mention that in his opinion ‘these monuments were temples and also places of
defense or fortifications, rather than houses or dwellings’, and on the basis of the
distribution on the surface of the archaeological site, near the yácatas, of ‘house
foundations… idols, clay domestic utensils, copper and stone instruments’, he arrived at
the conclusion that ‘here were the dwellings or houses’ (p. 69).
Another early figure who was interested in the past of Michoacán was Bishop
Francisco Plancarte, who in 1889 posited the following questions about the Tecos, an
ethnic group who lived at the same time as the Tarascans: ‘Who were the Tecos?’ and
‘What role did they play in the ancient history of Michoacán?’ He answers his own
questions, but in a somewhat pessimistic fashion: ‘History has no answer for these
questions, but we may arrive at conjectures thanks to the scanty reports in the few
instances where they [i.e. the Tecos] are mentioned’. Plancarte adds that apart from
history it is convenient to study ‘comparative philology’, and ends by saying that ‘these
are the only sources we can study about this subject’ (Plancarte 1889:16). Something
illustrative of the mentality at the time is the fact that Friar Plancarte does not even
consider archaeological excavation as a means of solving some of the problems linked
to the ethnic group (or archaeological culture) under discussion.
At the end of the 1890s, Frederick Starr published one of the first reports about
pre-Hispanic stone sculpture in West Mexico. Starr’s short essay includes photos of
several anthropomorphic sculptures found in Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán. This work,
however, is of a merely descriptive nature, with no attempt to interpret the material
(Starr 1897).
At the end of the 19th century, the aforementioned Bishop Plancarte discovered
and excavated a site in the southern valley of Zamora, northwest of Tzintzuntzan. He
identified the excavated structure as a ‘Tarascan temple’, made a drawing of it and
attempted a reconstruction (Figure 6). Plancarte found 48 skeletons there, most of them
in a flexed position. In carrying out the excavation of the mound he found near its center
some ‘stone walls forming rooms, full of human skeletons with offerings… in many of
the vessels there were remains of plant substances that may have been used as food’. In
his exploration of a nearby mound, Plancarte discovered ‘some horizontal, parallel
layers made of ash and burned earth… without fragments of clay or anything else. This
 37

led me to believe that the monument was an altar, where great fires were lit’ (Plancarte,
cited in León 1903:413-415).
In 1903, Nicolás León published a hypothetical (and quite erroneous)
reconstruction of the ‘main temple of the Tarascan Indians of Pátzcuaro’ (1903:Plate 4
a), accompanied by a description of the edifice that included references found in ancient
documents, primarily the Relación de Michoacán, and other sources in the Archivo de
Indias in Seville, Spain (León 1903:406) (Figure 7). León also made a short description
of archaeological sites near Lake Zacapu, noting that there ‘one can see many yácatas
and the remains of other constructions on the surrounding hills… they usually are
pyramidal structures of 16 m in length, 6 m across and 3-5 m high, all surrounded by
walls and resting on platforms’ (p. 408).
At the same time León was working in Michoacán, British explorer Adela
Breton was one of the first people to devote attention to the pre-Hispanic cultures of
West Mexico. We will encounter Breton again in Jalisco, in the following section of this
chapter. About her travels in Michoacán Breton said that ‘my assistant Pablo Solorio
brought me a small, pretty collection of antiquities, this time from his own village
[Churumuco, Michoacán]… Virtually everywhere a little excavation uncovers objects
of shell, jadeite, good points of flint and obsidian, pots and great amounts of beads and
ornaments’ (Breton 1989a).
Another European explorer, perhaps one of the best known during this time
period, was the Norwegian Carl Lumholtz (1902, 1986). He spent many years travelling
around Mexico (in the 1890s), including the most remote areas of West Mexico and the
northern expanses of the country. He was mainly interested in gathering ethnographic
and archaeological data and materials, and was somewhat disappointed by the fact that
‘the Tarascans… give a lot of significance to ancient idols… when the Indians learned
about my intention to buy monos [i.e. figures] they used to hide them and denied their
existence’ (p. 361). However, elsewhere Lumholtz says that ‘it was not my goal to
acquire idols, but rather to see how the mounds were built’ (p. 361). On many
occasions, Lumholtz encountered fierce resistance from the local people, especially
Indians, who were opposed to the excavation of archaeological sites, although he
eventually managed to persuade them: ‘I had no trouble in getting permission to
excavate one of the smaller mounds, on condition that I would give the owner half of
what I found’ (p. 364).
 38

In Zacapu, Lumholtz excavated the so-called ‘palace of king Caltzontzin’, with

respect to which he made the following observations: ‘Almost right away we found
several skeletons… they were heaped together with no order… I collected over one
hundred skulls… many were artificially flattened. I was surprised by the small number
of objects found with the skeletons, not more than one dozen copper bells and some
beads’ (p. 415). In Tzintzuntzan, Lumholtz acquired ‘two sculptures made of volcanic
stone, both unequivocal representations of the figure Dr. Le Plongeon found in Yucatán
and called chacmool. One of them was unearthed in the town of Ihuatzio’ (p. 439).
A few years later, Julián Bonavit (1908) mentions figures of the same type as
those mentioned by Lumholtz. At a short distance from the town of Ihuatzio, in a place
known as the Plaza de Armas (actually a mound of great size), three large stone
sculptures were found: two of the chacmool type, and the third a great throne or table in
the shape of a coyote (Figure 8). According to Bonavit, the town’s inhabitants had a
certain ‘superstitious fear’ about those sculptures, which was revealed by what
happened when the figures were unearthed. The excavation finished late in the evening,
so they left the sculptures at the top of the mound until the next day, when they would
be moved to the court at Ihuatzio. However, several residents begged the researchers not
to leave the stones there, because they were afraid that they would escape at night!
Another story confirms that, in fact, there was great fear among the Indians towards the
‘idols’: the owner of the land where the stones had been found was opposed to their
removal, and the researchers later heard ‘from a trustworthy source’ that this was
because of the fear that rains would be scarce and the crops would be lost (Bonavit
1908:211).
Period II: 1910-1950
The first archaeological exploration at the important Formative Period site of
Chupícuaro, Guanajuato, was carried out in 1926. The Archaeological Directorate had
sent Professor Juan Palacios to survey the archaeological zone of Chupícuaro, where
‘the local people… excavate small hills [i.e. mounds] in the surrounding area, collecting
objects made of shiny fired clay, which were exhibited in their homes’ (Mena and
Aguirre 1927:55) (Figure 9). Professor Palacios surmised that the mounds were
artificial in nature, and calculated the total extent of the site at around ten hectares. He
collected several artifacts from the area and thought that they pertained to the Tarascan
culture (an error of several thousand years). Likewise, Mena and Aguirre (1927)
attributed Chupícuaro to Tarascan culture: ‘The morphology and decoration of the
 39

pottery we collected; its well-defined Tarascan identity at the collections of the National
Museum, are the basis of the claim that the new archaeological zone pertains to
Tarascan culture’ (p. 59). Mena and Aguirre provided the following description of the
Chupícuaro site, observing that it consisted of ‘a series of long, low mounds that seem
to be hand-made, because of their aspect and position’. Thanks to information provided
by the local people, and their own observations, the authors thought that ‘this is a
necropolis, in fact, in the mounds that have been opened up, human bones have always
appeared… skeletons surrounded by vessels and penates [household deities, or
figurines], all of them made of fired clay and usually painted’ (p. 56).
Few archaeological explorations were conducted in Michoacán between 1910
and the 1920s, but around 1930, Eduardo Noguera worked in the field with the goal of
increasing his knowledge of Tarascan pottery and enhancing the organization of
collections at the National Museum. Noguera’s study took place at Cerro Curutarán, a
hill near Jacona, Michoacán. The results of this work, however, were not very
encouraging, because the author found that ‘the all-but-complete absence of decorated
[pottery] fragments precludes a classification based on potsherd decoration… Likewise,
we were unable to perform a classification according to [vessel] shape, because of the
small size of the fragments’ (Noguera 1931:89-90).
In 1936, Wilfrido du Solier made a short description of an archaeological site –
supposedly a ‘fortified city’– that he visited southeast of Zacapu, where he found a
semi-circular monolith approximately 50 cm high, with a human face and arms sculpted
in relief (Du Solier 1936). A few years later, Alfonso Caso and Jorge Acosta conducted
excavations at Tzintzuntzan and Ihuatzio. In Tzintzuntzan work was limited to
‘removing the huge amount of rubble surrounding Yácata 5’. After two seasons of
fieldwork, the authors had a notion of the original shape of the yácata, as well as its size
and building method (Acosta 1939:85-87). Meanwhile, at the site of Ihuatzio, Caso and
Acosta ‘were lucky enough to find… a large-size idol carved in stone, of the type
usually called chac-mool’ with phallic attributes (p. 94). The finds at this site consisted
of several sculptures like the one just mentioned, as well as a table or altar in the shape
of a coyote (which may have been used as a throne). Caso (1938) made the following
remarks about these objects: ‘It is interesting to link the find of the three chac-mools
and the table-like coyote from Ihuatzio with the recent finds in the inner temple of the
Castillo at Chichén Itzá, because a chac-mool statue was found in this city in front of a
large stone tiger, with a flat top, in the shape of a table or altar…’ Caso goes on to state
 40

that ‘undoubtedly, both the coyote at Ihuatzio and the tiger at Chichén Itzá had
functioned as an altar’. Caso explained the animal represented in the table-like sculpture
by pointing out that ‘Ihuatzio means “coyote” in Tarascan; therefore, this must have
been the sacred animal of the inhabitants of this town’ (Caso 1938).
Shortly after Caso’s report cited above, Rubín de la Borbolla (1939) published
the results of his excavation of ‘Tarascan burials’ at Tzintzuntzan and Ihuatzio including
a classification of the different types of interment he found at those sites (see Table 3).
Table 3. Description of human burials excavated at Tzintzuntzan and Ihuatzio by
Rubín de la Borbolla (1939).
Type of burial Classification Location
Primary Individual Earth
Secondary Multiple Tomb
Fragmentary Radial Buildings
Incinerated Layered Funerary urns (pots)
Ashes Inside bowls

All the excavations conducted by Rubín de la Borbolla at Tzintzuntzan produced

considerable amounts of fragmentary human bones, in particular skulls and teeth. He
also found an ossuary, identified by the existence of a layer of human bones, some of
them completely incinerated, others partially-burned, and some intact. These
excavations also unearthed secondary burials, skulls with intentional deformations,
mutilated teeth, and bones with striated carvings. Rubín de la Borbolla (1939:106-199)
opined that the latter were not used as musical instruments, even though their shape
resembled the well-known human femurs used as rasping or scraping instruments in
other parts of Mesoamerica.
In 1941, Rubín de la Borbolla published another contribution based on his
archaeological work in Tzintzuntzan, which was now in its third season of fieldwork.
On that occasion, he carried out the following research program: (1) clear rubble from
yácata number 5 and draw a plan; (2) explore the interior of the same building; (3)
finish the exploration of building ‘B’, which had begun in the previous field season; (4)
explore and study the ossuary of the North Terrace; and (5) make stratigraphic pits and
trenches in order to study the pottery. He thought that building ‘B’ may have been used
as a true tzompantli (i.e. skull rack) (1941:13), or ‘at least as a deposit where human
 41

remains accumulated before incineration’. He further stated that the Relación de

Michoacán mentions the existence of ossuaries near temples, and shows ‘the yácatas
where they took the bones of those they sacrificed’. He ends by saying that ‘the
hypothesis that building ‘B’ was a true tzompantli is bolstered by the find of buried
skulls, and by the innumerable amount of skull fragments and teeth found upon
removing the earth and making the pits in that building’ (p. 15).
Another important contribution to Michoacán archaeology by Rubín de la
Borbolla is his study of Tarascan metallurgy. He published an important paper (1944)
where he mentions Caso’s research in Tzintzuntzan in 1937, when he found the burial
of a ‘lord’ or cacique [chieftain] with retainers in yácata 5. That find included
polychrome pottery and numerous copper needles, pins with bells attached, and objects
consisting of ‘a horizontal round or square bar, whose extremes… end in snake or lizard
heads, with spiral decorative motifs… [and] bells hanging on either side of these [bars]’
(Rubín de la Borbolla 1944:5). This author goes on to say that while these burials were
quite rich, gold was not as abundant as the 16th-century Spanish chroniclers would lead
us to believe. Copper, however, was quite abundant, and many copper items were
discovered under a coat of gold (p. 9). Rubín de la Borbolla states that indigenous
metalsmiths used the following techniques: hammering, laminating, smelting and
gilding. He also says that much of the metal the Spanish chroniclers saw adorning the
Tarascan lords consisted of copper with a superficial layer of gold. Supposedly, the
golden appearance was so perfect that the Spanish did not realize at first that many of
the treasures they collected were actually made of copper (p. 10).
Eduardo Noguera was responsible for significant archaeological research
performed during the early 1940s near Jiquilpan, in northern Michoacán, at a site called
El Otero, located just 3 km from the town. It consisted of ‘a series of archaeological
remains in the form of buildings, platforms, tombs and walls’ (Noguera 1944:37).
During excavations at this site, Noguera found ‘wide platforms bordering on a great…
plaza. By all appearances, this is a ball-game court… the corners… have a peculiar
rounded shape’ (p. 41).
In 1942, a landing strip was under construction on the outskirts of Jiquilpan
(Figure 10), but the area was surveyed by archaeologists before work on the airfield
began. What those archaeologists found was quite striking: first, one of the three
mounds was excavated and several rows of burials came to light (pp. 43-44); second,
Noguera had the following to say about the cultural relationships of the ancient
 42

inhabitants of this site: ‘Both the architecture and the ceramics… contrast with
“Tarascan” materials from elsewhere in Michoacán’. In his study of the pottery and
other archaeological materials, Noguera found that there was a certain similitude with
items from Jalisco and Colima. Furthermore, he thought that vessels with al fresco and
cloisonné decoration found in this excavation were similar in both shape and finish to
ceramics from Teotihuacan. In light of all this, Noguera wrote that ‘it is highly-likely
that there were relationships with remote areas of central and northern Mexico, before
the development of Tarascan culture’ (pp. 45-47). This idea was eventually proven to be
correct, as we shall see in later chapters.
Moving to the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, we see that near the town of Zinapécuaro
Hugo Moedano (1946) found a pre-Hispanic site on top of a hill, where he was able to
unearth 34 burials; some of them multiple interments, others with only a single
individual, and some primary (i.e., in correct anatomical order) though others were
secondary (i.e., the position of the skeletons had been altered prior to, or during, burial).
All those interments were accompanied by ceramic offerings. In addition to pottery,
other items found were metates (querns) and necklaces, as well as abundant obsidian
artifacts, both blades and cores (pp. 40-41). Moedano established three chronological
periods in Zinapécuaro: (a) an ancient period with polychrome ceramics (16 variants);
(b) a middle period characterized by pottery with negative (i.e., resist) decoration; and
(c) a recent period when both negative and al fresco decoration disappeared from the
pottery motifs (p. 46).
Moedano’s analysis of pottery from Zinapécuaro (pp. 43-49) showed that the
deeper strata held precursors of Coyotlatelco pottery (ca. 7th-8th centuries AD), while
the middle strata had pottery with negative decoration, similar to ceramics at
Tzintzuntzan and Tula (Hidalgo). The most recent strata produced pottery similar to
styles from the Toluca Valley (in central Mexico), which suggests cultural exchange
between the Tarascans and the people from the Toluca area between the 11th and 13th
centuries.
Meanwhile, archaeological research continued in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin.
During the fourth season of fieldwork at Tzintzuntzan (under the direction of Rubín de
la Borbolla), Ramón Gali (1946) made a detailed map of yácata 5 in order to study its
architectural details. Later excavations included the strategy of digging stratigraphic pits
in order to study pottery development. Finally, surface surveys were conducted to
identify the existence of barrios or quarters in that ancient city (p. 50).
 43

One of the few systematic archaeological explorations ever undertaken in the

tierra caliente or ‘hot lands’ of the Tepalcatepec River Basin in southwestern
Michoacán was conducted by Isabel Kelly in 1941, in the area around the city of
Apatzingán. There, Kelly (1947) discovered several archaeological sites, but was unable
to study them in depth. During the period in which Kelly worked in this area,
archaeological field surveying –indeed, simply moving from one part of the area to
another– was a slow and difficult process. Kelly had to travel on horseback or on foot
because of the difficult terrain and the absence of good roads. She wrote that her goals
were ‘modest and concrete: first, to define as completely as possible the cultural
complexes that existed around Apatzingán, on the basis of pottery and other features;
and second, to place such complexes in their chronological order’ (p. 19) (Figure 11).
By the end of her study, Kelly had worked at five archaeological sites: Capiral, Las
Delicias I, San Vicente, El Llano, and El Tepetate. According to Kelly, the
archaeological data obtained indicated that Apatzingán had been occupied by a
sedentary group of people who were mound-builders who had a relatively advanced
culture with well-developed ceramics and related arts. Kelly thought that the local
ceramic sequences did not reflect gradual cultural development in the area, so in her
view it seemed that the changes were due to outside stimuli, as was the case in the rest
of West Mexico (p. 184).
In 1946, the Mexican Society for Anthropology held its fourth Round Table
Meeting (Mesa Redonda) on anthropological problems in Mexico and Central America.
The meeting’s focus was on current research on the anthropology and history of West
Mexico (Figure 12). Many specialists were convened as presenters or discussants, and
the subjects and perspectives included anthropo-geography and physical anthropology,
archaeology, linguistics, ethnography and ancient history (i.e., ethnohistory), and
contemporary linguistics. The proceedings of this meeting were published in 1948,
including the report by Elma Estrada Balmori and Román Piña Chan (1948) on their
work at Chupícuaro. Their interpretations are a good example of the ideas then in vogue
to explain pre-Hispanic cultural remains that often had no archaeological context:
‘Undoubtedly, in the clay figurines we have the representation of the physical traits of
[the people from] Chupícuaro. These [items] try to represent the dead person [found in
the tomb]; each group has different personal traits’ (p. 40). According to these authors,
the clay figures ‘often portray scenes from life: we see one character accompanied by
four female figurines… suggesting that in this culture polygamy took place’ (p. 40).
 44

Estrada Balmori and Piña Chan based their study on a corpus of 173 burials, 4 which
included 23 tlecuiles (ritual hearths), that, they argued ‘undoubtedly had an important
role in funerary activities; we assume they were used as small altars in which sacrifices
were offered’ (p. 41).
Also in the Mesa Redonda volume, Rubín de la Borbolla (1948) presented a
synthesis of Tarascan archaeology. He attempted to define Michoacán’s pre-Hispanic
culture, which in his view included the following traits: (a) monumental architecture
(so-called ‘pyramids’) with rectangular or round structures, or a combination of these
two geometric forms. Rubín de la Borbolla noted an absence of lime and mortar, stucco
floors, and other typical Mesoamerican traits. Instead, he describes a building system
that consisted of ‘piled-up rocks’ which formed the core of buildings; (b) characteristic
pottery shapes, like the stirrup-spout vessel; wide-mouthed jars and ‘strip handle’ bowls
with diagonal walls and bell-shaped or spiral supports, or shaped like human or tiger
legs. Resist or negative paint is common, consisting of animal and human shapes, and
geometric designs, among others; (c) the widespread use of clay pipes for smoking
tobacco; (d) the finding of a recumbent anthropomorphic stone sculpture, or chacmool;
(e) other stone sculptures (usually of large size) with characteristic shapes and subject
matter; (f) some stonework in jade and other similar green stones (i.e., turquoise), and a
well-developed obsidian industry showing a high level of sophistication and dexterity;
(g) metalwork in copper, bronze, gold and silver, including techniques such as lost-wax
and gilding; and (h) post-burial cremation and carving of human bones producing
striated markings.
Based on his archaeological investigations in Michoacán, Rubín de la Borbolla
(p. 30) proposed three cultural horizons for this part of Mesoamerica: an Upper
Tarascan horizon that pertained to the Tarascan Empire, of short duration,
beginning at an undetermined point in time and ending with the Spanish conquest. This
period was preceded by a Middle-Tarascan period, also short-lived. The earliest time
frame pertained to the ‘Lower Lacustrine Horizon’, of unknown antiquity and undefined
affinity to the Tarascan people per se. Rubín de la Borbolla was not sure whether this
should be called ‘pre-Tarascan’ or ‘early Tarascan’. Pedro Armillas (1948:33)
commented on Rubín’s ideas, stating that he should avoid using ethnic terminology
such as ‘Tarascan’ to name archaeological phenomena.
4
In another publication, Estrada Balmori (1949:79-80) mentions 240 burials found on a hill called El Rayo, where ‘80 great pits’
were excavated. That excavation focused on individual burials, noting the position of the skeleton and the pottery offerings. In
general, the emphasis was on gathering as much information as possible to document ancient funerary customs.
 45

Since 1940, Gordon Ekholm had objected to the fact that the label ‘Tarascan
area’ was still being applied to the whole of West Mexico during the 1940s,
encompassing the region covered by the modern states of Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima,
and Nayarit, as well as parts of Guanajuato and Zacatecas. Ekholm suggested changing
such terminology, pointing out that archaeologists named this area ‘Tarascan’ for the
sole reason that ‘artifacts in the collections of the whole area appear to be similar to
those from Michoacán… this inclusive and misleading use of the name “Tarascan” no
doubt will have to be changed once we know the archaeology of the region better’
(Ekholm 1940:320). The issue of what was meant by the term ‘Tarascan’ in West
Mexican archaeology was later addressed by Robert H. Lister (1948, 1949). In his
excavations at Cojumatlán, Michoacán (on the shores of Lake Chapala), Lister set out to
solve what he called the ‘Tarascan problem’; in other words, he strove to answer the
question of just what it was that archaeologists meant by this term. Echoing Ekholm, he
thought that the cultural-ethnic designation was applied indistinctly to all archaeological
manifestations in Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and Sinaloa, disregarding the
actual provenience and context of artifacts.
A second task that Lister established for his research was localizing a route of
communication or ‘migration’ between the highlands of central Mexico and the coast of
northwestern Mexico, along the Pacific Ocean. Both Kelly and Ekholm had indicated to
Lister that ‘on the highlands of West Mexico, particularly in Jalisco, southern Nayarit
and the Lake Chapala area, there could be a link that connected the western coast with
the central highlands’ (Lister 1949:10).
In the published report of his work in Cojumatlán, Lister notes that he could add
very little to the questions inherent in Tarascan archaeology. Nor could he establish any
relationship between his finds at Cojumatlán and materials from such sites as
Tzintzuntzan and Chupícuaro (the latter was still thought to be a Tarascan site). Lister
concludes by stating that ‘it is likely that this area [i.e., Cojumatlán] had no Tarascan
influence during the village’s period of occupation’ (Lister 1948:26).
Period III: 1950-1970
During this period, scientific archaeology was still in its infancy in Michoacán (as well
as the rest of West Mexico), as is evident in the chapter entitled ‘Archaeological
Synthesis of Michoacán and Adjacent Regions’ published by Robert Chadwick in the
Handbook of Middle-American Indians. There Chadwick (1971) points out the lack, at
that time, of any general synthesis of Michoacán archaeology. This situation was due, at
 46

least in part, to the fact that most of the work had been performed at sites with only one
occupation period, and by different groups of scholars over some four decades of
fieldwork. Chadwick said that those ‘random excavations’ had produced a variety of
archaeological styles, each one with restricted distribution, which could be significant
from a culture-historical perspective, or could simply be attributed to inadequate
documentation. Therefore, correlating the archaeological phases in the different
chronological sequences was a daunting task, perhaps even an impossible proposition.
Chadwick also complained about the lack of C-14 dates (he was writing in the late
1960s), and lamented that the cultural relationships suggested by authors were tenuous
in some cases, and questionable in others. Finally, Chadwick pointed out that during
that period (the first half of the 20th century), the extant historical data regarding the
Tarascans was the only aspect of research that allowed for sociological analysis
(Chadwick 1971:660).
Lister’s views on archaeological research in Michoacán during this time
underline the fact that West Mexico lagged behind the rest of Mesoamerica in terms of
fieldwork and theoretical contributions, though we shall see that there were exceptions
to this situation. One of the first research projects in Michoacán that had a real
interdisciplinary approach was Donald Brand’s (1960) work on the coastal area and
neighboring regions. Brand was assisted in his fieldwork (conducted in 1950-1951) by a
group of students and scholars from the University of New Mexico interested in a broad
range of topics: history and government, race and language, religious history and
organization, demography, settlements and land ownership, natural history, geology,
paleontology and the physiographic landscape, botany, and zoology. Brand’s study
includes an archaeological appendix penned by José Corona Núñez (1960).
Corona Núñez’s work on the coast of Michoacán included the towns of
Coalcomán, Coahuayana, San Vicente and La Peña, among others. This research was
limited in most cases to collecting surface material (potsherds) and acquiring pots and
other items (and information) from local inhabitants. No excavation was attempted due
to time constraints. Corona Núñez (1960) reported on several archaeological sites,
including a large one in the town of Coahuayana, consisting of a series of elongated
mounds. Approximately one mile from this town there was a circular mound 20 m in
diameter surrounded by three lower, smaller mounds. Corona’s report mentions many
archaeological sites with large mounds that had never been documented. Pre-Hispanic
pottery was abundant in the coastal area, including potsherds of Tarascan affiliation
 47

with white-on-red decoration, pipes, spindle whorls, and probably copper bells.
Ceramics of ‘Toltec style’ and others similar to Colima pottery are also mentioned (p.
379).
One of the scholars who we could say was ‘ahead of his time’ during this period
was George M. Foster (1960), an anthropologist who carried out what may be the first
truly ‘ethnoarchaeological’ (though at the time this word was not as widely used as it is
today) research in Michoacán, if not Mesoamerica. Foster addressed several questions
of relevance for archaeologists based on his own ethnographic research in Tzintzuntzan:
‘How long does a pot last in primitive and peasant societies?’ and ‘How many clay
vessels does a housewife have in these communities?’ (p. 608). Foster discovered five
factors that may have affected the ‘life expectancy’ of clay pots: (1) their basic
hardness; (2) the use given to them; (3) the mode of use (for instance, if a pot is used for
cooking on the floor or on some other kind of surface); (4) causes for breakage (the
most common being children and ‘accidents’ in the household); and (5) the cost of a
pottery item (the lower the price, the less care will be shown in handling them). Foster’s
research is presented as a contribution to archaeological method and theory, using
techniques of ethnographic observation to address problems of archaeological
interpretation. This approach is still not fully-exploited in Mesoamerican archaeology
(see discussion in Williams 2017: Chapter II).
The border area between the states of Michoacán and Guerrero –the region along
the Balsas River basin– is one of the less well-documented archaeological areas of
Mesoamerica. In the 1960s, there were several large-scale development projects –
primarily dams for irrigation and generating electricity– that threatened to destroy the
archaeological remains that were known or assumed to exist in the region. In the face of
such a threat, the National Institute of Anthropology and History (Instituto Nacional de
Antropología e Historia, INAH) decided to undertake an archaeological salvage
program involving the area’s archaeological sites and other features. In 1964,
archaeological salvage work began at El Infiernillo, an area straddling parts of
Michoacán and Guerrero that would soon be covered by the waters of a dam (Aguirre et
al. 1964:29). During the months of May and July 1963, preliminary work was carried
out, together with a few weeks of fieldwork, which consisted in making a record of each
site, drawing sketch maps, taking photos and collecting samples of surface material. It
was not feasible to study all the sites found during the survey, so in the end a sample
consisting of 18 sites –out of a total of 104 in the study area– was excavated, yielding
 48

120 structures and 251 burials (p. 29). The study of all the materials collected there
showed that this area of Michoacán and Guerrero was occupied during relatively late
times (ca. AD 700), and was culturally-associated with other areas of West Mexico,
such as northern Jalisco and southwestern Zacatecas, as well as Colima and Nayarit.
Although the Tarascans were not well-represented, there were indications that
metallurgy appeared relatively early —before AD 900 (p. 31).
Another archaeological salvage operation linked to dam construction in the
general area of the Balsas River Basin was conducted around La Villita, close to El
Infiernillo. That archaeological survey covered 70% of the area that would be flooded
by the dam on both sides of the Balsas River (González and Medina 1966). A total of 72
archaeological sites were found, with an abundance of grindstones and metal objects,
the latter unearthed by local looters (pp. 10-11). It is interesting to note that written
accounts from the colonial era mention the existence of many towns in the area, which
was contested by the neighboring Tarascan and Aztec empires; however, the remains of
those towns were not found by the archaeologists during the ground survey (p. 12).
Six sites were excavated at La Villita, four on the Michoacán side and two on
the Guerrero side of the river. In addition to those excavations, archaeological samples
were taken from 68 sites, and all the sites identified were surveyed and mapped (Litvak
1968). Among the most interesting finds were several kilns, some of which were
apparently used for pottery manufacture (pp. 28-29).
Returning to the Lerma River Basin, we find that in 1969 Jay Frierman edited
the definitive report on the pottery from Chupícuaro. This study is based on an
extensive corpus: a collection of archaeological remains (mostly pottery) housed at the
University of California at Los Angeles. It was donated to the University by Hollywood
actress Natalie Wood, who apparently purchased the ceramic vessels and figurines from
the looters of the site (Frierman 1969). This book appeared after the excavations at the
Chupícuaro site (which was eventually covered by the waters of a dam) conducted by
Estrada Balmori, Piña Chan (discussed above) and Muriel Porter, between 1946 and
1947 (Porter 1956, 1969). Alas, a good part of the abundant materials found in the
tombs at this site, which pertain to the Late Formative period, was excavated illegally
and sold to collectors before the archaeologists arrived on the scene; something all too
common in West Mexico and other parts of the country.
In his study of the geographical distribution of the ‘Chupícuaro cultural
tradition’, Harold McBride (1969) mentions that there is sufficient ceramic evidence
 49

(pots and figurines) to postulate an extensive cultural tradition that covered much of
western and central Mexico from 500 BC to the time of Christ (p. 33). According to
McBride, the southernmost area with evidence of Chupícuaro materials is the site of
Gualupita, Morelos, while the ceremonial center of Cuicuilco was the most important
site where the Chupícuaro tradition was identified. The area of dispersal of this
distinctive pottery style included, apart from south-central Guanajuato, the modern-day
states of Guerrero, Zacatecas, Aguascalientes, northern Jalisco and the coastal area of
Colima and Michoacán (pp. 40-41). The role of Chupícuaro in West Mexican prehistory
is discussed at length in subsequent chapters of this book.
Moving forward in time, we see that another momentous find pertaining to
burial patterns of the Formative period took place at the site of El Opeño, near Jacona,
in northern Michoacán. Eduardo Noguera had discovered the now-famous tombs at El
Opeño in 1938. Around 1970, a looted tomb had been discovered there, and this led
archaeologists from the INAH to excavate several trenches in search of more tombs.
Eventually, additional tombs were discovered, and much material came to light (see
discussion of Period IV, below). An early date was assigned to these finds: ca. 1500 BC
(Arturo Oliveros, personal communication, 1992; see also Oliveros 1974). 5
Period IV: 1970-1990
One of the first contributions to Michoacán archaeology to appear in this period was
Marie K. Freddolino’s doctoral dissertation (1973). Freddolino attempted to place the
‘pre-Tarascan’ period in a chronological framework at Lake Zacapu and to analyze the
usefulness of the Relación de Michoacán (Alcalá 2008) as a source for historical
interpretation. Using archaeological and ethnohistorical data, Freddolino built a model
of the Tarascan social system, and attempted to explain how it was sustained. The
information from the Relación de Michoacán that was selected for analysis was the
supposed large-scale migration toward the Zacapu Lake area during the time the
Tarascans allegedly arrived there (ca. AD 1200). The author did not find a break in the
developmental sequence that would indicate such an ‘invasion’, and so arrived at the
following conclusions: (1) the narrative of the Relación de Michoacán describes the
movements of a clan or lineage; (2) the Tarascans were already in Michoacán by AD
1200; and (3) the concept of a ‘pre-Tarascan’ period should be discarded. This last point
is not at all valid, as we will see later.

5
Mountjoy has recently mentioned that the most recent C-14 dates obtained from El Opeño suggest that this site was used as a
cemetery between ca. 1247 and 1023 BC (Mountjoy 2015).
 50

We now return to the El Opeño site, mentioned in the previous section, where
we find that Arturo Oliveros arrived in 1970 to continue the archaeological excavations
that Noguera had begun in the late 1930s. Oliveros found three tombs, two of them in
pristine condition and one that had been looted before his arrival. The cultural materials
that Oliveros found inside the tombs turned out to be quite important, for they included
pottery with resist (or negative) decoration, and anthropomorphic figurines similar to
the ones known as types ‘C’ and ‘D’ in the central Mexican Highlands, some depicting
what may be ball-players. The tombs also contained green stone beads, a small ‘yoke’
made of basalt, and conch shells from the Caribbean (Oliveros 1974). Also noted by
Oliveros was the shape of the tombs, which recalls the ‘shaft-tombs’ found in Jalisco,
Colima, and Nayarit during later periods.
As we have seen, the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin has been one of the most important
areas for the development of Michoacán archaeology. This lake basin is where the city
of Tzintzuntzan, the seat of the Tarascan Empire, is located, but it had never been
analyzed in depth until Helen P. Pollard made a study of pre-Hispanic settlement
patterns, focusing on ancient Tzintzuntzan’s urban landscape. Pollard (1980) published
an article discussing the settlement patterns in the protohistoric settlements of the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin –Tzintzuntzan, Ihuatzio, Pátzcuaro and Erongarícuaro– as well as the
nearby Lake Zacapu Basin. Pollard states that the Tarascan state, unlike many cultures
in central and southern Mesoamerica, did not participate fully in the Mesoamerican
urban tradition, as Tzintzuntzan was the only truly urban settlement. According to
Pollard, the Tarascan Empire was characterized by a series of ‘central places’ and
specialized sites (for example markets), in a pattern that does not adhere to other urban
manifestations in Postclassic Mesoamerica.
Pollard (1980) further adduces that ‘although the capital of the Tarascan state…
was in fact an urban settlement, it appears unique in its size and complexity within the
Tarascan cultural sphere’. According to her, Tzintzuntzan was ‘small, relatively
unplanned and spatially undifferentiated compared with other contemporary cities in
central Mexico’. This fact leads Pollard to suggest that ‘there was no urban tradition
within pre-Hispanic Tarascan culture… urban settlements appear late in the
development of Tarascan culture… and… they are… highly administrative in function
and associated with the emergence and evolution of the protohistoric Tarascan state’ (p.
693). To sum up, Pollard’s research has shown that the Tarascan polity was
characterized by a complex, overlapping network of central places with numerous
 51

specialized settlements. This pattern constitutes a unique source of information for

understanding the diversity in the urban tradition of the Mesoamerican ecumene during
the Postclassic period.
In the same period discussed above, Piña Chan and Kunaki Oi (1982) published
the results of their research at Tingambato, a Classic-period site near the modern city of
Uruapan. The research goals of this archaeological project were to make a general
survey of the Tingambato Valley and nearby areas, and an in-depth survey of the core
area around Tingambato itself. This would allow for the elaboration of a detailed map of
the archaeological site under study to determine the total area of ancient human
occupation and analyze the settlement patterns. Piña Chan and Oi also carried out an
intensive exploration of the ceremonial center and other nearby sites, oversaw the
conservation of excavated structures, and excavated stratigraphic pits to devise a
chronology for the site. Among the most important finds at Tingambato, a ball-game
court was discovered during the first field season, and a tomb in the following one.
Meanwhile, Pollard continued her work on Tarascan archaeology and
ethnohistory in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. In 1983, she published a book together with
Shirley Gorenstein, called The Tarascan Civilization: A Late Prehispanic Cultural
System (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983). The goals of that book were to describe the
specialized institutions of the Protohistoric Tarascans (ca. AD 1450-1530) and define
and characterize the solutions given by this people to the problems inherent in the
control and management of social differentiation, specialization and increasing
institutional scale. The main contribution of this book is a detailed discussion of several
aspects of Tarascan culture on the eve of the Spanish conquest. This information is
indispensable to both archaeologists and ethnohistorians doing research in the area,
because the authors discuss what they call the ‘Protohistoric cultural system’, and dwell
on the natural environment of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, settlements and population up
to the early 20th century, the indigenous diet in the Protohistoric period, and local
resources and general productivity in the pre-Hispanic period.
Gorenstein (1985) also made a significant contribution to the archaeological
literature: a study of Acámbaro, an ancient settlement on the Tarascan-Aztec frontier.
This report was based on archaeological and ethnohistorical data, as the author was
interested in how the Tarascan state solved the problem of maintaining its hold on its
sprawling territory. Her answer is that this was achieved through military control of the
imperial frontiers (p. 5). Gorenstein’s fieldwork was geared toward identifying on the
 52

ground the sites mentioned in the extant historical sources (primarily from the 16th
century), as well as describing their physical characteristics and location in relation to
the land and aquatic communication routes. Apart from the use of ethnohistorical
information, Gorenstein’s archaeological survey relied on maps and aerial photography,
while the archaeological sites and their surrounding area were covered on foot. This
extensive study of the Acámbaro area was focused on the political and cultural
processes of the border between Tarascans and Aztecs, a military-political frontier, that
may contribute to understanding the political systems of both empires.
It is a well-known fact that obsidian was one of the most important materials for
pre-Hispanic peoples throughout the Mesoamerican ecumene. Michoacán was blessed
by an abundance of obsidian deposits, which were exploited in ancient times. Research
on obsidian procurement and production and the exchange of nodules, tools and other
artifacts (for instance ear spools, ritual figures and adornments, etcetera) has been
undertaken in many areas within this part of West Mexico. Veronique Darras (1987)
worked in Zináparo, northern Michoacán (Zináparo means ‘place of obsidian’ in
Tarascan), near La Piedad, and in Purépero, near Zacapu. By means of a study of trace
elements in the obsidian, Darras was able to identify the geological deposits from which
the artifacts came (Darras and Rodriguez 1988), isolate the villages where the obsidian
tools were used in daily activities, and analyze the distribution systems at regional and
supra-regional levels. After a survey of the study area, Darras (1987) made a
morphological-functional classification of the obsidian concentrations found in the
field, which she divided into five categories: (1) natural sources of procurement; (2)
underground procurement areas (galleries or chambers); (3) underground procurement
areas associated with workshops; (4) production areas in the open, associated with
workshops; and (5) isolated workshops (p. 77).
In addition to obsidian, another distinctive feature of the Tarascan state was the
large-scale production of metal artifacts (copper, bronze, silver, gold), which had many
uses, from the merely functional (axes, adzes, needles, and so on) to the ritual and
symbolic (figurines, bells) (Hosler 1985, 1994a). Pollard (1987) holds that metal objects
were key elements for the political and ritual symbolism of the Tarascans, but metal
artifacts also served as social markers of elite status, as sacred objects indispensable for
religious ceremonies, and as elements of wealth that were easy to store and transport.
The production of metal objects was dispersed throughout the Tarascan territory. In
addition to archaeological information, Pollard has used several documents from the
 53

16th century, such as Minas de cobre (Warren 1968), the Relaciones geográficas
(Acuña 1987), and the Relación de Michoacán (Alcalá 2008), to produce a coherent
picture of the role that metallurgy played in the native cultural system in Michoacán
during the Protohistoric period.
According to Pollard (1987), ‘the rapid territorial expansion of the Tarascan
state between AD 1350 and 1450 provided a direct means of increasing the access of the
emerging elite to metal goods, primarily in the form of conquest booty and tribute.
Metal jewelry [was] used as insignia of social status and public ritual’. It was also
‘associated with political power’ (p. 750). Mining and metal production became ‘to
some extent a state industry by the 16th century… the two zones of most active gold
and silver mining… the southeast and far west, were on the most active military
frontiers of the territory’. Pollard found that ‘metal goods… were measures of royal and
state political power. They were… basic material expressions of political ideology and
therefore necessary for the maintenance of the prevailing social and political order’ (p.
750).
The Tarascan area is traversed by the Lerma River Basin, one of the major
geographical features in West Mexico. The southern part of the Lerma Basin was
studied by Faugere (1988) in an attempt to understand the pre-Hispanic occupation of
this frontier area, located in the present-day limits of the states of Michoacán and
Guanajuato. According to Faugere (1988), historical sources suggest that this river basin
functioned as the borderland between the Tarascan Empire and the territory of the so-
called Teochichimecas, a nomadic group of people who occupied the region shortly
before the Spanish conquest (early 1530s) (p. 137). Faugere’s archaeological survey
found 54 sites, 39 of which pertain to sedentary cultures, while the rest belong to what
she calls the ‘nomadic tradition’. Some of the sedentary sites are quite large, with
several mounds, ball-game courts, and ceremonial areas with yácatas (temple
pyramids). Other sites are of smaller size, apparently agricultural villages that may
contain Tarascan pottery and metal objects. The ‘nomadic tradition’ is represented by
sites with rock paintings (p. 148). In short, what Faugere found amounts to the
interaction of two kinds of culture: on the one hand, a sedentary social entity with sites
distributed throughout the fertile valleys and, on the other, the wandering Chichimecs,
with sites located in narrow gullies with plentiful fauna and water (p. 149).
Not all archaeological studies in Michoacán have been produced as part of
planned efforts to increase our knowledge about ancient cultures. Salvage archaeology
 54

has been an important reason for conducting fieldwork, as we have seen in the case of
dam building and other such large-scale construction projects. Urban sprawl has also
been a factor in the destruction of archaeological sites. In 1975, several plots of land
were sold to developers in order to make a subdivision in a place called Loma Santa
María, in the southern suburbs of Morelia, the state capital. However, as construction
work began, many pre-Hispanic buildings came to light, and the work had to be stopped
(Manzanilla 1988). The archaeological site discovered there consisted of an
architectonic complex with three construction stages, including walls of the type known
as talud-tablero, an architectural style of Teotihuacan origin. Other finds include
Chupícuaro-style figurines and pottery (p. 153). According to Manzanilla (1988), the
site was occupied during the Classic period. While it shows a local tradition, there is
also evidence of contact with the Basin of Mexico, including pottery from Teotihuacan
(p. 155).
The discovery of Teotihuacan’s presence in Michoacán is not unique to the case
just mentioned in Morelia. Not far from there, the Lake Cuitzeo Basin was studied by
INAH archaeologists in the 1980s. Their work included excavations at the site of Tres
Cerritos (Macías Goytia and Vackimes 1988). The site’s name alludes to three mounds,
and it also has what appear to be two sunken plazas. In the center of Mound 2 the
archaeologists found a tomb consisting of an entryway and four funerary chambers
oriented toward the four cardinal directions. Unfortunately, the tombs had been looted,
but in Mound 3 a similar –but pristine– tomb was located. Inside this tomb the
excavators found several burials in each one of the four chambers, with offerings such
as beads made of brown clay, with engravings and stucco, two plaques made of nacre
shell, and a necklace made of small conch shells. Forty-eight vessels were found,
primarily tripod bowls, as well as mosaics made of worked shell, jade plaques and
approximately five thousand beads made of shell, bone, jade, turquoise and rock crystal.
The excavators also found a pectoral made out of a cut conch-shell with jade inserts that
showed remains of red stucco. Finally, at the entrance to the tomb Macías and
Vackimes found a green stone mask, clearly of Teotihuacan style (pp. 163-164).
The Center for Mexican and Central-American Studies (CEMCA), an
archaeological research group sponsored by the French Embassy in Mexico, began a
long-term archaeological research project in the Zacapu Lake Basin in northern
Michoacán (Arnauld et al. 1988). This archaeological investigation started in the early
1980s, and has produced a good many publications, salient among them the volume:
 55

Arqueología de Las Lomas en la cuenca lacustre de Zacapu, edited by Charlotte

Arnauld et al. (1993). This book consists of six chapters: (1) The present natural
environment in the Zacapu Basin and the Las Lomas archaeological site; (2) Recent and
ancient dynamics in the landscape of Las Lomas; (3) The archaeological research
(1983-1986): goals, methods, and operations; (4) Results of the survey and sounding;
(5) The funerary complexes; (6) The cultural complexes of Las Lomas.
In pre-Hispanic times, the natural promontories locally known as ‘las lomas’
(hills or mounds) consisted of a cluster of islands and peninsulas that emerged from a
lake or sprawling marsh area. The lake was drained away around 1900, and nowadays
trucks and cars cross the dusty roads in the area where canoes used to crisscross the
waters of the lake and marshes. When the CEMCA Michoacán Project was launched in
1983, the north-central area of the state was virtually unknown in archaeological terms.
In fact, back then much of West Mexico was still seen as an isolated area, far from the
core of Mesoamerican cultural evolution, and virtually devoid of anything remarkable in
its past. However, as the pre-Hispanic cultures in regions like Lake Zacapu became
better known, a new perspective began to evolve, albeit slowly. As we shall see later in
this book, the excavations at Zacapu have produced cultural materials of unsurpassed
complexity and beauty.
The archaeological research carried out by the CEMCA team in Zacapu has
made many important contributions to our knowledge of the past in this region. The
excavations around the former lake and the surrounding malpaís (badlands) of the
Zacapu basin produced new C-14 dates (see discussion in Chapter IV) that led to the
elaboration of a new evolutionary and chronological scheme for this part of Michoacán.
According to Arnauld and her co-authors, thanks to this new information it is now
possible to speak of the origins of Tarascan civilization, for we can say with certainty
that the ancient Tarascans originated in Michoacán, and do not have to look for their
‘roots’ elsewhere in Mesoamerica. In fact, the archaeological excavations conducted at
Las Lomas discovered a long sequence of human occupation, going back to one century
before the Christian era. At the time of publication (1993), this was one of the earliest
C-14 dates for this part of Michoacán.
Arnauld et al. tell us in this book that, according to the Relación de Michoacán
(Alcalá 2008), the ethnic groups that came to occupy the lake region of Zacapu and
Pátzcuaro in antiquity found people around the shores and on the islands, who spoke the
same language as they did (i.e., Tarascan). This implies a certain cultural continuity
 56

between so-called ‘pre-Tarascan’ groups and the new arrivals. This link across time has
been corroborated by archaeological discoveries; for instance, the pottery at Las Lomas,
which shows features that may be the precursors of known Postclassic styles.
The sites in and around the Zacapu marsh area were probably occupied during
the first eight centuries of the Christian era, after which they were virtually abandoned.
At the time this book appeared it was not clear whether people lived there full-time in
towns and hamlets, or went there from another area just to carry out specialized
activities (such as fishing, hunting, and gathering lake resources). There is an abundance
of funerary remains at Las Lomas (i.e., burials and offerings), which led the authors to
believe that the sites had a ritual-funerary orientation. On the other hand, it is possible
that the people who came here to honor the dead also knew how to exploit the many
natural resources in the lake and surrounding marsh area (see Williams 2014a for a
discussion of the aquatic lifeway in Zacapu and elsewhere in Michoacán).
Upon excavating at Las Lomas, archaeologists found that Loma Alta, the largest
site, consists of anthropic materials; that is, artificial fills supported by dozens of meters
of contention walls. Loma Alta is a unique site, a town or ceremonial center of
exceptional importance in the sociopolitical and religious realm. The construction
methods employed by the ancient inhabitants suggest the mobilization of a large and
skillful work force. Another striking feature at Las Lomas is the ceramic tradition,
which shows great quality and technical knowledge, as well as a complex iconography
that was never surpassed during later phases, not even by the Tarascans themselves.
There was a certain ambiguity in the archaeological data obtained at Las Lomas
in that period, because archaeologists had not found cultural remains that proved
beyond any reasonable doubt that a substantial population was living there, and most of
the excavated contexts are of a funerary nature. One possible interpretation would be
that most people lived in settlements around the marshes or in the higher parts of the
terrain, coming to places such as Loma Alta only to bury their dead. According to the
authors, this apparent bias is common in West Mexico, since from the Formative period
onwards, research in Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit has documented a
disproportionally high percentage of burial contexts as opposed to habitation sites.
Arnauld and her co-authors (1993) report an unusual funerary custom at Loma
Alta, one unknown up to that time in West Mexico, and apparently in the rest of
Mesoamerica as well, for they found skeletons that had been pulverized, cremated at
high temperature, and put inside pottery urns placed in pits. A total of 31 vessels were
 57

found (28 urns and three semi-spherical bowls), from which the excavators extracted
more than 100 kg of ash, produced by pulverizing and cremating bone. The cremation
probably took place in kilns rather than open-air fires, but it was not possible to tell
whether these were human or animal remains, or both.
The French archaeological team at CEMCA has published many books and
articles on their research activities in Michoacán since Arqueología de Las Lomas. The
review of this tome by Williams (1995a) ends with the following words: ‘The book
discussed here fills a void in our knowledge about Michoacán archaeology. This is a
useful book for archaeologists working in West Mexico, as well as our colleagues
working elsewhere in Mesoamerica. It will no doubt also be of great interest for the
general public’.
Another important contribution to Michoacán archaeology also appeared in the
early 1990s: Tariacuri’s Legacy: The Prehispanic Tarascan State, written by Helen
Pollard (1993). Shirley Gorenstein wrote the introduction, where she says that ‘it is
astonishing that the Prehispanic Tarascans, famous among the Aztecs and well-known
to their Spanish conquistadores, have been little studied and poorly understood —until
recently’ (p. xiii). In fact, little archaeological research has been carried out in
Michoacán and in Western Mexico in general. Tariacuri’s Legacy is one of the few
books that have been published on the area, and it should be welcomed by both
specialists and general readers.
Tariacuri’s Legacy is divided into eight chapters, which discuss the following
topics: (1) Protohistoric Mesoamerica and the Tarascans; (2) the city of Tzintzuntzan,
the Tarascan capital; (3) the political core: Lake Pátzcuaro Basin; (4) the expansion of
the tributary state; (5) economic integration within the Tarascan frontier; (6)
administration of the state; (7) the ideology of power: the state religion and the
Tarascan intellectual tradition; and (8) the Tarascan kingdom within Mesoamerican
prehistory. Three appendixes discuss aspects of Pollard’s fieldwork at Tzintzuntzan: the
archaeological survey, ceramic artifacts, and lithic artifacts.
After a brief discussion of the ‘pre-Tarascan’ cultures in Michoacán, Pollard
describes the origins and evolution of the Tarascan state, from the early development of
Tzintzuntzan as the major city of the Tarascan area (ca. AD 1350-1450) to its becoming
the capital of the state during the Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530), and
culminating with the arrival of the Spaniards in the 16th century.
During the Protohistoric period, Pollard considers that Tzintzuntzan was a
 58

true urban center, covering an area of ca. 6.74 km2 and housing a population of some
35,000 people. Pollard’s study of land use in the ancient city was based on variations in
the distribution of artifacts, structures and elements on the surface, but she also used
ethnohistorical data to document the existence of structures or elements that were not
discernible archaeologically. She identified three types of urban zones within the city:
residential, manufacturing and public. Residential zones were divided into three
categories according to the status of their occupants: the cazonci, or king, and the
nobility were at the top, with a middle-level segment of the population directly below,
and the commoners at the bottom. In this case, the middle-status habitation complexes
are associated with looted burials. Manufacturing zones were also subdivided into three
categories: (1) areas where un-retouched prismatic obsidian blades were produced; (2)
areas where artifacts of green and red obsidian were manufactured, including polished
items such as ear- and lip-plugs; and (3) areas where the presence of numerous lithic
scrapers suggest such activities as the preparation of skins, woodworking and maguey
scraping for pulque manufacture. The principle public zone was the platform or main
plaza, which contains five huge pyramids, or yácatas, as well as several mortuary
chambers, storerooms for ritual paraphernalia, and an ossuary. Four areas were
identified as secondary public zones, characterized by the remains of stone structures
filled with rubble and by a high proportion of ceramic pipe fragments. Other public
zones are documented ethnohistorically in the Relación de Michoacán, but were not
found in the archaeological survey. These are the ‘eagle house’ (possibly a kind of
men’s house), the jail, a zoo, storehouses for grain, cotton mantles, and other goods paid
to the state as tribute, a ball court, baths, commercial zones or markets, defensive zones
and cemeteries.
According to Pollard, economic interaction in the Tarascan state probably
involved market systems as well as redistributive networks, with the king at the center.
Tribute paid periodically to the state consisted of goods obtained locally, such as food,
clothing, precious metals and feathers, as well as services rendered to the state (military
service and corvée labor), sustaining political functionaries and maintaining temple
lands.
Political and religious functions were central to the nature and growth of
Tzintzuntzan, while economic activity was either embedded within other systems, or
peripheral to the basic power structure. Tzintzuntzan’s initial growth as an urban center
seems to have been generated by political, rather than economic, factors. This is in
 59

sharp contrast with other Mesoamerican cities, such as Tenochtitlan or Teotihuacan.

According to Pollard, by 1520 the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin had become the
densely-populated core of the Tarascan kingdom. During the Protohistoric period, the
Pátzcuaro Basin is thought to have been occupied by 91 settlements. On the basis of
field data and sixteenth-century documents, Pollard has grouped these sites into five
size classes, from the urban capital to small dispersed hamlets. Some communities had
specialized functions within the basin: eight were religious centers, three had markets,
eight functioned as local administrative centers, and Tzintzuntzan was the
administrative center and capital of the Empire. During the peak of Tarascan political
power, it is thought that more than 105,000 people lived in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin
alone.
In addition to the themes already mentioned, Tariácuri’s Legacy also deals in a
clear and concise way with the following topics: ecological zones inside the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin; distinct categories of land according to use and productivity;
settlement classes (including area and population); the market structure; the
administrative hierarchy; the relationship among settlement, resources and population;
and, finally, the functions of central places. Furthermore, the author uses maps to
illustrate the following aspects of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin during the Protohistoric
period: settlement location; environmental zones; soil types; aquatic resources; regional
market networks; and the territories of administrative centers.
The expansion of the Tarascan state from the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin reached
well beyond central Michoacán and resulted in the incorporation of several peoples, the
control of large territories, and the defense of several hostile borders, including the long
eastern frontier where Tarascan forces faced the advancing Aztecs. According to
Pollard, more than 75,000 sq. km were under the domination of the dynasty that ruled
from Tzintzuntzan. Some time around the mid-fifteenth century, the first steps were
taken to consolidate military conquests into a tributary state, a process that entailed
creating an administrative bureaucracy and distributing conquered territories among the
uacúsecha (the Tarascan elite).
Pollard holds that the Tarascan state followed a simple and common historical
pattern: it was an ethnically-homogeneous entity with centralized political control
surrounded by ethnically-diverse populations, which were incorporated by militaristic
expansion. Political systems of this kind are usually referred to as empires. In fact, all
the data presented in Tariacuri’s Legacy (particularly those dealing with urbanism and
 60

settlement patterns, trade, religion, economy, ideology and war) seem to indicate
beyond doubt that the Tarascan state reached a level of complexity equal to any of the
major states of Postclassic Mesoamerica, including their arch-rivals, the Aztecs. The
aforementioned review of this book written by Williams (1995b) closes with the words:
‘In summary, Tariacuri’s Legacy is highly recommended, not only to those interested
in West Mexican or Mesoamerican archaeology, but to all readers interested in the
cultural evolution of pre-industrial states. The author’s use of archaeological,
ethnohistorical, ethnographical and other data, as well as her clear presentation and
readable style, make for one of the most important contributions to Mesoamerican
studies to appear in recent times’.
Pollard makes an interesting observation about the natural resources available for
the Tarascans in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Many strategic resources were not found
there; for instance, obsidian, lime, quartz and salt (1993:113). Pollard and Thomas A.
Vogel (1994) examined the political and economic implications of obsidian exchange in
the Tarascan Empire in a study that addressed the following questions: What is the
relationship between the political borders and economic networks in Mesoamerica? In
the case of the Tarascans, what was the relationship between tributary networks and the
market? What was the role of strategic resources in the origin and development of social
complexity? In the case of the Tarascan elite, did the control of obsidian quarries and
trade routes constitute a source of political power? And, finally, how did the
development and growth of the Tarascan state affect the obsidian exchange networks in
West and Central Mexico?
Pollard and Vogel offer several insights that shed light on these issues. They hold
that two complexes of obsidian quarries were being exploited within the limits of the
Tarascan state: Ucareo-Zinapécuaro in the northeast (Healan 1994), and Zináparo-Varal
in the northwest (Darras 1994). The use of these quarries seems to indicate both the
regionalization of markets and specialization in the distribution of obsidian. The
Tarascan capital and the towns in the north of the territory were supplied from Ucareo-
Zinapécuaro, while other regions obtained their obsidian from Zináparo-Varal. This
suggests that for most of the obsidian there were regional districts for trade. Such
districts operated beyond the political boundaries of the Tarascan state. This may have
been due to market patterns, not to tribute or the activities of long-distance merchants.
Finally, Pollard and Vogel (1994:173) sustain that long-distance merchants acquired
 61

obsidian nodules in rough form (macro cores), which were later worked in select
localities in the city of Tzintzuntzan.
Before Pollard’s work with Zinapécuaro obsidian, Dan Healan (Healan et al.
1983) conducted a surface survey of the Tula (Hidalgo) urban zone, as well as
excavation and analysis of an obsidian workshop at Tula. Healan and Stoutamire (1989)
report that ‘green obsidian constituted about 68 percent of the total collection… all of
this is from the Pachuca source located less than 50 miles away… About 25 percent of
the survey obsidian is distinguished by its grey color and the presence of dark internal
banding… Based upon trace elements analysis of the workshop obsidian… and
examination of the specimens at various quarries, it is probable that most of this is from
the obsidian source located near Zinapécuaro, Michoacán’ (p. 211). According to these
authors, ‘the Zinapécuaro source has been known since the turn of the [20th] century
(Breton 1905) and has recently been identified in significant quantities at a number of
central Mexican sites’ (p. 211). This interest in obsidian from Michoacán in the Toltec
capital led Healan to the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, where he studied two important obsidian
sources: Zinapécuaro and Ucareo. Healan recounts his experiences in the following
passage:
At about that time [early 1980s]… sourcing studies started identifying
Zinapécuaro obsidian in various places, so I got interested in it, and found no one
had really ever studied it. My first visit to Zinapécuaro was in the fall of 1983.
While there I drove up to Ucareo… and in a matter of hours I had visited several
quarry sites and I realized there was much more evidence of pre-Hispanic
exploitation around Ucareo than Zinapécuaro. I went back for a week in the
summer of 1984, then spent five weeks there in the summer of 1987 doing
informal survey. Ucareo and Zinapécuaro are chemically very similar, but not
identical. They are two different but related geological sources, which led me to
propose naming the two as a single (UZ) source area… In January 1990 I began a
one-year project of survey and excavation in the source area, and have been
publishing on that project since then… (Healan, personal communication, email
dated 28 January 2018).

After this short overview of archaeological research in Michoacán during the last
century, we now turn to a discussion of the history of archaeology in Jalisco, Colima,
 62

Nayarit and Sinaloa, by reviewing a selection of the sources that were published
between ca. 1890 and 1990.

Figure 4. Map of Michoacán showing the major archaeological sites mentioned in the text, as well as the
extent of the Tarascan Empire in the early 16th century (adapted from Pollard 2000: Figure 5.1).

Figure 5. Nicolás León during his work at the yácatas of Tzintzuntzan, in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin,
which took place around 1888 (after León 1903).
 63

Figure 6. Francisco Plancarte conducted field work at Jacona, Michoacán, around 1890. This map of the
‘ancient city of Xucunan’ resulted from Plancarte’s survey of the area (adapted from León 1903: Plate
11a).

Figure 7. Hypothetical reconstruction of the yácatas of Tzintzuntzan, made by Nicolás León in the early
20th century (adapted from León 1903).
 64

Figure 8. Several stone sculptures like this chacmool (a) and coyote altar or throne (b) were found near
Ihuatzio, Lake Pátzcuaro, by Julián Bonavit around 1908 (adapted from Lombardo de Ruiz 1990: Figure:
121 [a], and Williams 1992: Figure 180 [b]).

Figure 9. Juan Palacios made a survey of the archaeological zone of Chupícuaro, Guanajuato, where he
collected objects made of fired clay, like this vessel with geometric decoration (adapted from Mena and
Aguirre 1927).
 65

Figure 10. Map of the excavations at the Jiquilpan air field, conducted by Eduardo Noguera in the early
1940s (adapted from Noguera 1944: Plano IV).

Figure 11. Pottery vessels and fragments of the Chila Polychrome ware, found by Isabel Kelly near
Apatzingán, in the tierra caliente or ‘hot lands’ of Michoacán (adapted from Kelly 1947: Figure 16).
 66

Part 2. History of Archaeological Research in Jalisco, Colima,

Nayarit and Sinaloa

The area of West Mexico now occupied by the states of Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and
Sinaloa was incorporated into the Spanish Empire in the 16th century, a few years after
the fall of Tenochtitlan to the Conquistadors. This far-western part of the Mesoamerican
ecumene was an important source of mineral riches, as well as a base for expeditions to
the north and a point of departure for voyages to the Orient (Bell 1971:694). Many
historical accounts from the Conquest period describe ‘a dense and rather prosperous
aboriginal population for Nayarit, Jalisco, and parts of Colima… There were a number
of sizable towns throughout the area, and material culture was apparently rich and
varied’ (p. 695). However, after the first Spanish incursions, ‘aboriginal life was
disrupted, and within a few years… the Indian population had declined sharply, owing
largely to newly introduced diseases. Moreover, many Indians abandoned their
settlements and fled into the mountains of northern and eastern Jalisco, and into the
Sierra de Nayarit’ (pp. 695-697).
In her survey of archaeological research in Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit up to the
late 1960s, Betty Bell (1971) writes that ‘the archaeological art of perhaps no other area
of Mexico is as well known’ as that of the region under discussion. But at the same
time, ‘in perhaps no other area has there been so little controlled excavation. Countless
figurines and other artifacts are in private collections, lacking secure provenience,
assignable to regions only on stylistic grounds’ (pp. 697-698). Among early travelers in
the area, Adela Breton, Leon Diguet, Ales Hrdlicka, and Carl Lumholtz recounted many
fascinating experiences and gave detailed descriptions of the archaeological materials
they saw, but their collections were for the most part purchased from local informants,
rather than excavated, and thus cannot be used for systematic reconstructions of the
area’s culture history (Bell 1971).
Meanwhile for Sinaloa, Clement Meighan (1971) reports that this had been ‘one
of the pioneer areas for investigation in West Mexico’, but during the 1960s it was ‘in
the anomalous position of being better known because of work in adjacent areas than
because of current studies in Sinaloa itself’; and ‘somewhere in Sinaloa (probably the
drainage of the Rio Fuerte) lies the boundary between the cultures of the desert
Southwest and those of Mesoamerica’ (p. 754). This extreme northward extension of
the Mesoamerican ecumene, in Meighan’s words, ‘appears to have been by no means as
 67

diluted or late in time as was formerly believed… a relatively full-blown Mesoamerican

culture seems to have extended as far as southern Sinaloa by the early Postclassic, if not
the full Classic’. In Meighan’s view, ‘Sinaloa… holds the answer to many important
archaeological questions, including Mesoamerican-Southwestern relationships and the
expansion… of Mesoamerican civilization’ (p. 755).
Meighan holds that from 16th century documents there ‘emerges a picture of a
heavy population and remarkable cultural elaboration and complexity. The wealth and
civilization of the region in prehistoric times were largely discounted by scholars until
archaeology verified the early accounts’ (p. 755). The following ideas written by
Meighan about Sinaloa could perhaps be extended to the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit region
as well. In surveying the factors that in his view ‘have contributed to our failure to
appreciate and understand the ethnohistoric record of socio-cultural complexity’,
Meighan identifies four key points: (1) the total destruction of native life by the
Spaniards led to a depopulation of the coastal region, which was reversed only in recent
years; (2) there was a natural tendency to discount the early stories of conquerors and
others (such as priests), whose accounts mention towns with thousands of people and
‘armies’ that numbered in the thousands; (3) the Sinaloa region lacked a central
‘empire’ and had no dominating capital but, rather, a ‘series of small city-states, each
with tributary towns and villages… This… explains a feature of the region’s
archaeology —the fact that in delta, estuary, and flood-plain regions the sites sometimes
appear to go on for miles with no apparent major centers… [or] urban centers’ (p. 755);
(4) in addition to the absence of major cities, there is a scarcity of stone architecture,
monumental sculpture, and similar obvious evidences of civilization. This fact has
contributed to a mistaken perception that depicts a marginal and simple cultural area.
Period I: 1880-1910
During the first period of archaeological research in the states of Jalisco, Colima,
Nayarit and Sinaloa, among the main characters we can mention are four explorers or
‘adventurers’ of European origin from, respectively, Norway (Lumholtz), England
(Breton), the Czech Republic (Hrdlicka), and France (Diguet). Probably the best-known
of the four is Lumholtz, whom we met earlier in the book. Lumholtz was active in the
last decade of the 19th century and the first decade of the 20th, during a time when
‘modern’ anthropology was becoming established in Mexico based on fieldwork in the
following disciplines: ethnography, physical anthropology, linguistics and archaeology
(Páez 1990). Rubén Páez narrates that Lumholtz undertook a series of expeditions in the
 68

Sierra Madre Occidental and that, having found in naturalist evolutionism the
explanation for life in general, like many intellectuals of the time he applied that
theoretical assumption to the study of peoples there, who were thought to be in inferior
stages of socio-cultural development. The countless pages produced by Lumholtz and
his associates during his time in Mexico include botanical and zoological records,
drawings, photos, vocabularies, correspondence, scientific reports, recordings of music
and chants, musical transcriptions, anthropometric measurements, detailed descriptions
of traditions and customs, and observations on economic, social and political
organization among the native communities he visited (Páez 1990:11).
The most important of Lumholtz’s many contributions to anthropology was his
book Unknown Mexico, first published in 1902 (the Spanish version appeared in 1904).
One finds there a remarkable account of the author’s travels in the Sierra Madre
Occidental, one of the most inhospitable areas of the country. His keen scientific mind
led him to discover many natural and cultural wonders, not least of which were the
archaeological sites he was able to visit, and the many artifacts he described and
illustrated. This enduring study is a tour de force for West Mexican archaeology.
Of the city of Tepic (Nayarit) Lumholtz (1986) wrote: ‘Weather is humid and
extremely variable… To my knowledge there are no ruins of any significance in this
territory, although in some places earth mounds are abundant, and the ploughs often dig
up splendid figurines made of painted and polished baked clay. The people who find
them usually are not aware of the value of these monos, and give them to children to
play with’. Some people were keen to collect clay figures, if only as curiosities, while
others saw them as ‘amulets to keep their good health and for good luck, and are totally
opposed to selling them’ (p. 289).
It would appear that Lumholtz had a rather wide network of informants who
provided him with all kinds of data on the topics that he was interested in: ‘A
trustworthy friend told me very interesting things about a cave he had visited near
Ayutlán’. 6 This person excavated in the cave, finding ‘many clay pots… of an ordinary
kind’. After this, many others came to dig here, and according to Lumholtz’s informant,
they found ‘about two thousand jars, bowls and figurines, which they kept throwing into
the river as soon as they unearthed them’ (p. 290). In another case, someone had been
‘systematically excavating in his garden, looking for antiquities… although without any
archaeological knowledge’. The owner of this garden had seen ‘some stones among the
6
This could refer to present-day Ayutla, Jalisco, a town near the Pacific Ocean.
 69

trees’, which ‘aroused his curiosity’. Under the stones he found ‘a wall built over the
volcanic layer, where [we] found many skeletons in a very bad state of conservation,
laying with their heads near the wall and the feet facing east’. Lumholtz made the
following interpretation: ‘Our man had found a cemetery, perhaps pertaining to some
Nahua tribe, and as he advanced with his excavations he kept finding more skeletons, of
which he unearthed a total of eleven’. Together with the skeletons the excavators found
‘many interesting objects… jars with ash or tequesquite’ (i.e. salty earth) (p. 291).
Lumholtz wrote: ‘Thanks to my good luck I was in Tepic when this person
unearthed the most valuable objects he had ever stumbled upon… Two skeletons with
26 bells made of solid gold around their necks, apart from some turquoises’. Lying upon
the chest of one of the skeletons there was ‘a large plaque made of beaten gold that had
functioned as an ornament… Near the feet was a vessel… in a very bad state of
conservation, shaped like a seated man; and also a magnificent jar made of terracotta
with body and decorations in the shape of a turkey’ (pp. 291-292).
At Iztlán de Buenos Aires (Nayarit) Lumholtz saw that the town’s surrounding
areas were ‘of great archaeological interest, because the valley bottom… has many
mounds. There are at least one thousand [mounds], according to calculations by the
priest in Iztlán, who has an active interest in archaeology. During the ten years that he
has been in charge of this parish, he has made excavations almost every year and has
unearthed a good deal of terracotta figurines characteristic of that district’ (p. 300). The
priest took Lumholtz ‘to a great mound that he had been excavating with twelve men
during four months… Inside there was a round room, with a diameter of 77.5 ft, that
consisted mainly of a double wall of stone and mud… Stone stairs led to the wall’s end
at north and south… Around the bottom… there were five or maybe six crypts, built
with stone and earth, each one three yards long’. In this room, Lumholtz found ‘nothing
but walls and stairs, so we may assume that it was built for religious purposes; from all
the others the priest had excavated skeletons with their accessories [i.e. offerings]’ (p.
301).
That same priest told Lumholtz about ‘some high mounds around Mespán… and
he came with me to the site, taking laborers to dig… We went up to a mesa (flat hilltop)
literally covered by mounds, most of them round… An old treasure-seeker came to offer
his services… Like most mestizos, he was very keen to look for hidden treasures… The
mound we excavated was 16 ft high and 48 ft in diameter; from its summit one could
 70

see other 48 mounds to the east and north’. Near the top of the mound the explorers
found ‘several beautiful obsidian lance points’ (pp. 301-302).
Lumholtz reflects on the ‘great opportunities to practice archaeological research
around Iztlán. Even before I arrived at the place, they had told me about the curious
monos (figurines) that the local chemist had at home… At dawn [the men] found an
underground [feature] divided in two sections, and under the vault they found 27 figures
together with many beautiful vessels… The biggest figures were all in one room, and
the smaller ones in another’. Unfortunately, however, the men ‘ignored the scientific
value of their finds and they sent them on donkeys to the city, where they were
distributed as curiosities among many people… In 1898 I was able to salvage for
science what remained of these outstanding antiquities. I also procured many other
terracotta figures from the area around Iztlán… The most valuable ones are from the
underground room mentioned above’ (pp. 303-304).
Lumholtz’ informants also told him about a place called Rancho del Veladero,
where he ‘collected… 19 items, three are diminutive figurines, roughly made, 3 or 4
inches high. From the nearby town of Jomulco I obtained ten, and terracotta pieces from
Jala, also near Iztlán’ (p. 304).
Lumholtz was a keen observer of the antiquities he found in the field or in
private collections. About the clay figures from Iztlán, he commented that they ‘are
particularly interesting because they show the dress and adornments of a certain ancient
people of Mexico, their manner of hair dress and of body painting, their occupations,
their weapons and tools… the [figures] have bead necklaces, bracelets, and other
adornments, painted or molded in clay’ (p. 305). Adela Breton found similar figures in
the mound of Guadalupe, near Etzatlán, Jalisco, and recorded them in watercolors of
high artistic sophistication (Figure 13).
Like many people at the time, Lumholtz wondered about the identity of the
people responsible for the things he was discovering in the field or in private
collections. He concluded that ‘it is difficult to deduce what people produced these
terracotta figures, in particular the ones from the Rancho del Veladero. Were they
Nahuas or their predecessors, or maybe Tarascans? Against the first hypothesis stands
the fact that no analogous materials have been found in Nahua lands, as one could
expect’. Then Lumholtz arrived at the conclusion, prevalent at the time, that ‘as far as
our present knowledge allows, we can call the ancient culture of Jalisco, Colima and…
[Nayarit] Tarascan, although the Nahuas or Aztecs may have had a great influence
 71

there. The region around Lake Chapala undoubtedly belongs to the old Tarascan
kingdom… It is virtually certain that the state of Colima was Tarascan, since the pottery
items excavated from its soil are identical to the ones found today in the Tarascan
region’. Following this line of reasoning, Lumholtz concluded that ‘whoever may have
been the builders of the terracotta items from El Veladero, the fact is that we can see
Tarascan influence in them’ (p. 309).
Moving on to southern-central Jalisco, Lumholtz writes that ‘the terrain between
Lake Santa Magdalena and Zacoalco consists of extensive and fertile plains and hills to
the east and west’ (p. 312). Before arriving at Zacoalco, he passed ‘near a shallow lake
of stagnant water’. Lumholtz recounts that ‘early in the afternoon we arrived at the edge
of “La Playa”… a sort of lowland of some 25 by nine miles, formed by the dry bottom
of a salty lake, in some places water appears after hard and lasting rains’ (p. 313). He
visited the nearby town of Atoyac, of which he said that it was ‘a healthy place,
provided with excellent water that arrives by lead pipes from a certain distance’.
Lumholtz described ‘some mounds located several miles to the north… [in] a place
called Cerro Colorado [i.e. red hill], the biggest of the mounds is… some ten varas [1
vara=ca. 83 cm] high, 185 steps long and roughly the same width’. Some excavations
had been conducted at the site, finding ‘layers of broken clay vessels, up to two varas in
thickness, and some walls’, while ‘the small mounds appeared to be simple
accumulations of potsherds, sometimes up to two varas high’ (p. 314).
According to Lumholtz, there was a historical tradition in the area which held
that La Playa had been an object of contention between Tarascans and Aztecs, thanks to
the natural salt deposits found there (pp. 314-315). In fact, salt production had been a
major industry during pre-Hispanic times: ‘In the southern end of La Playa… they
showed me many ancient clay vessels, inserted in the ground with just the rim showing.
In one point I counted forty of them, sunk in quite regular rows’. Lumholtz wondered
about the use given to these pots in ancient times: ‘Whether these pots served in some
way for making salt, it is not possible to say’ (p. 317). 7
Near Tuxpan, southern Jalisco, Lumholtz spent some time buying pieces for his
ever-growing archaeological collection: ‘Among the antiques that I collected, there is a
beautiful burnished vessel of an odd shape, with a wide hollow handle and a spout… A
similar vessel was found later in Uruapan, Michoacán’ (p. 327) (Figure 14).

7
The salt-making industry in this part of Jalisco was a major economic enterprise from pre-Hispanic to recent times; see Williams
(2015) for a full discussion.
 72

Among the ancient artifacts Lumholtz added to his research collection in Tuxpan
were the ‘old mace heads whose engravings… are… very interesting because they are
almost identical to the ones still used in British New Guinea. The one with knuckles is
found quite frequently in the neighborhood of La Playa’ (p. 327). One would certainly
expect to find weapons like these stone mace heads if this had indeed been a war zone
between native polities that were competing for possession of the rich salt deposits.
Upon reading these accounts it becomes clear that the looting of archaeological
sites was a problem even in Lumholtz’s time, as it still is today in West Mexico and
elsewhere. As Lumholtz noted, ‘Jalisco is rich in antiquities. Burials are being
constantly discovered, but many of the things taken from [the ancient tombs] fall into
the hands of unscrupulous merchants, who disseminate throughout the world the
archaeological riches, selling them to tourists’. In 1898, near Guadalajara (the capital of
Jalisco), Lumholtz acquired an ‘extremely interesting collection of ceramic items that
some laborers had found in the Hacienda de la Estanzuela… [the men] told me that they
found a great number of human remains… with a good many [clay] jars. I bought from
them 112 items, 35 painted with stucco, some of them in very good condition…’ (p.
448). Lumholtz mentions his colleague Dr. Ales Hrdlicka, who ‘in an excavation… he
conducted near Nostic, in northern Jalisco… extracted a plate and… several pieces of
the same type of ware… decorated with the same procedure used nowadays in Tarascan
lacquers’ (p. 449).
We have already mentioned the English explorer Adela Breton, who was active
in the field of archaeological exploration in Mexico in the first years of the 20th century.
Breton made some of the first contributions to West Mexican archaeology, and her
work had a lasting influence. However, Warwick Bray (1989) has written that ‘Adela
Breton’s reputation has suffered more than most from the pendulum-like swings of
archaeological fashion. In her time she knew all the great names in Mesoamerican
studies… and was a respected member of the small, but international, group of scholars
who laid the foundations of Maya archaeology… [but] by the 1960s she was almost
forgotten… the new generation of authors all but ignored her work’ (p. 9).
Weigand and Williams (1997) point out that of the pioneers in the archaeology
of West Mexico it is Lumholtz who has received most of the attention. Although his
observations were unfocused and somewhat disorganized, his illustrations of the ancient
artifacts he collected are excellent, and most of his collections are accessible to the
public in the American Museum of Natural History (New York). Breton’s work, unlike
 73

that of Lumholtz and others (Nicolás León, for example), is usually not taken into
account, although she made several significant contributions (see, for example, Breton
1905, 1989b). Her work in Jalisco, though of lasting significance for the region’s
archaeology, was ephemeral and eventually all but eclipsed by her later research in the
Maya area (Giles and Stewart 1989). It could be said that Breton’s efforts were more
systematic than Lumholtz’s, and that she should receive credit as the author of many
significant contributions (though she may not have recognized their importance at the
time), for she: (1) associated the hollow clay figures of the Formative and early Classic
periods (ca. 300 BC-AD 400) that she found in the Etzatlán-Teuchitlán area of Jalisco,
with the surface architecture of the same period; (2) observed the natural occurrence of
obsidian and the cultural significance it had for the ancient peoples of the western area
of Mesoamerica; and (3) documented the circular architecture that we now know is the
distinctive feature of the Teuchitlán Tradition of the Formative and Classic periods in
Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and other parts of West Mexico.
As is often the case with pioneering archaeological projects, the importance of
Breton’s observations cited above was not fully-recognized for some 70 years. This was
due primarily to the lack of scientific archaeological excavations in West Mexico. The
archaeologists who came to work in the area after Breton were mainly interested in the
shaft tombs and their contents, so other elements of ancient culture, such as architecture
and obsidian production, were largely ignored. In hindsight, Breton’s observations,
among others, became the basis for future research, since they included explorations of
the relationship between clay hollow figures and surface architecture, and studies of the
nature of circular architecture, and the production, trade and use of the vast obsidian
deposits found in Jalisco and other areas in the west (Weigand and Williams 1997).
What follows is a summary of Breton’s most significant contributions to the
archaeological literature of West Mexico. The first one is a short paper published in the
journal Man in 1903 (reprinted in 1989), while the second is a paper that she presented
at the International Congress of Americanists in New York City in 1902 (published in
1905). In the article entitled ‘Some Mexican Clay Figures’, Breton (1989b) describes
several ‘portrait figures… which… came from a mound or tumulus near Etzatlán…
Jalisco, Mexico’ (p. 53). This mound was located three leagues (ca. 9 miles) north of
Etzatlán on land belonging to the Hacienda de Guadalupe. The site was excavated by
the owner in 1896, but ‘unfortunately there was no skilled supervision, no data were
secured, and most of the figures were broken’ during excavations (p. 53). Breton
 74

described the finds in detail: ‘The mound itself was rounded and about 40 ft high. A
wide trench was dug… and about half the mound [was] cleared away to the ground
level… the workmen came… to a layer of charcoal and soft, loose brown earth, in
which they found a skeleton resting on a whitey-grey compound… the skull was finely
developed. Above this they found the figures’. Regarding those finds, Breton wrote that
she ‘made sketches of some of the figures and was able to bring away two, which are
now in the Bristol Museum. Some remained at the hacienda, and others were given to
the owner’s friends. There were at least 20’. Among the contents of the tomb the
workers had found ‘some shell bracelets, jade amulets and beads, and cut shell and
stone ornaments… a cylinder of extremely hard polished stone… and some very small
flat bits of white metal –not silver– with holes’ (p. 53).
Breton also touches upon the subject of ancient obsidian production in the area
under discussion: ‘As this mound is near the great obsidian workings of Teuchitlán,
where miles of hillsides are strewn with refuse cuttings, one would expect to find good
implements in it, but I am not aware this was so. Two triangular flakes of unusual shape
and some cores were all that I saw’. Breton also mentions ‘a manufactory of these
prismatic objects… on the hill, now an island, in the Lake of Maddalena [sic], close to
Etzatlán. Dozens of rejects may be picked up there, whereas among the myriads of
flakes of all sizes at Teuchitlán there are none’ (p. 54).
Compared to Breton’s general observations on the antiquities in Etzatlán and
nearby areas, it seems that her paper on obsidian production in West Mexico (1905)
presents a more systematic and thorough discussion. After spending some time in
Zinapécuaro, Michoacán, exploring the important obsidian outcrops there, this
indefatigable English lady arrived at Teuchitlán, where she also visited obsidian
deposits and was able to report that ‘the obsidian rejects are massed at [several] points.
One is a terrace by a mound… where the ploughed ground is covered with unusually
large and long pieces, roughly flaked. The second is a spot at the foot of the hill…
where vast quantities of flakes and rejects of all descriptions are wedged together in a
layer, about 12 ft square… Very many of the flakes are broken. They are of all sizes,
from razor-like blades 8 or 9 inches long, to the smallest and thinnest possible’ (p. 267).
At a distance of ‘some three miles from Teuchitlán, on another spur of the ridge, the
obsidian cropping out along the top, has been worked, and the heaps of rejects extend
for a mile’. Breton thought that ‘the island in the Lake of Magdalena… is in some
respects the most remarkable of the obsidian workings which I have seen, as it appears
 75

to have been a manufactory of the many-sided… cores…Lumps of obsidian occur on

the surface, and these objects are strewn over the ground in quantities’ (p. 268). The
indigenous obsidian industry in and around Teuchitlán, so ably described by Breton
over a century ago, is still the subject of archaeological enquiry, as we shall see in later
sections of this book.
From Teuchitlán we go to the far north of Jalisco, where Hrdlicka investigated a
dozen or so archaeological sites near the Bolaños River. Hrdlicka is a very interesting
figure in the history of anthropological research in northwest Mexico. After migrating
from Bohemia to the United States, in 1895 he was offered the position of Associate in
Anthropology at the Pathological Institute of New York State Hospitals, where he
developed a program of anthropometric measurements and amassed a systematic
collection of human skeletons (Schultz 1944:306). In 1898, he received an invitation to
accompany Carl Lumholtz to Mexico, where he would be in charge of medical and
anthropometric work among the indigenous populations. That was Hrdlicka’s first
introduction to fieldwork in the area. In 1902, he joined the American Museum of
Natural History (New York) and visited the southwestern United States and northern
Mexico (p. 307).
Hrdlicka’s work concentrated around the Bolaños River in northern Jalisco. This
river ‘flows through a deep, narrow valley, and the escarpments on both sides are cut by
deep barrancas [gullies] which extend some distance back from the river valley; all sites
known to date are on promontories overlooking the river’ (Bell 1971:734). The sites
atop the mesa were apparently fortified, and were built of cut-stone masonry. There is
also some terracing, and mounds were built over quadrangular masonry enclosures.
Many of these sites are extensive and complex, and Hrdlicka (1903) thought that they
were ceremonial in nature (Bell 1971).
According to J. Charles Kelley (1971), ‘in the deep barranca of the Río
Mesquitic-Bolaños… Hrdlicka and Lumholtz, separately, made collections and recorded
sites’. Perhaps the best-known of these is Totoate, which consists of ‘an extensive ruin
area of masonry platforms, courts, rocks with petroglyphs, and refuse [covering] most
of the mesa’ (p. 770). Kelley found ‘of special interest… a large masonry walled
circular court, partly subterranean, with terraced platforms attached at the cardinal
points. In the center of the court there is a multiple walled circular stone tower’. During
his work at the site, ‘Hrdlicka excavated in the platform areas without recognizing their
 76

nature or that of the court. In the central tower he noted “rooms” packed with cremated
burials, with paint cloisonné bowls in association’ (p. 771).
Many of the items collected by Hrdlicka are housed in the American Museum of
Natural History (New York), and together with his observations on architecture,
ceramics, stone sculpture and other traits of pre-Hispanic culture in the northern regions
of West Mexico, they constitute an indispensable contribution to our understanding of
the northern reaches of the Mesoamerican ecumene. The extensive corpus of material
culture collected by Hrdlicka includes items like pre-Hispanic stone sculpture, which
have been invaluable for cultural reconstruction and interpretation in the area (Williams
1992). Hrdlicka described several stone images found near Askeltán, in northern
Jalisco: ‘Two damaged stone idols, and several pieces of smaller figures… the
fragments referred to are those of one or two stone lions… We made a laborious
excursion to obtain or at least to see these figures, but as my enquiries about them
alarmed the Tepecanos, we found, on reaching the summit… only an empty court with
traces where the idols had stood’ (1903:399).
The last scholar we will mention here is Leon Diguet, who was active in the
field of Mexican exploration between 1889 and 1913. Diguet was an accomplished
explorer in the fields of natural history and anthropology; however, he is scarcely
mentioned in the history of French or Mexican anthropology, despite the fact that he left
a lasting mark on the field, and a long list of scientific publications (see examples in
Diguet 1992a, and 1992b). There is no detailed evaluation of Diguet’s work, and little
information about his life has been published (Jáuregui 1992:7), but he was a member
of the generation of scholars who devoted their time and energies, simultaneously, to
the natural and human sciences.
Diguet made his first trip to Mexico between 1889 and 1892, after being hired
by the Rothschild Company in Paris to work as an industrial chemist in the mineral
works of El Boleo (near Santa Rosalía, Baja California Sur), which would become the
most important copper production center in Mexico (p. 7). Diguet’s scientific skills
enabled him to return to France with an outstanding collection of geological, zoological,
botanical and archaeological samples from Baja California. Thanks to the cultural and
scientific importance of his collection, the French Ministry of Public Education asked
him to undertake several ‘scientific missions’ to Mexico, including a total of five
expeditions to Baja California, Jalisco, Nayarit, San Luis Potosí and Colima, among
others (p. 8).
 77

Most of Diguet’s scholarly contributions pertain to the field of cultural

anthropology and ethnography. Among his many publications, there is one paper of
particular interest to students of West Mexican archaeology: a narrative essay about his
sojourn along the Pacific watershed of Mexico, carried out by request of the Natural
History Museum of Paris and the French Education Ministry (published in France in
1898). On that trip, Diguet travelled through Jalisco and the Territorio de Tepic
(present-day Nayarit state) with the goal of gathering collections of fauna, flora and
items of ethnographic interest (Diguet 1992a). According to his notes, the ‘completely
exceptional conditions, resulting from different climates and altitude, [as well as] the
abundance of scientific materials, confer a great interest to this region’ (p. 51).
Diguet recounts how he came to find ‘in this vast region… places where nature
appears so notable and extraordinary in its contrasts… both flora and fauna are revealed
with an attractive and prodigious variety. Ethnography does not lag behind: we
frequently find archaeological remains and the population has kept many remarkable
customs’ (p. 54). Diguet’s description continues: ‘These broken lands, the mountains
and gullies that fracture the territory… were the natural borders of the numerous states
that made up the Chimalhuacán [confederation] before the Spanish conquest… In
normal times, the states of Chimalhuacán were ruled as independent monarchies or
feuds’, but when war was declared against neighboring peoples ‘all the states came
together in order to overcome the enemy, they joined ranks and chose a leader and
formed a confederation’ (p. 54). 8
Diguet made observations on pre-Hispanic architecture in this part of West
Mexico that are still useful to archaeologists. He noted, for instance, that ‘in the
dwellings and monuments of the ancient civilization centers, adobe was the basis of the
building materials, therefore… a good number of buildings… were able to escape total
destruction. Their foundations were made of roughly hewn rocks, [which] were buried
under rubble that the rains and [other] atmospheric agents transformed into tumulus or
mounds, today covered by a thick vegetation’ (p. 54). Diguet performed ‘a number of
excavations’ in those mounds, ‘regrettably too few and imperfectly made’, which
allowed him to document ‘first, the foundations of the building, and secondly
architectural features and many religious and artistic objects’, as well as others of
‘domestic use’ (p. 55). Diguet should be credited for understanding the important role of
8
We now know that the so-called Chimalhuacán confederation did not exist in reality. It was a myth that took hold among West
Mexican historians in the 19th century, and persisted into the early 20th (Brand 1971).
 78

ethnographic and ethnohistorical research in shedding light on archaeological

discoveries: ‘Therefore, in order to reconstruct the customs… of the indigenous…
peoples of Chimalhuacán, ethnography should address archaeology, based on the
documents left by missionaries’ of the 16th century and later (p. 55).
Diguet explored ‘a broken and abrupt region… called Sierra de Nayarit… also
named after the indigenous populations that live there: Sierra de los Coras, [and] Sierra
de los Huicholes… There ethnography does not need to resort to archaeology in order to
reconstruct the facts’ (p. 55). The Cora and Huichol ethnic groups, like the few
remaining Tepehuan, ‘have been able to keep a good deal of the religion, traditions, and
lifeways of their ancestors. They left no monuments, but over many generations the
traditions of the ancestors have been passed down by chants. In our days we can still see
in feast days the singers who come to the assemblies of people and recite the religious,
historical and war epics… Of course they have been modified over time, but still have a
real value from the mythological and historical perspective’ (pp. 55-56).
This utilization of a holistic approach that combined perspectives from
ethnography, ethnohistory, archaeology and the natural sciences to understand and
reconstruct the ancient history of this part of the Mesoamerican ecumene was perhaps
Diguet’s most lasting contribution to science. His archaeological fieldwork near Ixtlán,
Nayarit (1992b, first published in 1898), should also be regarded as an outstanding
example of scientific research, a landmark in the early stages of archaeological
development in West Mexico. There, Diguet found ‘many dispersed mounds… that
show a broad base and an elevation of a few meters… [they] are covered by thick
vegetation, and had not attracted anyone’s attention until now, as they seemed to be a
product of the local topography rather than the work of extinct civilized peoples’. He
proceeded to excavate ‘a great trench through all the extent of one of the mounds, and
then other smaller ones’ (Figure 15), discovering ‘two buildings: a precinct of circular
shape built with flat stones cemented with clay, [and] two stairways oriented to the
north and south leading to the bottom part of the building’ (pp. 59-61) (Figure 16a).
The exploration of the mound revealed that it measured 166 m in circumference and that
the construction had been carefully done. According to Diguet, ‘the presence of
numerous pyramids in the region and their internal structure may lead to all sorts of
conjectures, particularly because history gives us scarce information about the people
who lived in these parts of the territory’. He thought that ‘a truly certain proposition
would be to regard these pyramids as the remains of ancient Nahua [i.e. Aztec] temples
 79

or shrines, like the ones portrayed in the hieroglyphic paintings of the Mexican texts’ (p.
61).
Diguet mentions ‘an important fact… that lends new support to the conjecture
about the religious function of the monument… a find made at a short distance from the
pyramid, [consisting] of architectonic fragments… and a sculpture roughly hewn of
stone… The hieratical form of the sculpture allows one to regard it as a divinity
originally from one of the buildings’ (p. 62) (Figure 16b).
Diguet ends his narrative about this remarkable archaeological discovery by
saying that, ‘around the pyramids are funerary tumuli in which excavations found,
among the skeletons, numerous figurines, most made of pottery. Usually, the bodies
[i.e. skeletons] found in these tumuli lay in a horizontal position and on their extremities
are found vessels that contained several objects or figurines of quite considerable
dimensions; along the body are small objects made of pottery or of worked hard stone’
(p. 63).
Period II: 1910-1950
In her survey of archaeological investigation in West Mexico up to the late 1950s and
early 1960s, Betty Bell (1971) mentions an ‘oddly assorted mass of material, uneven in
quality and coverage, and much of it unpublished, which must be fitted together in a
report on the archaeology of Nayarit, Jalisco, and Colima’ (p. 699). She holds that, ‘the
archaeology of this part of West Mexico cannot be discussed without reference to the
Aztatlán complex… originally described by Sauer and Brand [1932]… in coastal
Sinaloa and Nayarit’, and added that, ‘the Aztatlán complex may be loosely defined as a
series of distinctive and related pottery types which appear to have spread along much
of the coast and into part of the highlands of West Mexico during the early Postclassic’
(p. 699). This archaeological complex will be discussed in the section on Sinaloa,
below.
At the 1946 Round Table meeting of the Mexican Society for Anthropology,
Isabel Kelly took part in the session on archaeology of the north-western area (Nayarit,
Jalisco, and Colima), presenting a paper focused on the ‘ceramic provinces of
Northwest Mexico’. In that contribution, Kelly (1948) offered some suggestions that
‘are largely impressionistic, since collections are in storage and complete field notes are
not at hand. They are, however, based on several seasons of survey and excavation,
from Sinaloa into Michoacán… Much of the territory has not been covered even by
survey, but by using information from the Lumholtz report and by viewing occasional
 80

specimens… allocation to zone can be made inferentially’ (p. 55). Because of the
paucity of excavations performed up to that that time, Kelly assigned parts of the
territory under study ‘to archaeological zones with little regard for time depth. This
necessary simplification is, in a way, fortunate, for… the time element tends to
complicate alignment… To a greater or lesser extent, the problem arises in connection
with almost every area whose chronology is partially known’ (p. 55). Kelly defines 11
‘ceramic provinces’ (Figure 17) that she thought could be seen as cultural areas, each
with its own characteristics and relationships with other areas. Those provinces are as
follows: Culiacán, Guasave and Tacuichamona in Sinaloa; Aztatlán in southern Sinaloa
and northern Nayarit; the southern Nayarit coast and its neighboring southern Nayarit
hinterland; Ameca in Jalisco; Martín Monje (adjoining Ameca); coastal Jalisco (from
Tomatlán in the north to the mouth of the Purificación River in the south); Cihuatlán on
the Jalisco-Colima border; Sayula-Zacoalco on the Jaliscan Plateau; Autlán-
Tuxcacuesco; and Colima, including most of the state of that name. The last province is
Apatzingán, in the Tepalcatepec River Basin of western Michoacán.
After a brief description of each ceramic province, Kelly states that ‘Northwest
Mexico still cannot claim any particular antiquity for its archaeological deposits. No
horizon yet isolated appears to antedate Teotihuacan III [ca. AD 450-650]… No pre-
ceramic cultures have been located, but in a region as far-flung and difficult to traverse
as Northwest Mexico, such remains are likely to have escaped attention’. Kelly closes
her paper by lamenting that ‘for many areas no details are known. The present summary
of the ceramic provinces of Northwest Mexico is as much an acknowledgement of
omission as it is a record of accomplishment to date’ (p. 70).
In southern Jalisco, meanwhile, Kelly had made extensive surface surveys
between 1939 and 1942 in the Autlán and Tuxcacuesco areas, and dug some test pits
near the latter town. This fieldwork allowed her to construct chronologies and establish
tentative relationships to archaeological materials from nearby Colima (Bell 1971). Bell
says that both the Autlán and Tuxcacuesco areas ‘are noted in Conquest-period
documents as having a dense aboriginal population, and this is borne out by
archaeological evidence. There is considerable diversity in the archaeological remains
throughout this part of Jalisco… but also sufficient similarity between quite localized
areas to permit their being placed in a chronological framework’ (p. 728). The
‘Tuxcacuesco complex’, as defined by Kelly, includes clay figurines of a very distinct
style (see Bell 1971: Figures 28a and 28b), though in some cases they ‘present a
 81

problem, for most excavated fragments were too small to be classified, and with one
exception all of the whole figurines were purchased and can be assigned to complexes
only on the basis of their alleged provenience’ (p. 731).
Colima’s pre-Hispanic pottery tradition is well-known throughout the world, in
both museums and in private collections. By the time of Kelly’s work there (1940s),
however, there had been ‘little controlled excavation in the area’. Her efforts included
studying ‘several tombs in the Los Ortices district and one at Chanchoapa, near
Tecomán, as well as surface collections in several parts of the state’ (Bell 1971:737).
Publications on this research will be discussed in the next section (Period III, below).
Sinaloa lies to the north of the area under discussion. It is an extensive
geographical region whose ‘archaeological situation… can be compared in some
respects to that of coastal Peru’, since both have ‘a number of short rivers draining into
the Pacific Ocean out of a high and steep mountain scarp. The river-drainage systems
provided routes of travel and also agricultural land where relatively dense population
centers could develop’ (Meighan 1971:755-757). Meighan says that ‘one of the
principal problems for discussion has been the route by which Mesoamerican influences
were transmitted to the Southwestern United states’ and ‘the… prevailing opinion saw
the west coast as the corridor of diffusion’ (p. 757).
During the years between 1932 and 1947 there were six important field projects
in Sinaloa, led by Carl Sauer and Brand (1932), Kelly (1938, 1945, and 1947), and
Gordon Ekholm (1942) (Meighan 1971: Table 1). What follows is a brief review of one
of the most important of those contributions: Sauer and Brand’s Aztatlán: Prehistoric
Mexican Frontier on the Pacific Coast (1932). In this book, the authors set out to ‘get
evidence on the existence… of a prehistoric corridor between the Mexican highland and
the Pueblo country of the American Southwest.’ Sauer and Brand believed that ‘the
Sonoran and Sinaloan country… was much better suited to the development of a
civilization than was the land of the Pueblo. The Pueblo country has brief growing
seasons, severe winters, and its agricultural resources are meagre as to land and
climate.’ (p. 1). Sauer and Brand’s study is based on observations in Sinaloa and
Nayarit during the winter and spring of 1930. The area with which they were concerned
was ‘the Tierra Caliente of… Nueva Galicia. Today it forms northern Nayarit and
southern and central Sinaloa… the area should perhaps be called Aztatlán, Chametla,
and Culiacán, because it is not certain that one Indian name was applied to the whole.
 82

The first Ortelius atlas, of 1570, places the name conspicuously over the whole of our
area’ (p. 5).
The study of pre-Hispanic settlement in this area allowed for a site classification
of ‘the thirty-odd ruins that we visited… [which] are an unknown part of those that exist
in the area, probably a minor fraction’ (p. 14). However, fieldwork in this remote region
was not easy, because ‘in this brushy land one may walk by an important ruin a few
steps away without ever seeing it. If the brush is dense, surface inspection is almost
worthless’. In spite of this handicap, however, Sauer and Brand were able to see that
‘with the exception of the barranca country, in which another culture prevailed, we saw
and heard of nothing that could be called a stronghold site. This condition was in
marked contrast to the later Pueblo settlements of the American Southwest’ (p. 15).
The classification of pre-Hispanic sites in the Aztatlán area consisted of four
types of ancient settlement: (1) Flood-plain sites: ‘All the larger ruins, as well as the
greater number of those that we saw, were in flood plains or on their margins. The
greater part of the population was supported by the products of the alluvial plains’.
(2) Piedmont sites are of two kinds: first, ‘where the major tributaries… have
developed flood plains, old settlements occur marginal to the flood plains’. Second, ‘in
addition there are sites… in piedmont positions, that is on the lower parts of the long
slopes that join basin and range’ (p. 19). (3) Lagoon sites: ‘Settlement[s] on a lagoon…
[or] in mangrove-lined estuaries and in easy reach of the sea. There are only very slight
farming possibilities here. Kitchen middens of large size are reported… The coast of the
southern section with its complex hydrography was and is a very fine fishing ground’.
Among the natural resources available to the ancient inhabitants of these sites, Sauer
and Brand mention: ‘Shrimp fisheries… oysters, clams, turtles, and a variety of food
fish… Water fowl, from egret and ibis to northern geese and ducks, feed in the marshes
and lagoons’. Sauer and Brand also mentioned the fact that ‘the cayman was numerous
in all the streams of the coast’. In conclusion, apart from all the wild resources (both
plant and animal) available on land, ‘fishing… must be looked on as a major resource…
and as a supplement to livelihood for the whole Aztatlán area’. (4) Barranca sites are the
fourth, and final, type of settlement discovered by Sauer and Brand: ‘The tiny
settlements are perched high above the barrancas [gullies] on spurs and benches of the
ridges’ (p. 20).
In their discussion of the local cultural elements and their distribution, Sauer and
Brand say that ‘there is scarcely anything in the whole assemblage of artifacts that calls
 83

the Pueblo country to mind, but much that seems to be almost purely southern… We
suspect the area of having acquired its higher culture well back in the period that is
called Toltecan’ (p. 31), and conclude that ‘we disclaim any suggestion on our part that
Aztatlán and Culiacán are to be fitted into the Aztec migration myth. We think this
country was pre-Aztecan in culture, that it was settled early from the south, and that
Culiacán was a frontier facing north, not a section on an expansion southward’ (p. 32).
Pottery was the single most abundant item of ancient material culture
encountered by the authors in the field (Figure 18): ‘The Aztatlán culture excelled in
pottery making. With few exceptions the ware is made of fine paste, and in many cases
is thin, tough, and very well polished. Ground shells in part were used for tempering…
There was much variety in form and decoration… Perhaps the most distinctive feature
of decoration is engraving rather than color painting’. Apart from the many kinds of
decorated vessels, and the myriad potsherds, Sauer and Brand mention that ‘terracotta
figurines are found throughout… in some localities they are… much more striking than
the pottery remnants… [or] tepalcates’ (p. 33). ‘Other ceramic forms were: (1) pipes,
with bowl at right angle to stem, always decorated in some manner, the stem not
uncommonly an animal; (2) malacates or spindle whorls… [They are] very common,
and often engraved like the pottery; (3) perforated cylinders with raised dies… appear to
have been mechanical devices for stamping decorations (on fabric or skin?)’ (pp. 34-
35).
The treatment given to the dead was also noted, as it was a significant cultural
feature: ‘Urn burials appeared throughout, apparently beneath the floors of the houses…
There tinajas [jars] as high as two feet were employed’. Sauer and Brand also made
observations about architecture and settlement patterns: ‘The Culiacán area may have
had towns built of mud houses. Throughout the area occasional rows of foundation
stones indicate that some houses were built of walls that needed a strong supporting
base, presumably mud or adobe walls’. A component of domestic and public
architecture consisted of ‘mound construction… an important characteristic of this
culture [that] is thought to have served both for protection of households from flood and
mud and to have been developed for ceremonial purposes’ (p. 36).
Sauer and Brand conclude their report on a somewhat sad note: ‘Aztatlán
furnishes one of the most distressing chapters in the story of the destruction of the
Indies. Faint traces of aboriginal life apparently still exist. That this land once belonged
in the higher culture area of Mexico has been forgotten because of its sudden ruin,
 84

because there were no missionary chroniclers to perpetuate its record, and because rain
and flood have obliterated the more conspicuous material evidence’ (pp. 61-62).
After Sauer and Brand’s explorations of this portion of West Mexico, Gordon
Ekholm excavated at Guasave, Sinaloa (1942). What he found there prompted him to
state that ‘considering merely the number of traits common to the Aztatlán complex
culture of Guasave and to the various cultures of the central highlands of Mexico, there
can be little doubt as to the cultural affiliation between the two areas’ (p. 126). Kelly
also found examples in the same general area of ceramic styles bearing a resemblance to
Mixteca Puebla: in Chametla (1938: plates 1 and 8), and Culiacán (1945: Figures 19-37,
and plates 1, 2, 4).
Bell (1971) had this to say about Ekholm’s work in Sinaloa: ‘The traits which
Ekholm associates with the Aztatlán complex at Guasave are obviously derived from
southern sources, principally the Mixteca-Puebla area and the valley of Mexico. He
believes that the similarities are too close and specific… and postulates a migration of
peoples from the Mixteca-Puebla area to Guasave’ (p. 750).
Writing in the mid-to-late 1960s, Meighan (1971) said that, ‘since the original
survey work of Sauer and Brand, Postclassic remains in the Sinaloa area have been
referred to a complex or horizon given the name of Aztatlán. This term has been used in
different ways by different writers and is subject to some confusion’ (p. 760). This
confusion stemmed from the fact that the term Aztatlán had ‘been applied to a time
horizon, a ceramic style (never defined in detail), and sometimes to a geographic
region… In general, Aztatlán has come to mean a complex of elaborate polychrome
ceramics, quite late in time, and restricted to Sinaloa and northern Nayarit… the…
horizon spanned some 500 years… The end… is usually set at about AD 1400, or just
prior to the Spanish conquest’ (p. 761).
J. Charles Kelley and Howard Winters (1960) published a review of the
archaeological sequence of Sinaloa, where they state that the coastal area of
northwestern Mexico lying along the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of California has long
been of interest to archaeologists. ‘This narrow strip of land… was a potential corridor
of cultural and ethnic movement between Mesoamerica and the American Southwest.
Furthermore, at the time of the Spanish conquest, a tongue of Mesoamerican culture
actually occupied this area’ (p. 547). In the years 1952, 1954, 1956 and 1958, the
Southern Illinois University conducted archaeological fieldwork in the state of Durango,
in northern Mexico. Those investigations resulted in the discovery of a great number of
 85

trade potsherds and other artifacts apparently imported from the Sinaloa coastal region.
The excavators found that in general, the position of the Sinaloa intrusive elements in
the Durango sequence confirmed the coastal Sinaloa sequence (p. 547).
Kelley and Winters summarize the Sinaloa archaeological sequence, recognizing
‘three horizons of culture: an earlier Chametla horizon (with two phases or periods)
known only from the south; a pan-Sinaloa (and Nayarit-Jalisco) coastal culture, the
Aztatlán complex… and a subsequent Culiacán horizon, lasting until the Spanish
conquest’. In terms of the general Mesoamerican chronology of cultural development,
Kelley and Winters propose that ‘the Chametla horizon [may] be regarded as essentially
Classic in age; the Aztatlán horizon as Early Postclassic (Toltec), and the Culiacán
horizon as Late Postclassic… in affiliation’ (pp. 548-549).
Thus, the Durango evidence as presented by Kelley and Winters (1960) verifies
the sequence of the Sinaloa coastal area, but also suggests that the Aztatlán horizon
should be divided into three separate complexes, which have temporal significance.
These chronological entities are (from early-to-late) the Lolandis, Acaponeta and
Guasave phases (pp. 554, 559).
In the same general time frame (1946) as the work discussed above, E. W.
Gifford made a surface survey of the Ixtlán del Río area in Nayarit (reviewed in Lister
1951). Lister (1951) mentions that in 1931 the University of California bought a
collection of archaeological materials from Nayarit and other regions of West Mexico
that included 50 ceramic figurines from the Ixtlán del Río (Nayarit) region. In 1946,
Gifford visited Ixtlán, ‘in order to become acquainted with the source of this excellent
collection and to acquire sherds which would show the pottery types associated with the
figurines’ (Lister 1951:67). Gifford made no excavations during this visit, but collected
items of ‘pottery and stone… from the surface and exposed banks of 16 sites in the
vicinity of Ixtlán’ (p. 67).
On the basis of stratigraphy and stylistic traits, three pre-Hispanic cultural
horizons were documented by Gifford in this area. According to these findings, ‘the
culture of Ixtlán is linked with the Nayarit-Sinaloa coastal cultures of the north and with
the Autlán-Tuxcacuesco cultures to the south, but… Ixtlán possesses much that is
unique’ (p. 67). Gifford thought that the Ixtlán figurine complex could have been
contemporaneous with Late Teotihuacan, while the Middle Period defined by Gifford
and others ‘contains certain pottery wares belonging to the Aztatlán complex, and also
annular-base molcajates… pottery plaques, [and] nubbin and flanged ware’. According
 86

to Gifford, ‘the presence of the Aztatlán complex at Ixtlán bears out its wide distribution
as originally supposed by Sauer and Brand’ (p. 67).
Lister ends his review of Gifford’s book with the following statement: ‘The
archaeology of western Mexico is still so poorly known that all real contributions are
very significant. Certainly this paper is a real contribution and Gifford has utilized his
surface material to the fullest advantage’ (p. 67).
We can cite Bell’s words to sum up the main ideas about the culture history of
the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit-Sinaloa area during our ‘Period II’ of the history of West
Mexican archaeology:
On the basis of present evidence… it can be said that the cultures of a wide area
of West Mexico, extending from southern coastal Colima to southern Nayarit,
were linked on the Late Preclassic-Early Classic level by the shaft-tomb
complex… the basic features of the complex… were present throughout the area
of its occurrence, but… those of Colima and southern Jalisco can be placed in
one group, those of northern Jalisco and southern Nayarit in another. The Late
Classic cultures fall into roughly the same two groups, but without the unifying
element [of] the shaft-tomb complex. Not until the Early Postclassic, with the
appearance of the Aztatlán complex… can common threads again be traced (Bell
1971:751).
Period III: 1950-1970
During the 1950s and 1960s, and to some extent up to the 1970s, archaeology in the
Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and Sinaloa area was dominated by studies of pottery and other
material manifestations. In some instances we see the first attempts to explore areas that
had been completely or relatively ‘virgin’ in terms of archaeological exploration.
Interest focused primarily on culture history with little, if any, focus on cultural process.
In 1956, the University of California at Los Angeles excavated at Peñitas, Nayarit
(Bordaz 1964), and in 1960 at Amapa (Bell 1971:698; Meighan [editor] 1976). During
three field seasons (1961, 1962, 1963) UCLA conducted ‘Project A’, an archaeological
survey of the central and southern coast of the Pacific Ocean. Several test pits were
excavated as part of this project, at Santa Cruz and Chacala, Nayarit, among other sites.
Meanwhile, in the southwestern area of Jalisco, Kelly excavated several archaeological
sites between Tuxcacuesco and Zapotitlán. In addition, surface collections are reported
from the northern Nayarit coast and Ixtlán del Río, Nayarit, from Autlán and areas along
the coast of Nayarit, Jalisco and Colima and, finally, from the Caxcana region along the
 87

Jalisco-Zacatecas border (Bell 1971:698). Bell sums up this series of archaeological

investigations as an ‘oddly assorted mass of material, [of] uneven… quality and
coverage and much of it unpublished, which must be fitted together in a report on the
archaeology of Nayarit, Jalisco, and Colima’ (p. 699).
Surface collections of ceramic materials (mostly potsherds), few excavations,
and even fewer studies of architecture or other features from an anthropological
perspective, characterized West Mexican archaeology during this period. Much
attention was paid to the complex and widespread funerary traditions, in particular the
shaft tombs and clay figures found in them. Bell (1971) makes several interesting points
about the shaft tombs of Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit as they were perceived in the
1960s: ‘The shaft tombs provide a strong suggestion of contact with distant areas on the
Late Preclassic-Early Classic time level. In Mexico, shaft-and-chamber tombs are
known only in the [west]… but they are widespread in northern South America and…
extend south into Peru and north into southern Central America’ (p. 748). Bell further
states that ‘the existence of such tombs in this single area of western Mexico is evidence
of early, water-borne contact with northern South America, [while] the prevalence of
Caribbean shells… suggests that this area participated in a rather wide network of trade
by at least the Early Classic’ (p. 748).
José Corona Nuñez (1955) conducted one of the first studies of a shaft tomb in
West Mexico. His research took place near the town of Etzatlán, located ‘in the midst of
the Laguna de la Magdalena (formerly Xochitépec), which today is completely dry…
the lake was in a geologic process of desiccation, so most of the time it was a swamp,
until it was permanently dried up’ (p. 6).
The tomb was found in the potrero (paddock) of El Arenal, and consisted of a
long, vertical shaft or pit (16 m deep) and three vaults (Figure 19). According to
Corona Núñez, the tomb ‘is similar to many others found in Nayarit, Colima and
Jalisco. Up to today, no shaft tombs like these have been found in the rest of
Mesoamerica, but there are others, almost identical to the West Mexican ones, in the
region of the Upper Cauca River in Colombia. This is a fascinating fact that deserves
close inspection’ (p. 7).
Corona Núñez also observed that ‘West Mexican shaft tombs were the object of
rampant looting after the introduction of the railway from Nogales to Guadalajara in
1925, which led to the discovery of many archaeological sites in Nayarit’.
Unfortunately, looting reached an extreme level in West Mexico, so much so that the
 88

National Institute of Anthropology and History had to set up a Department of

Anthropology and History in Nayarit. This department implemented strict oversight of
the archaeological areas, ‘but when looters were blocked in Nayarit they just moved to
Jalisco’ (p. 7).
In March 1955, the tomb at El Arenal, Etzatlán, was ransacked by looters. Six
days after that unfortunate event, archaeologists arrived to begin a salvage operation of
the remaining grave goods (a few small pottery fragments, bone fragments, and other
bits and pieces), and conduct a study of the tomb’s construction. Corona Nuñez
described the tomb in these words: ‘Atop a hill there is a mound of around 10 m in
diameter and 2 m high, surrounded by smaller mounds’ (p. 7). He excavated in the
center of one of these mounds, where he found a 16 m-deep vertical shaft, square in
shape (1.5 m per side). At the bottom of the shaft there was a tunnel on the south side,
1.40 m long and 90 cm high, which led to a chamber of quadrangular shape (4.24 by
3.90 m) that had a floor made of stone slabs. The four walls of the chamber curved
upward to a height of 2.42 m.
Corona Núñez found that this chamber connected to a 3 m-long tunnel leading to
another chamber, which was 59 cm deeper and had a height of 2.54 m. A third tunnel
was also found, this one 1.10 m in length and connected to a chamber similar to the
ones just described, with a square floor (3.50 by 3.40 m) and a height of 2.89 m. In this
chamber, excavators were able to find fragments of human skeletons lying on the floor,
with the skulls pointing toward the entrance tunnel. Corona Núñez tells us that, ‘this is
how one usually finds human remains in these tombs. Apparently, corpses were lowered
into the burial chambers tied by the armpits and were introduced in the chambers feet
first. Once the burial operation was over, the entrance to the tunnel was blocked with a
stone slab, and the shaft was filled with loose earth, without leaving any mark on the
ground surface’ (p. 8).
Some of the original contents of the looted tomb are known, thanks to a rural
teacher from the nearby town of Santa Rosalía who took several photos of the figurines
originally deposited inside the three tomb chambers and gave them to Corona Núñez.
Also, the tomb’s original contents were surmised on the basis of a few pottery
fragments found by the excavators in the course of their explorations. The looted
figurines consisted of a ball-player with gloves on his hands, a kilt or wrap around the
waist, which might represent a leather protector (like the one used by Mesoamerican
ball-players), and a medallion hanging over his abdomen. A companion female figure
 89

could be his wife or retainer; she had the ollin (movement) sign painted on one of her
cheeks. Another hollow clay figure showed what appeared to be a warrior, who was
wearing the typical protective cotton garment (called ixcahuipilli by the Aztecs) and
helmet, and holding a mace. The remaining anthropomorphic figures included a woman
with an unusual deformation in her cheeks, a nude male figure seated on a bench, and a
warrior similar to the one mentioned above (p. 9).
The looters also found several decorated clay vessels inside the tomb chambers:
two square urns with a lid and a pot with restricted rim, all made of buff-color clay with
good texture and a polished surface with decorations in red. The urn lids are decorated
with a painted design in the shape of ollin with the four cardinal points marked. This
may strengthen the idea that the first figure was indeed a ball-player. The schoolteacher
mentioned above, together with her pupils, found many items lying in the earth that the
looters had extracted from the tomb. Those findings consisted of green tubular jade
beads (probably part of a necklace, 1 cm long by 5 mm wide) and other small
adornments of the same material. Also found were tubular beads of a kind of white jade
with grey streaks, and several half-moons and small perforated flakes also made of
green stone (pp. 10-11). Corona Núñez sums up his report by stating that, ‘this tomb is
the most important of its kind found up to this day in West Mexico. It is unique because
of the shape of its vaults’ (p. 11).
Shortly after Corona Núñez’s work at El Arenal, Peter Furst (1965) presented an
unusual interpretation of shaft-tomb clay figures from Colima, Jalisco and Nayarit. He
suggested that ethnographic data on shamanism, obtained from the Huichol and other
(modern) ethnic groups of Jalisco and Nayarit, could be used in the interpretation of the
pre-Hispanic art found in the shaft tombs in that area (Figure 20). Bell (1971) made the
following remarks about this line of research: ‘In terms of shamanistic beliefs, ritual and
paraphernalia... [Furst] brings together a mass of ethnographic detail from both the New
World and the Old World, and it can be said… that he makes a persuasive case within
certain limits… he deals with Mesoamerican and northern South American
ethnographic data… but it is clear that not all the shaft-tomb figurines can be interpreted
in this way’ (p. 749). According to George Kubler (1984), ‘it has often been thought
that West Mexican art, in its protective aboriginal isolation, escaped much of the
tyranny by ritual that characterizes other Mesoamerican regions, and that its
manufacturers merely “report” daily village life’. Kubler mentions that Furst ‘sought to
connect living Cora and Huichol ethnography with West Mexican archaeology, on the
 90

score of shamanism and the ritual use of hallucinogenic plants’. Kubler holds that ‘the
hypothesis is attractively simple, but it presupposes that ancient peoples were less
changeable and more alike than the archaeological finds warrant. It also avoids that
modern shamanism is a recent rustic development’ (p. 195).
Moving forward in time, and to Nayarit’s coastal plain, we find that Gordon L.
Grosscup (1961) reports on archaeological excavations near Amapa, Nayarit, performed
by UCLA, which ‘revealed a long sequence of occupation… Close similarities have
been noted to the material… from northern and central Nayarit… A clear sequence of
human figurine types is apparent from the Amapa excavations’ (p. 390).
Figurine fragments were particularly common in one area of Amapa. Grosscup
points out that ‘many mold-made figurines showing elaborate facial and body features
and headdresses have been found in the northwestern part of the Valley of Mexico.
They are associated with an archaeological culture called ‘Mazapan’… [dating] to about
AD 1100. Figurines resembling these have been found in many other places in Mexico’.
Grosscup found a number of different varieties of mold-made figurines in Amapa
(Types A-J). ‘No two figurines are identical, but a number show sufficient similarities
to one another or distinctiveness from the bulk of the specimens to be considered as
distinct typologically’ (see Grosscup 1961: Figure 1). For example, Type A includes
‘most of the mold-made Mazapan figurines… The common features of this type include
a two-lobed headdress, a circular pendant on the chest and a V-shaped garment running
from the shoulders to the waist’ (p. 391).
After studying the figurines, Grosscup came to the conclusion that, ‘it seems
clear that the Amapa specimens are not trade pieces. The presence of a fragment of a
mold for making Mazapan figurines at Amapa… attests to the fact that at least some of
these figurines were made locally’ (p. 392). Grosscup (1961: Figure 7) presents a table
with the relative chronological position of Amapa figurines where one can see ‘an
abrupt break between the Early and Late periods… the sharp cleavage between the two
main periods is undoubtedly real… Further evidence of the break between the two
periods may be obtained by examining the ceramics. There are no transitional types;
that is, no Early type may be seen as directly ancestral to any Late type’. It is important
to note, as well, that copper objects, molcajetes and distinctive spindle whorls also
appear among the Late period ceramics. Therefore, the interpretation which posits that
the Late period marks the invasion of the area by a new people would seem like a
credible hypothesis (p. 404).
 91

With the appearance of the Late period peoples (ca. AD 900-1100), ‘figurine
resemblances shift to the south and east and probably indicate the direction from which
these people came… Ekholm… has suggested a Mixteca-Puebla invasion at Guasave…
Analysis of the Amapa Late period ceramics will undoubtedly throw much light on this
and other related problems. The figurines by themselves are inadequate to answer the
question’ (p. 405).
In the same cultural area and general time frame as Grosscup, Stanley Long
made a thorough investigation of several shaft tombs found at Etzatlán, starting around
1963. Following the usual pattern, he studied the contents of one of the tombs that had
already been looted, but on this occasion the artifacts were still in the hands of an
‘antiquities dealer’ in the area, who allowed Long to study them (Long 1966). Long’s
doctoral dissertation was based on the analysis of these burial materials. This research is
important because it pioneered a methodology for analyzing the contents of shaft tombs
in West Mexico, including the following analytical techniques: osteological analysis,
nitrogen and ultraviolet analysis of human bone, comparative stylistic and technical
analysis of clay, shell and stone artifacts, hydration measurements of obsidian artifacts,
and radiocarbon dating of both shell artifacts and human bone.
Long’s study is remarkable in the history of archaeological research in Jalisco,
because he outlined –for the first time– the early culture history of one significant
ecological zone, the Magdalena Lake Basin, for a period of some 700 years. Long
proposed that after this period (from the Late Preclassic, ca. 300 BC, to the Early
Classic, ca. AD 400) there was a ‘cultural break’ and then a new tradition took over,
which persisted until the arrival of the Spaniards in the early 16th century. The materials
discussed in Long’s dissertation include the following: a proposed typology of three
styles of hollow clay figures based on attribute analysis, illustration and description of a
corpus of clay vessels, a descriptive typology of shell and green-stone artifacts and,
finally, the documentation and analysis of several previously-unknown forms of shaft-
tomb architecture.
Previous to Long’s research activities, a team of archaeologists from the UCLA
made a survey of the area around Etzatlán in 1962. This survey found that as many as
19 tombs had been looted at El Arenal since the one reported by Corona Núñez (see
above). In addition to this, the survey team recorded 13 sacked cemeteries, which had
been abandoned by the looters because they were no longer regarded as profitable to
work. Meanwhile, the archaeologists learned that an art dealer had acquired the
 92

complete assemblage of a shaft tomb from the Etzatlán area. The UCLA team was able
to locate that looted tomb with the help of local informants. During the archaeological
excavation of this feature, several artifacts and physical remains of the burials were
found scattered in the earth. Apparently, they had been left behind by the looters inside
the tomb chambers. These small finds, together with information provided by local
people, allowed the archaeologists to affirm that the collection had indeed been
extracted from the tomb in question (Long 1966:11-12).
According to Long’s description of the tomb, it consisted of a vaulted chamber
measuring 3.25 m2 in area by 1.75 m in height. The tomb chamber had been dug out in a
thick layer of volcanic tuff, locally known as tepetate. The chamber was located next to
a 4.6 m-deep shaft with a tunnel that connected it to the tomb chamber (p. 13). The shaft
entrance had been blocked with stones by the original builders, and the shaft filled with
loose earth and tepetate. Obviously, the primary context of the tomb with its burials and
offerings was no longer available in situ to Long and his associates, but they solved this
problem (at least in part) by talking to local informants who provided data that allowed
for a hypothetical reconstruction of the tomb as it might have appeared in its pristine
condition. According to the informants, the tomb contained nine skeletons, all laid out
in extended supine position with beads and small shell pieces around the arms and
skulls. Some had obsidian mirrors on their chests. Large conch-shell trumpets (a
common attribute of shaft tombs) were found beside some of the skeletons, while large
hollow clay figures and clay vessels (bowls and boxes) had been deposited around the
tomb’s occupants. The tomb also contained metates (querns) and piles of bones in a
corner (p. 13).
Long reports that at least nine adult individuals (and two fetuses) had been
interred in the tomb, five of which were female and one male, while the rest were of
undetermined gender, though ‘measurements of robusticity… suggested that the two
larger figures represent males’ (pp. 17-18). Long made a hypothetical reconstruction of
the chain of events that may have led to the formation of the burial assemblage under
discussion. First, the tomb was probably occupied by corpses and artifacts pertaining to
four or five separate interment events, one of which may have included retainers to
accompany an important personage. ‘The tomb was made to receive the remains of two
individuals… both female, which were placed at the back of the chamber with hollow
figures and square vessels. Later… a male was interred in the chamber with three male
ceramic figures, an atlatl and a shell trumpet.’ Later, after a long period of time had
 93

elapsed –perhaps 100 years– the tomb was opened again, this time to receive the body
of one individual, probably a female, while the offerings pertaining to this burial,
mostly clay bowls, were placed in the southwest corner of the chamber. After another
100 years had elapsed, a new burial took place in the tomb, this time a male with four
female companions, accompanied by male clay hollow figures, an atlatl and a small
shell trumpet (p. 41).
According to Long, ‘the ages and sex ratio of the various skeletons suggest
special or partial retainer burial’. Five of the seven females ranged in age from around
22 to 36 years, while one of the two males was around 41 years old at death: ‘This
seems to be consistent with the interpretation that the man and his female retainers died
at about the same time’ (pp. 41-42).
Scarcely one year after defending his doctoral dissertation, Stanley Long had his
life cut short by a tragic accident. Meighan wrote a poignant obituary, recounting how
Long ‘died by drowning in Colombia, while in a field expedition… [Long’s] death at
the age of 30 deprives American archaeology of a vigorous and productive young
researcher, who had already made significant contributions to New World archaeology’
(Meighan 1969:72).
Our focus now shifts from the Lake Magdalena Basin to the Pacific coast.
Between 1960 and 1962, Meighan and his associates made studies at the Morett site
near the northern coast of Colima. The site proved to have ‘extensive remains dating
back to the Preclassic’. At the time of Meighan’s writing, ‘the Morett site is the most
northern known Preclassic site on the west coast of Mexico… the… site documents an
important point, namely that basic features of developing Mesoamerican civilization
were shared by the west coast peoples in the first millennium BC’ (Meighan 1972:1).
He further pointed out that ‘in the past, there has been some tendency to view the west
coast of Mexico as quite marginal to Mesoamerican developments… [as if it] was not a
participant in Mesoamerican civilization until rather late, when Classic peoples
penetrated this region from central Mexico… Work at the Morett site helps to correct
this false impression, particularly for pottery figurines’ (p. 1).
This archaeological work at the Morett site was carried out as part of a
coordinated research program of the Institute of Andean Research (New York), entitled
‘Interrelationships of New World Cultures’. That program included an extensive series
of investigations conducted by different scholars along the Pacific coast from the Rio
Grande de Santiago in West Mexico south as far as Ecuador. Of the many collaborating
 94

institutions, UCLA participated with ‘Project A’, which covered the central Pacific
coast of Mexico, the northernmost of the coastal regions studied by this broad initiative.
The principle researchers on the UCLA project were Meighan and Henry B. Nicholson,
accompanied by several graduate students from the university. Several sites were
excavated, and extensive survey work was undertaken during the three field seasons.
Fieldwork at the Morett site was done in three phases:
1. A surface collection was made early in 1960 as part of the survey of west coast sites
under the supervision of H. B. Nicholson. Analysis of the ceramic fragments collected
indicated that the Morett material was likely to be of greater age than other sites
surveyed up to that time.
2. On the basis of the analysis of surface finds, ‘excavations were initiated at the Morett
site in 1961. Several other sites were investigated during this field season, and the
Morett excavations consisted of only two stratigraphic test pits. These, however, yielded
a sample of some 28,000 sherds and numerous small finds from stratigraphic columns…
In addition, charcoal samples were taken for the first direct indications of the age of the
materials’ (p. 2). Preliminary analysis of field samples verified Meighan’s opinion that
much of the Morett material was of Preclassic age.
3. The field study was carried out in the third season (1962), once more under the
overall supervision of H. B. Nicholson, while Dr. Gordon F. Ekholm served as the lead
researcher for the program ‘The Interrelationships of New World Cultures’. During this
stage of fieldwork, ‘several additional pits were excavated to a total of seven
stratigraphic pits in all. Four of the pits were over 3 m in depth; the deepest (Pit 6) was
360 cm deep’. This work was important because it ‘greatly expanded the sample of
sherds and artifacts and provided much additional cultural information. Most important
was the encountering of seven burials, one of them a multiple burial of at least eight
individuals, in stratigraphic context. The multiple burial provided a small but
exceptionally important collection of whole vessels and figurines’ (p. 2).
The Morett site is located about three miles southeast of the modern city of
Cihuatlán, Jalisco, on the flanks of low hills that border the coastal plain near the
Cihuatlán (or Marabasco) River. ‘The site area is about 250 m in diameter and extends
from the flat farmland up a gentle slope to about 10 m elevation, with the heaviest
occupation concentrated on the lower margins of the slope immediately adjacent to the
level land… The site deposit, about 4 m deep in the deepest areas, is apparently due
 95

entirely to refuse accumulation and the rebuilding of some sort of temporary houses’ (p.
5).
There was no evidence of constructed mounds or deliberate modifications of any
kind on the terrain, nor signs of structures on the surface. The excavations did not find
any building remains except for some clay floor fragments, and abundant clay pieces
with stick impressions representing the remains of wattle-and-daub houses. The site is
not situated in a strategic area for defensive purposes, and is at a considerable distance
from available water supplies, but the location offered good agricultural soil, and a
slight elevation that protected against flooding caused by either overflow from the river
or heavy summer rains.
At the time the site was occupied, water for domestic use may have come from
springs or, perhaps, a meander of the Cihuatlán River that no longer exists. At present,
the only available water at the site is from wells about 5 m deep. In Meighan’s opinion,
the site ‘represents a small farming village of wattle and daub houses that had clay
floors. The population could not have been more than a few hundred people. The
general absence of constructed mounds or other evidences of community effort suggests
that the Morett site was a satellite of another community somewhere nearby’. Meighan
opined that, on the whole, Preclassic ceremonial centers in West Mexico ‘are to be
defined in somewhat different terms from the usual mound and plaza construction found
in the more central parts of Mesoamerica’ (p.7).
In discussing the sample excavations, Meighan points out that ‘digging at the
Morett site consisted of seven test pits… The nature of the “Project A” program
required testing a number of sites with small excavations rather than committing a full-
scale excavation program to a single site’ (p. 7). The total sample from all the
stratigraphic pits amounted to 86.9 m3 of excavation; this was a minute fraction of the
total site deposit. Although the excavation sample was much less than 1 percent of the
total midden deposit at the site, the cultural remains were so abundant that ‘the sherd
and artifact sample is more than adequate for… determining the cultural chronology and
defining the level of culture present at the site. The quantity of pottery was very great…
The sample also includes a good assemblage of figurines, artifacts, and burials, some
with associated grave offerings’ (p. 11).
The only major surface feature at the Morett site ‘is a large granite boulder
bearing bedrock mortar depressions… This rock is on the uphill margin of the site and
is merely an outcrop of the native rock in this region. The boulder is two by four
 96

meters… There are 11 bedrock mortar depressions, some just started and only a few
centimeters in depth.’ Meighan assumed ‘that these mortars were used at the time of the
Morett occupation’ (p. 11).
Meighan was one of the pioneers of obsidian hydration analysis for
archaeological dating in Mesoamerica. 9 This is important because the obsidian
chronology developed from the Morett material was later applied to some 15 other sites
in West Mexico, and was valid in the sense that it ‘conforms to the evidence of
radiocarbon dates and ceramic associations in these other sites as well as in the Morett
site… The hydration readings for the Morett site total 115… Most of the specimens are
chips and flakes and only a few are finished artifacts’ (p. 14). Meighan (1972) thought
that ‘the principal value of the obsidian dating in the context of the Morett collection is
in delineating the span of occupation at the site and in showing the elapsed time for the
different cultural levels and periods… This is a particularly valuable supplement of
dating information for the Late period at the site’ (p. 14).
In addition to the radiocarbon dates and obsidian hydration determinations,
pottery seriations were developed to help understand the process of cultural change at
Morett and to align the cultural levels with one another on the basis of the extant
ceramic types. However, Meighan believed that the Morett collection was not an ideal
one for seriation purposes, since around 95 percent of the pottery was Morett Plain, and
if that type was included in the seriation it would dominate the picture and obscure any
signs of cultural change that might be present. Another problem faced by the excavators
was that the other 5 percent of decorated pottery was distributed in small amounts
among 29 varieties of decorated ware, not all of which occurred throughout the history
of the site, with some (like the plain ware) appearing at more-or-less constant
frequencies from the bottom to the top of the deposit. In the end, ‘all individual
seriations made use of two of the decorated types: Morett Engraved and Morett Red on
Brown… The third type of the individual seriations… include[d] one of the following:
Morett Polychrome, Morett Blackrim, grooved and gadrooned, Morett Appliqué, Morett
Redrim, Morett Buff.’ One result of this study of local pottery was that it allowed
Meighan to better grasp the relative chronology: ‘Nearly all the Morett occupation falls
within a millennium, and the great bulk is probably within a span of 600 years’ (pp. 14-

9
Meighan et al. (1968) held that obsidian dating as applied to West Mexico showed ‘some ways in which the archaeologist can
establish a hydration rate and estimate correction factors. Once this is done, use of the method provides an immediate guide to
practical decisions about the choice of sites for excavation, and in addition contributes directly to several important areas of analysis
of collections’ (p. 1074).
 97

15). Meighan’s archaeological investigation included studying burials, 11 human

interments and one of a dog. Dog burials were common in this time level in Mexico. At
Chupícuaro, for instance, 49 dog burials were reported by Porter (1956), who also
discussed the distribution of such interments in Mexico.
Most of the human remains found at the Morett site were in extremely poor
condition, with only the densest bones preserved to any significant degree. In fact, ‘all
small bones, ribs, and vertebrae were entirely absent, and at times even the smaller long
bones were missing. The physical remains consisted almost entirely of fragmentary
skulls and long bones. As a result, only a partial picture of burial practices can be
presented, and there is some uncertainty over the number of individuals present in those
areas where several burials seem to have been made’ (Meighan 1972:22).
Meighan thought that ‘in a general way, the Morett remains are similar to those
of Chupícuaro which is contemporaneous in part to the Morett burials. Both sites have
extended burials accompanied by figurines and mortuary ceramics including small
effigy vessels. The Chupícuaro sample is much larger, but may not represent a more
complex society’ (p. 25). Both the frequency and the size of offerings are not too
different from the Morett burial customs (though Morett has no rich graves). However,
one should bear in mind that ‘ceramic types from Chupícuaro and Morett are different,
and the comparison made here is between mortuary patterns, not between individual
artifact types’ (p. 25). Another early mortuary pattern mentioned by Meighan was found
in Tlatilco, central Mexico, which ‘although largely earlier than the Morett site, is in
some ways more like Morett than Chupícuaro is. Similarities include the abundant use
of engraved pottery in both sites, similarity in the figurines, and even the occurrence of
effigy vessels in the form of a pig’ (p. 25).
In his discussion of the pottery from Morett, Meighan says that ‘Western Mexico
is characterized by a remarkable diversity of ceramic styles, in which each river valley,
each mountain range, almost each major site, yields distinctive ceramic assemblages.
Although some major categories of pottery, such as engraved wares and red on brown
wares, are found throughout the coastal region, the treatment of the wares is distinctive,
and it is often possible to distinguish the ceramics from two contemporaneous sites only
a few miles apart’ (p. 26).
For various reasons not specified by the author, ‘the sherds of the first season
were sorted in the field and only rim and decorated sherds were retained for analysis.
Over 80% of the total sherd collection consisted of plain body sherds and was discarded
 98

in the field… In the second season the total sample of sherds was retained and the
present analysis is based on a full collection of sherds’ (p. 27).
The ceramic assemblage at Morett was quite varied. The population of the site
had pottery items to serve all daily needs, such as bulk storage (including water),
represented by large, thick-walled vessels (up to 60 cm or more in diameter and 30 mm
thick). Cooking apparently occupied mainly jars of varying type and size, while dishes
(mostly small bowls) were used for serving food. Grinding is represented by grater
bowls called molcajetes. The assemblage at Morett includes miniature vessels of
unknown use; they were relatively common in the excavation, and virtually every type
of pottery in the site includes some miniature vessels less than 5 or 6 cm in diameter.
These tiny items are too small for cooking or storage, so their use remains open to
interpretation.
A variety of pottery manufactures occur largely, or exclusively, in the Morett
graves; therefore, they must be considered to have been made especially for use as
mortuary offerings and not for use in daily domestic activities. Pottery of this class
includes some elaborate polychromes, specialized miniature vessels, and polychrome
effigy vessels. The last category reported by Meighan consists of clay figurines: ‘A
major item of manufacture at the Morett site is the solid pottery figurine. These are
exceedingly numerous; more abundant than usual in West Mexican sites. The purposes
for which figurines were produced remain unclear; whole specimens are found with
burials, but the great majority of figurines are broken and they are ordinarily found in
domestic refuse’ (p. 33) (Figure 21). Anthropomorphic figurines are the most abundant
artifacts at the Morett site next to potsherds. The number of figurines in the site’s
collection is very large considering the small amount of excavation, as a total of 1,438
human figurines were recovered (p. 63).
Meighan points out that ‘this discussion of the possible cultural significance of
the figurines does not resolve any of the difficulties in interpretation; it is presented
primarily to show how inadequate our archaeological knowledge remains for one of the
most abundant classes of artifacts found in Mexico’ (p. 73). Part of the problem lies in
the fact that multiple meanings must have existed; ‘it is likely that different kinds of
figurines had different meanings, and even that a single figurine type had more than one
meaning. A further complexity is that figurines may have sacred connotations for a
particular ritual or ceremony, but lose such connotations once the ceremony is
 99

completed’ (p. 73). This idea may be supported by ethnohistorical evidence, such as the
‘deity figurines’ of the Aztecs (pp. 73-74).
In comparison to the ceramic assemblage, the stone industry at Morett was
described by Meighan as being ‘rather crude and simple, although a considerable
amount of stone working was done. A total of 131 stone artifacts was recorded, mostly
fragmentary… and several dozen pieces of chipping waste were recovered’ (p. 74). The
lithic tool inventory includes items of ground stone, such as querns or metates. Most of
them consisted of small fragments and revealed few if any diagnostic features.
Although no fragments of portable mortars were found, Meighan mentions ‘that
there are bedrock mortars at the site, and a couple of the manos may also have been
used as pestles. Hence, the site reveals a considerable variety of grinding implements’
(p. 75). Another stone tool class in addition to the metates consists of ‘two much smaller
examples identified as palettes. Both are surface finds of basalt, rectangular, without
legs’ (p. 75). Handstones or manos were relatively abundant: ‘A total of 28 manos was
recovered… They are mostly granite, about equally divided between round, one-handed
manos and the elongate, two-handed form’ (p. 75). Pestles were also used in grinding,
as evidenced by ‘two artifacts that may be pestles… both from early levels’. The list of
stone utensils goes on to include that ‘four fragmentary celts were recovered. The[y]…
are somewhat battered but when made they were finely polished over the whole surface’
(p. 75). Another class of items was identified by Meighan as ‘pot polishers’: ‘These
ubiquitous implements used in polishing and smoothing pottery are present in the
Morett site in the form of 15 pebbles, mostly of slate, showing fine striations resulting
from use’ (p. 75). Finally, a unique item found in the Morett excavations is a disc made
of slate, described by Meighan as ‘a small fragment of a finely finished slate disc,
originally about 12 cm in diameter was found in mixed levels. One side is coated with a
layer of red pigment about a millimeter thick; the other side is plain and finely
smoothed’ (p. 75).
Artifacts of chipped or flaked stone are scarce in the Morett collection. ‘All…
are obsidian with one exception. All obsidian from the site was collected by the
excavators, both worked and unworked items’ (p. 75). The total collection includes 119
specimens, ‘of which slightly over 77 percent… represent chipping waste… The
artifacts include the following: 13 examples of single flake blades; five rather crude
stemmed points; eight scrapers, seven of which are black obsidian and one is made of
 100

quartz crystal; there is a single crude and thick chipped object that may be either a point
or a drill’ (p. 76).
In addition to the ground and flaked or chipped stone objects, there are two other
classes of stone finds: 26 examples of hammerstones, all fist-sized cobbles of dense
fine-grained basalt or similar material. Finally, four specimens of natural quartz crystal
were found in the Morett excavations. They are not modified except for a ‘rough
battering at the end’ (p. 76).
Probably the most surprising find in this broad research project was a bronze
chisel, which elicited the following remarks from Meighan: ‘The only metal artifact in
the Morett collection is an exceptionally important [one] because of its dating and the
material of which it is made’ (p. 78). A fragment of a modern roof tile was found in the
same level, ‘suggesting that the bronze piece might be a recent intrusion. The ceramic
assemblage, however, shows no break in the frequencies of the pottery types which
would indicate major disturbance. It is concluded that the chisel belongs in a pre-
Hispanic context’ (p. 78).
In his conclusions to the Morett monograph, Meighan points out that ‘this report
has described two assemblages: Early Morett, a late Preclassic assemblage that is most
like the Tuxcacuesco complex of Jalisco… and Late Morett, a Classic period
assemblage that is not closely like any described assemblage but has typical red on
brown pottery and other traits widely distributed throughout the Classic of
Mesoamerica’ (p. 83). Meighan presents the following hypothesis: ‘It may be that the
site of Cihuatlán referred to by Kelly is the Morett site itself, but this identification is
not certain. In any case, it is clear that a description of the Morett collection provides a
solid body of data that can be used to determine whether the Cihuatlán ceramic province
is actually a separate cultural region’. Meighan’s opinion was ‘that it is not a separate
province on the Preclassic level, but it may well prove to be on Classic and later time
horizons’ (p. 83).
Meighan thought that ‘this kind of pottery strongly suggests a connection of
some kind between coastal Colima and regions far to the south (at least as far as
Guatemala and Central America) before the beginning of the Christian era. The
direction in which the influence moved, however, is not known. At present we do not
have any assemblages from West Mexico older than Early Morett’. Meighan concluded
that ‘the similarities discussed here indicate that the archaeology of West Mexico may
have much to contribute to our understanding of New World culture history not only in
 101

terms of relationships to adjacent Mesoamerican cultures but to the broad question of

the origin of civilization in the New World. The Morett site contributes its share of new
data toward resolution of local and continental problems in archaeology’ (p. 86).
After Meighan’s work at Morett was completed, he went on to make another
major contribution to West Mexican archaeology. This took place in the Lake Chapala
Basin, where Meighan and Leonard J. Foote conducted an archaeological excavation at
Tizapán El Alto, Jalisco, in 1965 and 1966. Meighan and Foote (1968) tell us that, by
the mid-1960s ‘in spite of the dedicated work of a few investigators, only a handful of
sites in all of western Mexico [had] been scientifically excavated and fully reported’ (p.
15). They further stated that the extant literature up to that period ‘consists in large part
of brief reconnaissance, attempts to reconstruct the archaeology from remnants of
disturbed and looted sites, and tentative delineation of archaeological zones on the basis
of distribution studies, themselves based on surface or inadequately described
specimens’ (p. 15). The Tizapán report ‘is based on what must be regarded as a minor
excavation. Only one mound of a large and complex site was explored, and even that
was sampled in only a small way’ (p. 15). However, in spite of this limitation, Meighan
and Foote were able ‘to present controlled excavation data from a cemetery area and for
the stratigraphic sequence of the Lake Chapala area. This work amplifies and
supplements the study of Lister at Cojumatlán, the only other published excavation of
any consequence for the immediate region of Lake Chapala’ (p. 16).
Meighan and Foote recount how ‘in July of 1964, agricultural workers dug a
small irrigation trench along the northeast edge of the mound at Tizapán in which our
investigations were conducted… Various local farm workers removed archaeological
materials found in the excavation of the irrigation ditch, and in addition continued
excavations in this part of the mound in search of saleable artifacts’ (p. 17). Apparently,
by the time archaeologists took notice of this accidental find, ‘some mortuary vessels as
well as an unknown quantity of other artifacts were found and sold in Chapala and
Ajijic… probably at least 10 and possibly 20 or 30 burials were removed or disturbed…
In December, 1964… Meighan visited the site to plan a possible salvage program’ (p.
17).
The Tizapán site lies in the center of the southeastern shore of Lake Chapala,
located on a peninsula between the modern town (Tizapán el Alto) and the shores of the
lake. ‘The entire peninsula is covered with widely-scattered mounds of varying sizes
and configurations over an area of a square kilometer or more. The mounds include
 102

rubbish, burial mounds and constructed pyramids or temple platforms faced with
unshaped stones’ (p. 22). No central plaza arrangement was found at the site, nor any
ball-courts or similar specialized constructions. Meighan thought that the mounds may
represent various periods of time and were not all in use simultaneously.
His reports on this site cover only a single mound (250 m long by 70 m wide,
with a maximum height of 2.8 m) on the shore of Lake Chapala. During his visit in
early 1965, the waterline was some 300 m north of the site and the lake bed was under
cultivation, while the entire mound had been under water at least twice in the 1930s (p.
22). The excavated mound contained some 16,000 m3 of material, consisting primarily
of the following: earth, ash, clay floors, domestic refuse and graves. Of this large
mound, 124 m3 were studied scientifically, so the sample ‘constitutes only ¾ of 1 per
cent of the overall volume of the mound’ (p. 23).
Meighan reports that ‘the 1965-1966 excavations… consisted of trenching and
test-pitting for purposes of burial salvage and recovery of stratigraphic samples of
cultural material from the site. During the first season, a 15 m-long east-west trench was
cut along the north slope of Mound 1… [near where] burials had been found by local
workmen… arbitrary unit-level excavation was abandoned in favor of following grave
pit outlines and exposing skeletons’ (p. 24).
Meighan and Foote were fortunate in that ‘except in three isolated cases… no
disturbance from grave-digging or other intrusive activity was noted in the stratigraphic
pits, and clear evidence of cultural stratification could be seen in both ceramic seriation
and the physical profile of the deposit… Thin bands of compacted clay (probably
floors) separated by zones of sherd-bearing midden and accumulations of ash were
largely confined to the upper 100 cm of the deposit’ (p. 25). Three radiocarbon dates
were secured during the excavation, indicating that the occupation of the mound at
Tizapán took place around AD 1000-1220 (p. 35).
In discussing the food resources available at the site, Meighan and Foote pointed
out that ‘direct evidence for environmental adaptation is meagre at Tizapán, as is the
case at most agricultural sites in a moist environment where plant remains are seldom
preserved. However… test pits… did yield carbonized kernels and cobs of corn… quite
similar to the recent varieties grown in this region’ (p. 39). Use of other food resources
is also suggested by finds at Tizapán, as discussed by the authors: ‘We must assume that
fish and perhaps waterfowl were important sources of protein for the inhabitants of
Tizapán, but the archaeological evidence consists solely of a copper fishhook’ (p. 39).
 103

However, the excavators found ‘no evidence of fish bones in the site, or at least in
Mound 1… There is also little bird bone present’ (p. 39). While the small projectile
points found in the site could have been used for hunting waterfowl, they probably had
other uses as well. Mammals represented in the collection include ‘armadillo, deer, and
rabbit. Only a handful of mammal bone fragments were found, and these were not
identified by specialists. The collection probably includes dog bones’ (pp. 39-40).
Meighan and Foote also found ‘scattered examples of fresh-water shells
(Anodonta sp. and Polygyra sp.)… The clam is edible but is used by modern Chapala
fishermen primarily for fish-bait… Shellfish must have constituted a very minor part of
the diet, if indeed they were consumed by humans at all’ (p. 40).
In spite of preservation problems, particularly for fish bone, the authors hold that
‘it is not likely that the virtual absence of faunal remains can be entirely attributed to
poor preservation’ (p. 40). They concluded ‘that the principal dietary resource was
maize agriculture, that fishing was present and formed an undetermined amount of the
total diet of the people, and that hunting of birds and mammals was incidental at
Tizapan’ (p. 40).
In their discussion of domestic architecture, Meighan and Foote say that ‘since
the excavations reported here were done in only a single mound of a large site, it is
impossible to say anything about settlement patterns or organization of the community.
Nearby mounds are faced with unshaped stone and may represent temple structures or
foundations. The excavated mound however appears to represent a residential area
along the lake shore, gradually building into a mound by accumulation of domestic
debris’ (p. 40).
The stratigraphic pits excavated at the site revealed considerable evidence of
house construction, though it was not possible to expose any complete floor, much less
a whole structure. ‘The first houses in this location were apparently built directly on the
lake edge. Houses were constructed by putting down a layer of clay from the river,
which was smoothed and tamped or beaten to produce a firm surface. At times large
rocks… were laid around the edge of the clay layer to keep the edges from weathering
away’ (p. 41). Such rocks may also have been used to separate rooms or contiguous
structures. The structure itself was made of wattle-and-daub, as attested by numerous
fragments of clay bearing grass and wattle impressions. In fact, Meighan and Foote
observed that ‘some of the smaller villages along the shores of Lake Chapala today are
built in much the same way as the structures described above, and prehistoric Tizapan
 104

was very likely quite similar in physical appearance to modern lakeshore villages
using… wattle and daub structures’ (p. 41).
A well-developed ‘mortuary complex’ is reported for Tizapán, consisting of
‘fifty-two human burials [which] were recorded during the 1965-1966 excavations made
at the site. Of these, 49 were encountered in one area, clearly a cemetery, on the north
slope of Mound 1… with the remaining three graves being found beneath house floors
at separated locations’ (p. 42). Of the 48 skeletons found in the cemetery, ‘a majority
were of adults between the ages of 18 and approximately 40 years, with males heavily
predominating’ (p. 42).
Meighan and Foote surmised that ‘from the data presently available, an average
life expectancy of between 25 and 35 years may be postulated for Tizapan adults;
conclusive evidence regarding child and infant mortality rates must necessarily await
future research at the site’ (p. 43). Regarding burial position, we are told that ‘simple
primary interment in individual grave pits was the usual method of disposal at Tizapan
(51 of 52 graves). However, caches of disarticulated human bone were recorded in
association with four cemetery burials’ (p. 43). Also noted is one multiple burial
‘containing three adult skeletons… in the cemetery, the superimposed positions of
articulated bones providing good indication that these individuals had been interred
together… No evidence for the practice of cremation was found’ (p. 43). The bodies
found here ‘were invariably flexed and were usually found cramped in a sitting position
in small, tight-fitting grave pits… Over 85% of the burials recorded at the site were
interred in this manner’ (p. 43), and ‘from the extreme degrees of knee flexure and
constricted positions of arms recorded it is likely that the corpse was often tightly
wrapped in some fashion prior to interment’ 10 (p. 44) (Figure 22).
Meighan and Foote report that ‘altogether, over three quarters of the 52 burials
recorded at the site were accompanied by some form of mortuary furniture. On the basis
of ceramic associations, 30 cemetery interments were clearly attributable to the
Cojumatlán Complex, as first described by Lister (1949)… and another nine in a
separated section of the cemetery area were tentatively assigned to the subsequent
Tizapan phase’ (p. 50).
Possible evidence of violence was recorded in the case of ‘five male skeletons
which were otherwise complete and apparently undisturbed in situ [and] lacked skulls,
10
One burial excavated in Tuxpan, Jalisco, had a skeleton covered with cinnabar, with markings that may have represented the ropes
that tied the corpse in a funerary bundle, in a position similar to the skeletons at Tizapán. This mode of interment was widely-known
elsewhere in Mesoamerica (Corona Olea 1959).
 105

mandibles and upper cervical vertebrae, strongly suggesting that those individuals had
been decapitated prior to interment… The age-range and sex of the decapitated
skeletons, as well as their clearly contemporaneous interment in one section of the
cemetery, suggest conflict of a military nature’ (p. 54). The occurrence of human
interments without skulls also raises the possibility that some form of ritual head-taking
may have been practiced at Tizapán, according to the authors’ opinion.
Skull deformation is also reported in the corpus of skeletons: ‘All restorable
skulls from the cemetery and stratipits exhibited intentional occipito-lambdoid
deformity to a more or less marked degree, and approximately half of these crania
showed additional deformation in the form of frontal flattening’. Quite often, the
investigators found that the ‘occipital and posterior parietal regions of the skull were
flattened, resulting in a pronounced or, in some cases, extreme broadening of the cranial
vault’ (p. 55).
In presenting their ‘comparisons and conclusions’, Meighan and Foote hold that
‘the contributions of the Tizapan collection to our understanding of Mexican
archaeology are several… the archaeological record has been sufficiently amplified to
support the definition of the Lake Chapala basin as a separate archaeological area or
subarea within western Mexico’. Furthermore, the work at Tizapán ‘provides some
critical radiocarbon dates so that the Chapala sequence can be accurately fixed in time
and related chronologically to other Mexican sites’ (p. 156).
Meighan and Foote conclude that, although we do not know how or when the
site of Tizapán was first occupied, the Lake Chapala Basin ‘will certainly prove to have
had human occupancy for a very long time, probably since the big game hunters of the
terminal Pleistocene… By AD 500 or 600, Tizapán, Cojumatlán, and no doubt
numerous other settlements just like them, were located around Lake Chapala… About
AD 1000, the region participated in the expansion from Central Mexico of Toltec
influences’ (p. 156). The mechanics of that process, however, are still unknown. Half a
century ago, Meighan and Foote wondered whether it ‘was accompanied by actual
migrations of people’. They saw this as ‘uncertain, but the cultural effects were strong
and are seen in such things as Tlaloc figures, Mazapan figurines, human-bone rasps,
incensarios, and numerous stylistic details characteristic of Central Mexico’. At the
same time, however, a vigorous ‘West Mexican’ culture was present in the area, ‘and
native elements were not submerged by the influence from Central Mexico’ (p. 156).
 106

One historical question of interest in the earlier study of Cojumatlán (Lister

1949) was the relationship of the archaeology of the Lake Chapala Basin to the problem
of Tarascan expansion in the region. In this regard, Meighan and Foote pondered ‘what
constituted Tarascan archaeological remains and whether Tarascan intrusion could be
recognized archaeologically… However, for what it is worth, the materials from
Tizapan cannot be considered Tarascan, since they appear to predate Tarascan
penetration to this region’ (Meighan and Foote 1968:157).
The historical Tarascans may indeed have relevance to the abandonment of
Tizapán, however: ‘The site appears to have been abandoned in the 13th century and
never reoccupied. Even in the 16th century accounts, this part of the Chapala basin
appears to have been lacking in permanent settlements’. Since the area of Tizapán is on
the border of the Tarascan domain, ‘it may well be that the site was abandoned because
of military pressure… The decapitated individuals among the Tizapan burials may
reflect the warfare leading to abandonment of the site and area. In sum, the site of
Tizapan (and Cojumatlan as well) does not represent a Tarascan group but rather a
people displaced by the Tarascans’ (p. 157).
Meighan and Foote sum up their study by stating that ‘such tentative conclusions
as can be drawn from the data at hand indicate that Tizapan shows more of the
characteristic Central Mexican, Toltec features than the sites further to the west and
north. Such a finding is not surprising… For the future, there are two needs for Chapala
basin research. Most important is to have some idea of the inception of Mesoamerican
civilization in this part of Mexico’ (p. 159). In concluding their essay, they set out a
work agenda for future archaeologists in this part of West Mexico: ‘The… need for the
Chapala basin (and all of West Mexico) is some large-scale excavations and site
reports… the details of historical developments and relationships can come only from
an excavation program designed to provide more complete cross-sections of the cultural
evidence’ (p. 161).
Period IV: 1970-1990
In the previous section we saw that the archaeological studies carried out around Lake
Chapala during Period III consisted mostly of single-site excavations, with little if any
coverage of the general area. To remedy this situation, the northern part of the Lake
Chapala Basin was the object of an extensive archaeological survey (and limited
excavation) conducted by Margaret Bond (1971). Bond’s fieldwork ‘consisted of a
detailed survey of the western half of the north shore and the study of a few scattered
 107

sites in the rest of the basin… Fifty-eight sites were located in the entire basin; surface
collections were made, and 16 test excavations were undertaken at various points’ (p.
1). She reports that ‘material recovered consisted mainly of pottery, but a large number
of obsidian tools were also found. A few copper artifacts came from the excavations,
and figurine fragments were recovered from both excavations and surface collections’
(p. 1).
Bond’s project ‘was planned as a site survey with a few scattered test pits so that
a good-sized area could be covered, a wide range of site types could be located, and a
variety of cultural material could be collected’. Bond hoped that ‘habitations earlier than
those on the south shore [i.e. Cojumatlán] could be located so that information
regarding the Classic and Preclassic periods of the region might be acquired’ (p. 2).
Bond encountered several problems during fieldwork. First, the project was interrupted
by flooding along the lakeshore in September 1967, after a particularly heavy rainy
season. A second major problem was ‘the Lake Chapala pothunters, who were digging
for archaeological pieces to sell… The pothunters naturally resented any digging by
others. For that reason, it was particularly difficult to obtain permission to excavate in
areas east of the town of Chapala’ (pp. 2-3).
In dealing with the architectural remains encountered in the field, Bond states
that ‘early Spanish descriptions mention the white temples and the adobe houses of the
villages along the lake. However, only slight evidence for houses was recovered during
excavations, and only two possibly pre-conquest architectural remains or earthworks
were examined in the north Chapala area’ (p. 182). The few remains of domestic
structures found in the field ‘seem to indicate that houses were of pole or reed and
thatch construction filled with wattle and daub. They might have had stone foundations
in some areas. Part of a row of large stones, which might have been a foundation, were
excavated … [and] a few fragments of mud with grass or reed impressions were found’
(p. 182). Few earthworks of pre-Hispanic origin were found in the survey, for instance
near the town of Ajijic: ‘One is a small mound known locally as “El Cerrito”… It has
been sliced by the Chapala-Jocotepec highway… The east-west axis of the mound is
about 15 m’ (p. 182).
Bond describes her excavations thus: ‘Sixteen test pits were dug along the
northwestern shore of the lake. Sites lie on the steep slopes of the surrounding
mountains and hills, the sloping alluvial fan areas, the uplifted lacustrine sediments, and
the low, flat land next to the lake’ (p. 190). The excavations included test pits, which
 108

‘varied from 1.5 by 1.5 m to 2 m square, [they] were dug in arbitrary levels of 15 cm,
and ranged in depth from 1.75 to 3.10 m’ (p. 190). The ceramic objects (mostly
potsherds) unearthed in the pits and collected from the surface seem to ‘fit into three
cultural phases, apparently dating to the Mesoamerican Classic and Postclassic. Three
phases, Pitallo, Puerta Nueva, and Santa Cruz, have been named differently from those
of the south shore sites, for there seems to be a significant variation in the ceramics
from area to area’ (p. 191).
Bond’s conclusions, based on the systematic analysis of all her findings, are
relevant to our understanding of the cultural dynamics in this part of West Mexico
during pre-Hispanic times, for in this regard she stated that ‘the Chapala Basin should
probably be viewed as an archaeological subarea of Western Mexico; within the basin
itself, however, there appear to be further subdivisions. It seems the biggest differences
among Chapala Basin cultures lie between those settlements on the south-central and
southeastern shores of the lake and those of the northwestern shore’ (p. 212). Bond
states that in spite of these cultural differences, ‘the entire basin shared in the obsidian
tool tradition of single flake blades, scrapers, and several types of projectile points.
Manos and metates are present throughout the basin, as are the molcajetes or grater
bowls of pottery’ (p. 212). Bond’s analysis of the ceramic evidence showed that ‘some
pottery types are present everywhere. For example, the general plain utilitarian ware…
[called] Chapala Brown is very similar in form to some of the plain wares of the
northern sites. Chapala Red Rim is present in the entire basin, but the northern variety
differs… in decoration from that found at Tizapán and Cojumatlán’ (p. 212).
Looking at the entire area of the Lake Chapala Basin, Bond observed that ‘the
lake basin has probably been occupied in some way by [human groups] since the Late
Pleistocene when hunters of big game such as the mammoth moved throughout the area.
By the Late Preclassic or Early Classic… agricultural and fishing settlements likely
were established in some areas about the lake shores. Some of these sites… may have
been occupied almost continuously from that time to the present’ (p. 213). However,
evidence for settlement during the early pre-Hispanic period is limited to ‘the shaft
tomb material found in part of the northwest basin… [which appeared] at least by the
Early Classic’ (p. 213). Occupation during the Classic, Postclassic and early Contact
periods consisted of ‘fishing and farming communities. Compact villages were located
on the lake shore, and cultural material found on the high slopes of the surrounding
mountains indicates that people were also probably living in scattered… homesteads in
 109

the steeper slopes of the mountains, farming that land much in the same way modern
farmers do’ (pp. 213-214). The tool assemblage reported by Bond suggests that many
domestic activities were part of the survival strategies around Lake Chapala. These
included fishing (Figure 23), hunting (Figure 24), and manufacture (Figure 25), as
well as weaving textiles (perhaps including fishnets) (Figure 26).
In summary, Bond surmised that the south shore of the lake, in particular the
southeastern area, ‘received more direct influences from the Central Valley [i.e. Basin
of Mexico] than did the northwestern part of the basin. Perhaps this is because the
former area is closer to trade routes of the Río Lerma’ (p. 215). Bond believed that ‘the
Tarascans never settled in the area nor influenced… the people living in the Chapala
Basin, especially the northern part. No archaeological Tarascan material has been found
in the area; at the time of the first Spanish contacts, the people of the Chapala Basin
supposedly could not communicate with the Tarascan allies of the Spaniards. At least
by the time of the Spanish conquest… people were probably living in villages allied
into small chiefdoms under caciques’ (p. 215).
One event of great consequence in the development of West Mexican
archaeology during Period IV was the appearance of the book The Archaeology of West
Mexico, edited by Betty Bell (1974a), and published by the now defunct West Mexican
Society for Advanced Study (Ajijic, Jalisco). This was the first major synthesis to
appear since the publication of the Handbook of Middle American Indians, which we
mentioned in previous pages. What follows is a summary discussion of several chapters
of Bell’s edited volume, dealing with archaeological research in Jalisco, Colima,
Nayarit and Sinaloa, carried out from the late 1950s to the early 1970s.
In her Foreword to the book Bell (1974b) writes that ‘the majority of these
papers derive, in one way or another, from the Society for American Archaeology
symposia on West Mexico in 1970 and 1971... Even a casual reading of these papers
will show how much our ideas about the culture history of West Mexico have changed
in just the past few years’ (p. ix). Bell also touched upon the significance of this
collection of papers for a new and somewhat radical view of the role of West Mexico in
the context of the Mesoamerican ecumene: ‘In contrast to the old view of West Mexico
as a poor country-cousin with a meagre cultural equipment borrowed belatedly from its
betters elsewhere, what we are now beginning to see is a distinct and distinctive sub-
area of Mesoamerica, with a cultural complexity and time-depth unsuspected until only
a few years ago’ (p. ix). Bell goes on to say that despite the new ideas and
 110

interpretations coming out of the western reaches of the ecumene, ‘the question will no
doubt be raised as to whether West Mexico really is a part of Mesoamerica. At regular
intervals we –meaning West Mexico and its attendants– get thrown out of the club, and
just as regularly we get re-admitted. But if it is not part of Mesoamerica, what is it? Is it
entirely something else? Partly something else? Basically Mesoamerican with some
distinctive trimmings?’ She answers these rhetorical questions thus: ‘Each reader can
decide for himself [or herself] what we think about it, severally and jointly’ (p. ix).
Bell offered some invaluable hindsight about the status of archaeology as a
scientific discipline in West Mexico in the early 1970s, when archaeologists in other
parts of Mesoamerica were exploring radical new approaches to archaeological
methods, theories, and interpretations. In her view, ‘in West Mexico the data are still
being gathered, so often barely snatched from under the noses of pot-hunters that we
can ill afford to be choosy about what we take and what we leave for that more
theoretically sophisticated future’. Bell also thought that ‘at this point we are hardly
even beginning to see what the problems are, and I believe that we are still some
distance away from being able to formulate sweeping hypotheses which have any
contact with reality’ (p. x).
The introduction to The Archaeology of West Mexico was written by Otto
Schondube (1974), who holds that in many books on archaeology or ancient Mexican
art, West Mexico ‘seldom has a distinguished place. Furthermore, in most cases these
books focus on the objects of material culture from this area from an aesthetic
perspective, rather than from a cultural or interpretative angle. Likewise, this
“Mesoamerican” area is usually defined by negative features, that is to say as a marginal
area in which a series of Mesoamerican elements are not present’ (p. 1), or only very
poorly developed. Instead of this, West Mexico should be defined by its own
characteristics, no matter how difficult this may be.
Schondube went on to say that in terms of its archaeological and ethnographic
features, West Mexico presents a huge cultural diversity. This is due to the fact that
there is a great ecological diversity, which results in the existence of a wide variety of
pre-Hispanic items and styles. In Schondube’s view, ‘West Mexico is characterized by
the lack of a unifying cultural tradition… through most of it history’. But he declares
himself an ‘optimist’, who believes that ‘with further studies, more elements will come
to light, which will indicate the existence of one or, more likely, many co-traditions…
The fact that West Mexico has already been subdivided into several regions or subareas,
 111

indicates the existence… of certain cultural traditions showing to some extent their own
patterns of evolution’ (p. 3).
In the following chapter of the book under discussion, Nicholson and Meighan
(1974) present a description of the accomplishments of the UCLA Department of
Anthropology’s program in West Mexican archaeology and ethnohistory (1956-1970).
Nicholson and Meighan mention that several faculty members and postgraduate
students from that department were engaged in archaeological and ethnohistorical
research in Nayarit, Jalisco, Colima and coastal Michoacán from the mid-1950s.
Nicholson and Meighan write that ‘the most fundamental objective of the UCLA West
Mexican program has been simply to contribute to our further knowledge and
understanding of the pre-Hispanic culture history and contact-period cultures of this
major subdivision of Mesoamerica. Special attention has been devoted to the
chronological aspect, utilizing both radiocarbon and obsidian hydration dating
techniques’. The Pacific coastal area, ‘from southern Nayarit to the mouth of the Río
Balsas… received the most attention, but significant projects have also been undertaken
in certain inland areas’ (p. 6). What follows is a brief synthesis of seven archaeological
projects described by Nicholson and Meighan in their chapter.
1. Peñitas, Nayarit (1956): ‘The first UCLA West Mexican archaeological project was
undertaken… under the supervision of George Brainerd. The site selected was Peñitas, a
fairly extensive mound site… about 8 km east of Tuxpan… A number of the mounds
were excavated. Quantities of elaborately decorated pottery were recovered as well as
some metal artifacts, various burials were encountered’ and the excavators recorded
architectural features, such as ‘stone-faced platforms… with stairways’. One of the most
interesting discoveries consisted of three horizontal pit kilns buried under a mass of ash
and pottery fragments over 2 m thick (p. 6). ‘Subsequently, Jacques Bordaz… devoted
his PhD dissertation (1964) to the Peñitas excavations. He concentrated particularly on
the three kilns and associated artifacts, but also included a preliminary typology of the
ceramics… His detailed description and analysis of the three kilns constituted a unique
contribution to Mesoamerican archaeology’ (p. 7).
2. Amapa, Nayarit. During the Peñitas project, ‘a much larger site about 10 km to the
south… near the modern village of Amapa, was briefly reconnoitered. As a logical
follow-up to the Peñitas project, during January-March 1959, Meighan… supervised an
extensive… excavation of Amapa. The site, which contains more than 100 mounds (the
largest over 6 m in height) was carefully mapped’. Meighan excavated ‘29 of the
 112

mounds, some with cut stone stairways… a stone and adobe I-shaped ball court, with
various construction stages, was partially excavated… [and] more than 100 burials were
recorded’ (p. 7). The final book-length report on the Amapa excavations was published
by Meighan and others in 1976 (see discussion below).
3. The interrelationships of New World cultures: Project A, Central Pacific coast of
Mexico (1960-1962). This broad-scope archaeological project ‘stemmed from
discussions stimulated… by the presentation of evidence concerning a series of close
resemblances between certain early culture phases of the coasts of Guatemala and
Ecuador. It was suggested that there may have been important movements along the
Pacific coast of “Nuclear America” on an early “Formative” time horizon, perhaps in
both directions’ (p. 8).
In conjunction with the archaeological surveys and excavations of Project A,
‘Nicholson also undertook during this period a related research project designed to
reconstruct as fully as possible the contact-period native culture of this extensive coastal
zone, and to pinpoint the locations of the native communities’. In order to do this,
Nicholson had to examine ‘all relevant documentary materials, particularly those dating
to the 16th century, and to extract all the available information about the native peoples
encountered by the earliest Spanish expeditions of exploration and conquest’ (p. 12).
4. The Magdalena Lake Basin (Etzatlán) Project (1962-1964). We have already
discussed Long’s research, so I am not going to elaborate on the subject here.
5. Meighan and Foote’s work at Tizapán (1965-1966), discussed in previous pages, also
formed part of UCLA-sponsored archaeological research in the West Mexican region.
6. The Ameca Valley Project (1970) derived ‘from the Project A survey of the Ameca
or Banderas Valley behind Puerto Vallarta, which was initiated during the first field
season of 1960… 23 sites were located in the valley or adjoining territory to the north
and south, most of which were surface-collected and photographed’ (p. 15). In 1970, a
new survey of that valley located and recorded seven sites not previously recorded by
the Project A surveyors.
7. Chronological project (1963-1970). One of the main goals of the UCLA program in
West Mexico was to ‘contribute new data to the archaeology of this region and to refine
its chronological aspect… To date, more than 50 radiocarbon tests have been run on
samples from West Mexican sites… Substantial numbers of obsidian hydration
measurements have also been run on collections from various sites’ (p. 15).
 113

Other important research reported in The Archaeology of West Mexico includes

Stuart Scott’s (1974) work in the Marismas Nacionales of Sinaloa and Nayarit. Scott
and his associates investigated the archaeology and paleoecology of marine marsh
habitats in this area of coastal West Mexico. Scott says in the introduction to his chapter
that the project from which this paper was derived is an investigation of human cultural
and physical adaptation to the coastal environment along the Pacific shore. This work
began in 1968. The author mentions that ‘several major considerations led to the
selection of this area for such a study: first, the general inequality of research interest
between northwestern Mexico and that centered on pre-Columbian civilizations
elsewhere in Mesoamerica. Second, characteristic coastal northwestern Mexican
archaeological excavations have dealt with archaeological sites located at the interior of
the plain… the opportunity to study abundant archaeological remains situated
specifically within a shoreline context might illuminate the role of the Pacific littoral in
major western Mesoamerican developments’ (p. 51). This project turned out to be one
of the most long-lasting and productive in West Mexico, with a major publication of
results published as recently as last year (Foster [editor] 2017). The details and findings
of this investigation will be discussed at length in Chapter III.
Another contribution to the volume under discussion deals with Joseph
Mountjoy’s archaeological work on the coast of Nayarit. Mountjoy (1974) explored the
abundant pre-Hispanic cultural manifestations in the area. He explains the reason he
chose this area as ‘an attempt to investigate possible pre-Spanish commercial activities
in a limited area of the Pacific coast of West Mexico, and evaluate the importance such
commerce might have had for [the] culture history of that area’ (p. 106). One of the
major reasons for selecting the San Blas site for this study was ‘its unique geographical
position. Situated less than 30 km from the mouth of the great Río Santiago, at the
southern tip of the vast Sinaloa-Nayarit coastal plain, San Blas lies at the westernmost
end of a low corridor of low relief which extends from the headwaters of the Río Lerma
in central Mexico, through the Lake Chapala basin’. San Blas is located ‘at the western
end of the most natural overland route of contact between central Mexico and the coast
of northern West Mexico… and various authors have suggested that this route must
have been important in pre-Columbian times as well’ (p. 106).
Mountjoy’s goal was to explore ‘the possibility of there having once been a pre-
Hispanic seaport at this location along the west coast of Mexico. The research resulted
in the definition and detailed description of five distinct major pre-Hispanic… culture
 114

complexes, data regarding their temporal ordering, and affiliations through time… One
of these five culture complexes [is] the San Blas Complex’. Mountjoy saw that the
archaeological data he was able to gather here ‘provides much new information
regarding the ecological relationships involved in early coastal adaptation … plus some
insights relative to the possible origin of the adaptation’ (p. 106).
This research turned out to be a major contribution to our knowledge about
ancient West Mexico, and after this publication Mountjoy continued to work in the
Pacific coast of Nayarit and Jalisco for many years (see, for instance, Mountjoy 2012).
We will discuss Mountjoy’s research on the cultures of the Formative period at length
in Chapter IV.
One of the first systematic archaeological investigations in northern Jalisco was
undertaken by Betty Bell in 1970 (1974c), when she excavated Cerro Encantado
(enchanted hill), an archaeological site ‘located in the northeastern area of Jalisco
known as Los Altos’ (the highlands). ‘Most of Los Altos consists of a vast dissected
plateau with thin soil, sparse vegetation, and marked extremes in temperature… Apart
from the one river system which drains this large area, there are few permanent streams
in the many barrancas… the soil is arid and bleached, and the scanty vegetation consists
mainly of the ubiquitous mesquite and huisache of the dry lands of Mexico’ (p. 147).
Bell writes that ‘the aboriginal population of the [study] area in the late
Postclassic was almost certainly Cazcan in culture, but little is known about the time-
depth of that culture, because it was one of the many casualties of the Conquest’. In the
early 16th century ‘the Cazcanes appear to have been established in what is now
southern Zacatecas and… part of northeastern Jalisco… in 1540 [the Indians] arose
against the Spaniards in the Mixtón War, setting off a native uprising which quickly
spread to other parts of West Mexico and which cost the Spaniards almost two years of
strenuous effort to quell’. When the conflict was over, the Spaniards ‘rounded up large
numbers of Cazcanes and forcibly re-settled them in small groups in many other parts of
West Mexico, thereby destroying most of their culture’ (p. 148).
The site excavated by Bell lies on a geological feature locally known as El Cerro
Encantado, though technically-speaking it is not a hill but, rather, ‘a dissected plateau…
crisscrossed by many… large barrancas that cut into smaller plateaus’ (p. 149). The
ancient settlement was built on land which is ‘dry and rocky and dotted with mesquite,
and the river-terraces were very likely used as agricultural land —then as now… This
 115

small area is obviously the source of the famous, so-called Zacatecas-style horned
figures so popular with collectors of pre-Columbian art’ (p. 150).
Bell sums up her report by stating that El Cerro Encantado ‘was an interesting
and rewarding site, not only in itself but also in regard to its place in the picture of over-
all West Mexican culture history… no other site had ever been excavated in that area,
and unfortunately none has been excavated since then. El Cerro Encantado produced the
first of the famous West Mexican large figurines ever to come from a controlled
excavation’ (Figure 27). Bell thought that ‘there can be little doubt that the Late Pre-
Classic people of the area… were in contact with those of the shaft-tomb area some
distance to the west and that the contact was direct, because the contents of the
distinctive assemblage of burial offerings are identical in both areas’. Bell saw as likely
‘that both areas shared to some extent in the ideology which underlay the shaft-tomb
complex’ (p. 161). 11
Bell ends her report with the following observations: ‘I believe that El Cerro
Encantado probably had a fairly short life-span, and –putting together various bits of
evidence and admittedly some conjecture– that it was during the first few centuries’ of
the Christian era. ‘What happened after that, I do not know. Like so much of West
Mexico, there is no information for most of the Classic period… El Cerro Encantado is
West Mexican and also a little more, and it seems to have stood at a crossroads where
several streams of Mesoamerican culture mingled for perhaps two thousand years’ (p.
164).
In the same general area –the Jalisco highlands– and time period as Bell’s work
discussed above, Glyn Williams (1974) carried out a study of the Upper Río Verde
drainage area. The aim of Williams’ study was to analyze the archaeological evidence
for ‘external contacts for one corner of West Mexico’. Williams points out that ‘since
the evidence drawn upon consists of unexcavated materials which exist in large local,
private collections or which were encountered in the possession of local peasant farmers
who had found them in the process of their agricultural work, the seriation is by
necessity tentative’. Most of the material analyzed in this study consisted of ‘figurines
which… are excellent time markers, despite the fact that… the emphasis placed upon
architecture and ceramics has relegated the use of figurines to a secondary role’ (p. 22).

11
The cultural relationship between this general region of northwest Mexico and the shaft-tomb tradition has been explored by
Teresa Cabrero (1989).
 116

The process employed by Williams involved ‘grouping the figurines into types
and subtypes on the basis of shape, physical features, decoration, material, method of
composition, and proportion… Once the types have been determined they will be
related to figurines from other areas on the basis of the same aspects involved in the
initial typing’ (p. 23). The conclusions reached by this analysis would be ‘validated by
ceramic and other material drawn from local private collections’, although the author
expresses a caveat: ‘There is of course no substitute for controlled excavations with
acceptable concrete dating, and in presenting the following ideas it is… not necessary to
emphasize their tentativeness’. In studies of this nature, ‘one can seldom “prove”
anything, but one may hope to indicate new approaches to a problem and new channels
through which still further research may be pursued’ (p. 23).
The area explored by Williams is located along the borders of the present-day
states of Zacatecas and Jalisco. The Rio Verde’s headwaters are in an area of
contrasting ecological niches, including elevated forested areas (at an altitude of 2,500
m) and alluvial plains (1,850 m). Williams says that ‘it is conceivable that this local
diversity could have served to provide a variety of adaptive economic postures, varying
from hunting to agriculture. At present the river is dry during four months of the year,
the growing season coinciding with the onset of rains during June to January’ (p. 25).
However, the area has a high water table, as well as perennial springs, which facilitates
the use of irrigation in some places. Thirteen archaeological sites were detected in this
area, each one of different size and complexity. Williams found that ‘all the sites lie
near the river and one suspects that the settlement pattern conforms to an as yet
unidentified spatial hierarchy’ (p. 25).
The figurines discussed in this study can be categorized into five types: Type I is
‘characterized by a variety of features typical of Central Mexican Late Preclassic
figurines’ (p. 25) (Figure 28). Type II figurines are represented by just three specimens,
all of them incomplete fragments (Figure 29). ‘They are flat and have been pressure
molded. It is quite possible that they were part of effigy vessels’ (p. 28). Type III
figurines (Figure 30) are ‘very common in the area, and yet very little is known about
some parts of the figurine. It differs from types I and II in having a gloss finish and
having been fired black’ (p. 29). Another type of figurine discussed here is Type IV
(Figure 31), which ‘differs from the other three types…’ although ‘the body
ornamentation… suggests an evolution of Type IV from Type I’. Type IV includes ‘an
interesting group of miniatures. The smallest figurines measure about 2 cm in height
 117

and may be buff or black with a gloss finish … They may also be decorated with paint’
(p. 33). The last figurine type reported by Williams is Type K (Figure 32), ‘which are
generally ascribed to the Middle or Late Formative’ (p. 36).
One of the local sites is called Tequesquite. Williams considered that, since the
site had been ‘so extensively looted, it is inevitable that most of our knowledge of the
area derives from this site. However, local farmers in the area tend to put aside surface
material encountered during their work… In addition, surface collections of sherds do
exist in local private collections’ (p. 38).
In the conclusions to her paper, Williams sums up by stating that ‘whatever
conclusions are derived must by necessity be tentative in nature, and in reality will serve
as no more than a basis for a working hypothesis to be tested in the field with…
controlled excavations’. Williams held that ‘in an area where considerable material is
available for study… such a preliminary theoretical consideration should serve as an
invaluable basis for deriving hypotheses’. The figurines reported ‘bear a substantial
similarity to Central Mexican forms of the terminal Preclassic, and the limited number
of Teotihuacan figurines lends further credence to this southern influence. This is
substantiated by evidence of what may be a Fire God cult and also by the existence of
paint cloisonné and stucco pottery, although most of the pottery appears to relate to
West Mexico’ (p. 43).
A Mesoamerican affiliation or influence can be seen in such motifs as Tlaloc-
like stone carvings (Figure 33), and also in ‘the nature and extent of some of the sites…
[that] reveal abundant evidence of involved ceremonial complexes which more than
likely include a ball court’ (p. 44). Also evident is ‘a northern influence… Certainly
there is evidence of a close relationship between Tequesquite [a major site in the region]
and the Zacatecas-Durango area, and further ties with Culiacán [Sinaloa] and even the
[US] Southwest are also suggested’ (p. 45).
Moving to the west of the area discussed above, we see that Meighan (1976)
conducted excavations at the site of Amapa, located near the Pacific coast of Nayarit.
Meighan says that the collection from Amapa is an important one, as it was the largest
controlled excavation along the West Mexican coast at the time of publication. The
Amapa materials provided ‘not only a good chronology of the culture change in this
part of Mexico, but a large and varied collection of great comparative value’ (p. 1).
Amapa began as a small settlement. During the Gavilan and Amapa phases (ca.
496 BC-AD 695) there is no evidence of architecture except for fragments of clay
 118

showing stick impressions used in wattle-and-daub structures. There is no clear

evidence for constructed mounds in the early phases, and Meighan assumed that early
Amapa was a small village on the riverbank.
For Cerritos (ca. AD 600-1000) and later ceramic phases (ca. AD 1000-1400?),
‘there is abundant evidence of architecture and construction. The basic architectural
form was a constructed earth mound bearing wattle-and-daub structures on its summit.
This type of construction was used both for domestic architecture and for public
buildings and temples, although the mounds for the public buildings are larger than the
domestic mounds [and] usually higher’ (p. 38).
The mounds at Amapa were usually ‘arranged around plazas or open spaces,
with the mounds oriented to the cardinal directions in the way… of Mesoamerican sites.
Outlying residential areas have numerous small mounds which are not patterned and
include mounds of refuse scattered among small constructed mounds’ (p. 38).
At Amapa, ‘river cobbles as well as other stone had to be brought from a
distance, and for this reason cobble facing was very little used… There was a limited
use of construction stone in the form of cut white slabs of solidified volcanic ash
brought in from the mountains… the closest source of construction stone… [was] about
30 km to the northeast of the site’ (p. 39).
Meighan found that ‘the quarrying, preparation, and transport of stone was a big
enough task to limit wide use of stone in Amapa construction. No mound… was found
to be faced with cut stone, and this material was used exclusively for stairways and
balustrades, the lower part of the walls of the ball court playing area, and the lining of
drains. Buildings at Amapa were primarily… wattle-and-daub’ (p. 41).
According to Meighan, ‘the information gained from the Amapa excavations
provides an opportunity… for developing a fuller and somewhat revised interpretation
for the general prehistory of Western Mexico’. The Amapa study helped fill in some
large gaps in our knowledge of West Mexican culture history. First, for some years
there had been difficulty in understanding the Mixteca-Puebla elements already
mentioned for Guasave, Sinaloa, and other areas of the northwestern frontier. Meighan
says that ‘resemblances to Central Mexico were so strong that Ekholm (1942) could
explain them only as the result of a migration of peoples… over some 800 miles of
distance… Amapa, being in the middle of this great distance, makes Guasave look less
like an isolated outpost of Mesoamerican culture’ and more like an integral, if
somewhat marginal, part of the Mesoamerican ecumene. In fact Amapa was ‘part of the
 119

general and widespread expansion of Postclassic civilization in Mesoamerica’ (p. 157).

Furthermore, ‘the location of Amapa and many other large sites on or near the seacoast’
suggested to Meighan the ‘possibility of external connections through travel along the
coast… North-south contacts along the coast [probably] were as important, if not more
important, that coast-interior contacts’ (p. 158).
During ‘Cerritos and later ceramic phases, trade with the surrounding area
continued… More important, however, is the indication of long-distance trade… [and
the] importation of foreign pottery… The connections in the late period are primarily
with the centers of Mesoamerica culture to the south… Central Mexico or the southern
coast of Mexico in the direction of Oaxaca’. Meighan saw that ‘The shift in Amapa’s
external orientations toward the south is also abundantly shown in ceramic style and
many artifact types’ (p. 158).
Meighan sums up his discussion by stating that ‘in Amapa… the periods ca.
600-700 and 900-1200 were times of close affiliation to… the great centers of Central
Mexico. The rest of the time West Mexico… was generating its own cultural and
population growth… It must be noted that West Mexico was not merely a passive
recipient of the Central Mexican pattern’. In this regard, it should be noted that ‘West
Mexico generated its own innovations, some of which were later exported to… Central
Mexico… for example metallurgy was developed and in common use at Amapa at a
time when metal objects are rare or absent in Central Mexico’ (p. 161).
As we have seen in previous pages, up until the late 1970s few if any shaft
tombs had been found in pristine condition in West Mexico, and fewer still had been
excavated by archaeologists. Kelly’s report (1978) on her excavation at El Manchón,
Colima, 12 where she studied seven unlooted shaft tombs, states that they are ‘of the
form typical of central Colima… The roughly cylindrical shaft is a meter or less in
diameter and one or two meters deep. At lower level, to one side of its base, a chamber
has been chiseled in the hard subsoil… Ordinarily, a large stone slab… covers the
opening from shaft to chamber. Six or seven Manchón tombs had such a stone’. These
tombs were ‘quite closely spaced in an irregularly shaped area… [the] distribution
suggests advance planning and contemporaneous construction of the tombs’ (p. 1).
Kelly had this to say about the tomb’s chronological placement: ‘The three phases under
consideration in the present paper fall roughly within the broad Mesoamerican scheme

12
The actual excavation took place in 1940, but the results of the analysis were not published until this report appeared in 1978.
 120

as follows: Ortices, late Preclassic; Comala, early Classic; Colima, middle Classic’
(Kelly 1978: Footnote 1).
Kelly found that the El Manchón tombs had apparently been re-used in ancient
times. She says that ‘each of the tombs… contained sherds of the Ortices phase, and
both construction and initial utilization safely can be attributed to it. The quantity of
Ortices fragments in several chambers… rather suggests successive use during that
phase… Later… there was a half-hearted clearing of the Ortices furniture to make way
for Comala-phase burials’. In fact, ‘all tombs except number 7 contained offerings and
presumably burials of Comala affiliation. Skeletal material was so deteriorated that little
can be said of it’ (p. 3).
In her discussion of the chronological implications of this archaeological
funerary assemblage, Kelly says that ‘distribution of ceramic material from the seven
tombs at El Manchón indicates: (1) sequential use of the chambers, with (2)
construction and initial use during the Ortices phase, (3) followed by clearing and
subsequent installation of Comala-phase interments. (4) The intrusive and unplaced
Manchón wares from one tomb should be coeval with Ortices, or later; or contemporary
with Comala, or earlier… they may correspond to a time level early in the Comala
phase’ (p. 6).
Kelly spent most of her professional life studying pre-Hispanic ceramics from
West Mexico, at a time when archaeologists in this part of Mesoamerica were little
interested in other aspects of culture, such as settlement patterns, ecological adaptations,
or cultural processes in general. By the time of publication of the El Manchón research
(1978), Kelly (1970, 1974) had already described a pottery assemblage that she thought
was much earlier than anything else so far discussed in West Mexico (Kelly 1980). In
her original report, she (1970) recounts how ‘in the spring of 1970, in the most recent
field season in Colima, it was possible to identify a ceramic complex which is evidently
related to the Preclassic from other parts of Mexico and America… This Preclassic
phase in Colima… has been called Capacha, it is known solely by the offerings found in
some simple burials, grouped in small cemeteries. Until now there is no indication of an
association with shaft tombs, nor have we found traces of dwellings, or rubbish’ (pp.
26-27). According to Kelly, ‘the most characteristic vessel of this phase is an open-
mouthed pot, whose body has a waist… [it] usually has a peculiar decoration consisting
in a depression… with two incised lines… and… triangular fields generally filled by
 121

punches… Both the shape of the vessel and its decorative cluster are unmistakable.
Román Piña Chan… shows an example from Tlatilco’ (p. 27).
Kelly (1980) claimed a rather early date for the Capacha complex: 1450 BC. In
fact this date was earlier than any other excavated assemblage in West Mexico at the
time. 13 However, this early date has been disputed by several authors since Kelly’s
original publication. Greengo and Meighan (1976: 15), for example, hold that ‘Capacha
materials are insecurely dated… The radiocarbon evidence consists of a single date of
somewhat uncertain association… almost certainly the… date… is far too early’. In a
recent review of the West Mexican Formative, Mountjoy (2015: 4) points out that
‘Kelly had one radiocarbon date showing a great antiquity for Capacha, but not even she
trusted in that date… In the Mascota Valley of Jalisco there are nine radiocarbon dates
from three graveyards with Capacha-type material, showing a range from 1000 to 700
BC… There are six radiocarbon dates linked to… central Colima… between 1000 and
800 BC’. Although it seems that Kelly’s original date should be replaced by Mountjoy’s
more conservative assessment (ca. 1000-800 BC), it would still mean that Capacha is
one of the earliest major ceramic traditions for West Mexico.
According to Greengo and Meighan (1976:15), Capacha is doubly important for
the archaeology of West Mexico, since it contains the earliest ceramic horizon for the
Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area, and includes among its characteristic pottery types such
vessel forms as the ‘stirrup-spout’, which suggests affinities with similar items found in
archaeological contexts pertaining to the Formative period in both Mexico and the
Andean region. Capacha pottery has been found over a relatively wide area that
includes, aside from Colima, the states of Jalisco, Nayarit, Sinaloa, Michoacán and
Guerrero (Kelly 1980:22).
According to Kelly (1980:29), the similarities between Capacha and other
ceramic styles are slight, although, as mentioned above, there are evident ties with El
Opeño, as well as with the still poorly-defined Tlatilco style. Aside from these two
instances, there is little basis for comparing Capacha with other, strictly Mesoamerican
ceramic assemblages that may pertain, more or less, to the same time frame. The
Capacha pottery style, therefore, is not wholly Mesoamerican, but neither can it be
defined as South American, although it has some features that suggest links with
northwestern South America. Capacha’s peculiar pots with triple stirrup spouts are

13
A similar date had been proposed for El Opeño, Michoacán, at around the same time of Kelly’s publication of the Capacha
materials (see discussion in Chapter IV).
 122

unique, and certain missing elements may also be of importance, though hard to
explain, such as the scarcity of bottles with a single thin neck and the absence of shell
and rocker stamping. Finally, Capacha figurines are totally unlike South American
styles that may be contemporaneous (Kelly 1980:37).
We approach the end of Period IV of archaeological research in West Mexico
with an important book called The Archaeology of West and Northwest Mesoamerica,
edited by Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand. In the introduction to this volume,
Weigand and Foster (1985) discuss the most serious challenges faced by West Mexican
archaeologists, and set the agenda for future research in this vast area of Mesoamerica.
Weigand and Foster point out that West Mexico’s important role as an area of ‘ancient
civilization is just now becoming apparent to Americanists at large. This area has
traditionally been approached as a zone… of simple… cultures which, while capable of
dynamic art styles, had never been capable of achieving civilization until its arrival from
Central Mexico’ (p.1). They added that the role of West Mexico ‘as a zone through
which long-distance trade could travel has always been appreciated… but the area’s
possible role as a hearth… of agriculture and… sedentary lifestyles has never been
sufficiently studied’ (p. 1).
Weigand and Foster further point out that West Mexico was an area with
abundant rare resources, and that the ‘demands made upon those resources by the
metropolis of Central Mexico could have had prolonged political and economic
consequences along these frontiers’ (pp. 1-2). In many archaeological studies, the
societies of West Mexico, for instance the inhabitants of ‘the highland-lake districts…
and adjacent areas… were characterized by strong Formative developments that seemed
quite independent of Olmec influence… they were in a position to affect the Formative
cultures of Central Mexico for brief periods’. In Weigand and Foster’s view, ‘Classic
period civilization in certain parts of Western Mexico assumed an exotic but complex
course of development quite of its own. These cultures appear to be basically free of
Teotihuacan influences. Their development… shows that the Mesoamerican civilization
had multiple cultural hearths, all of which flowered into distinctive regional styles’ (p.
2). Clearly, West Mexico became one of these well-developed hearths, particularly
during the Formative and Classic periods.
During the Postclassic period, in particular around the 14th century AD, we see
in parts of West Mexico a cultural resurgence, culminating with the Tarascan state in
Michoacán and with many independent polities in Colima, Nayarit, and Jalisco.
 123

Weigand and Foster argue that ‘the culture history of West Mexico [includes] an
independent Formative hearth; independent formation of a Classic civilization with
complex characteristics… and a resurgence of Western cultural and political systems in
the Late Postclassic’ (p. 3). One should bear in mind that before this discussion, such
words as ‘Classic’, ‘civilization’ and ‘complex’ were seldom used to describe the
cultures in the westernmost reaches of Mesoamerica, beyond the area under the aegis of
the Tarascan Empire.
As we have seen through this section, in the history of West Mexican
archaeological research, ‘early work… stressed selective cultural traits, largely ceramic
motifs and chronologies. While this is basic, it is not necessarily the best way to view
the character of a regional civilization and its cultural neighbors. Large-scale survey…
is badly needed. The lack of settlement-pattern data… for the entire region hampers our
efforts at sociological interpretation’ (pp. 4-5).
Weigand and Foster conclude their argument by stating that ‘archaeologists
working in Central Mesoamerica have traditionally paid either no attention to the West
and Northwest, or treated them as poor stepchildren. The result has been that an
enormous area of elaborate cultural development has been relegated to unimportance’.
Finally, they express the hope that ‘the contributions in this book will… help balance
these long-standing conceptual difficulties in dealing with West and Northwest
Mesoamerica’ (p. 5).
At least one of the contributions to the book The Archaeology of West and
Northwest Mesoamerica –the one written by Weigand– fulfils the goals expressed in the
introduction, as cited above. Here, Weigand (1985) explains that ‘the highland lake
district of… Jalisco has been a focal point for more speculation about its archaeology
than archaeology per se. What is known comes largely from the realm of art history and
artifact-oriented archaeology… It is difficult at times to bridge the gap between the field
studies and the museum-based artifact characterizations… This study will attempt such
a bridge by offering a sociological-oriented interpretation of the… archaeological
materials’ (p. 47). Weigand offers a critique of the ‘controlling assumptions about
Western Mesoamerica’s pre-conquest archaeology’, which he terms the ‘simplicity
complex’ and describes as relying on several assumptions: (1) that ancient West Mexico
was dominated by a Tarascan complex; (2) that cultural traits of the early West-
Mexican cultures always originated in Central Mexico; and (3) that much of West
Mexico was involved in a so-called ‘Chimalhuacan confederation’ of native polities in
 124

Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit. Weigand states that ‘these assumptions were set aside as
field and archival data contradicted them’ (p. 48). In this contribution, he states that ‘my
purpose is to advance the idea that an anthropological context for data can offer us the
potential for sociological interpretations that go beyond the obsession with ‘funerary
cults’… and that this potential is… furthered by systematized ecological, landscape, and
settlement survey’. Weigand returns to the theme of the simplicity complex, which he
defines in terms of three major (erroneous) notions: (1) West Mexico was never
civilized in its own right, until the late arrival of Classic and Postclassic sociocultural
entities from Central Mexico. (2) Because no complex or urbanized societies existed in
the west (outside of the Tarascan area) at the moment of Spanish contact, none could
have existed before. (3) West Mexico had no monumental architecture or other complex
cultural traits of a non-funeral nature, comparable to those of ‘nuclear’ Mesoamerica
(pp. 48-50).
Weigand set out to debunk the ‘simplicity complex’ by means of a research
strategy that consisted of field work with an anthropological and ecological orientation.
His emphasis on architecture was based on the following assumption: ‘When
architectural information is added to the burial data, the general picture of area-wide
differential development… is strengthened’ in the case of the Jalisco lake district.
‘Within this district, a unique… architectural form was innovated… [This form] is
defined as having five basic architectural elements’ (p. 66). The architectural
components were defined by Weigand thus: (1) A central circular, terraced altar or
‘pyramid’ which often has a small, skirting banquette; (2) an elevated circular patio
around the altar; (3) a round platform or banquette surrounding the circular patio; (4)
square or rectangular platforms atop the circular banquette; and (5) crypt-like burial
chambers beneath the platforms or pyramids, under the patio fill, or in the central
pyramid.
After reviewing the surface distribution and arrangements of the complex
architectural manifestations outlined above, Weigand ponders an important question
about this ancient cultural tradition: ‘Did the society(s) in the… lake district…
participate in urbanization? This clear criterion for civilization is evident in most other
[Mesoamerican] hearths during the Classic period’ (p. 88). In order to answer this
question, Weigand points out that there are a few generally agreed upon criteria for a
definition of urbanism: (1) indications of social stratification; (2) presence of a
managerial elite; (3) craft specialization; (4) a demographic critical mass to sustain the
 125

economic-political regime; and (5) control over strategic resources sufficient to support
the regime.
Of all the criteria mentioned above, Weigand highlights the role of craft
specialization and elaborates on the ‘evidences for an intricate pattern of
specialization… best observed with obsidian, especially at the Teuchitlán-El Refugio
habitation zone… Obsidian was extracted and shaped… and then transported to the…
workshop… The… cores here were processed… leaving behind a massive layer of…
flakes… [which] number in the millions’ (pp. 88-89).
Weigand’s conclusions are quite remarkable for he suggests that by adding the
concept of craft specialization ‘to the settlement data… we are examining the forces of
ancient urbanization at work. Whether or not Teuchitlán can be defined as a true city
depends mostly upon one’s theoretical perspectives. By Teotihuacan standards… the
obvious lack of dense nucleation mitigates against such an assignation. A closer
analogue can be found in comparison to Classic Maya sites’ (p. 89). This point had been
made earlier by Meighan (1976a), regarding the ancient sprawling settlement of Amapa,
Nayarit. Weigand further suggests that ‘many of the objective criteria for ancient
urbanism are met’ at Teuchitlán and adjoining areas of the Jalisco lake district. Weigand
sums up his ideas with the following statement: ‘Whether or not a true city, Teuchitlán
clearly was experiencing the processes of urbanization… during the period AD 400-
700’ (p. 89). While many of Weigand’s ideas are still topics of debate among
archaeologists, one thing is certain: Weigand left an indelible mark in the field of West
Mexican archaeology and Mesoamerican anthropology in general.

Final Remarks
As we have seen in these pages, West Mexico as a culture area has not received the
same amount of interest and attention from archaeologists as the rest of Mesoamerica.
This fact has been pointed out by many authors, among them Angeles Olay (2001a),
who claims that the western area of Mesoamerica was not an outstanding object of
interest for archaeologists until recent times. Olay thinks this may be because of a
perception of a territory with a mestizo (i.e. mixed race) heritage, in which the
indigenous identity had been erased by a ‘particularly brutal process of conquest and
colonization’ by the Spanish conquerors (p. 197). Undoubtedly Olay is right, but her
observations are only a partial explanation for the widespread perception of West
Mexico as a backward cultural area compared to central and southern Mesoamerica.
 126

Another factor that should be taken into account is the ideological construction in
Mexico of a ‘glorious Indian past’ in which the Aztecs and their ancestors always held
center stage, to the detriment of other Mesoamerican areas, such as the west.
In Mexico, the so-called ‘Mexican official archaeology’ has been devoted
largely to the reconstruction of archaeological sites to promote tourism and nationalism,
forgetting almost entirely about archaeology’s anthropological perspectives. In Latin
America, the cases of Mexico and Peru are usually mentioned as examples of how
archaeological symbols and pre-Hispanic elements have been used to promote an almost
mystical sense around the history of each nation-state. In this way, the members of
official Mexican archaeology –in other words the archaeological establishment– have
been strongly supported by a state that tries to legitimize its claim to political power and
national pride (Benavides 2001: 352; see also Gándara 1992). This situation became
evident in the Templo Mayor project in Mexico City (begun in 1978), where
archaeologists were subordinated (or co-opted) by the ideology of the all-powerful
Mexican state (Vázquez 1996). It is quite obvious that this situation is not the best
scenario for a scientific archaeology with anthropological goals.
The situation outlined above was generated in the context of a hegemonic
structure that uses the pre-Hispanic past as an element of legitimization of political
power, and as an instrument for the construction of an ‘official national history’ in
which the new leaders attempt to present themselves as the natural heirs of the group
and territory under their control (Benavides 2004). The problem of archaeology as an
activity immersed in a political world has been approached by Leone et al. (1987), who
think that archaeological practice is affected by political, economic and social decisions.
According to these authors, ideology is a basic concept for analyzing the relationship
between the knowledge of the past and the sociopolitical context in which
archaeologists live and work. In this sense, ideology refers to that which is perceived as
part of daily life, and is accepted as an inevitable fact (Leone et al. 1987).
In the book History of Archaeological Thought, Bruce Trigger (2006) points out
that from the late 19th century onwards archaeology followed a culture-historical
approach, which was ‘a response to growing awareness of geographic variability in the
archaeological record at a time when cultural evolutionism was being challenged… by
declining faith in the benefits of technological progress’ (p. 211). In his discussion of
the concept of culture, Trigger says that ‘in the late 19th century a growing interest in
ethnicity encouraged increasing use of the concept of the archaeological culture.
 127

Archaeologists… began to draw an explicit parallel between the numerous

geographically restricted remains… and ethnographic cultures’ (p. 232). The definition
as ‘cultures’ or ‘civilizations’ of ‘geographically and temporally restricted assemblages
of formally similar prehistoric archaeological material… and identifying them as the
remains of ethnic groups seem to have occurred independently to a number of
archaeologists’ (p. 233). The viewpoint mentioned by Trigger is all too apparent in the
works of Lumholtz, Diguet, León, Breton and other scholars pertaining to the initial
period of archaeological research in West Mexico.
By the mid-20th century, American archaeology was experiencing radical
changes. According to Trigger, ‘since the 1950s archaeology… has shifted from a
seemingly complacent culture-historical orthodoxy to ambitious theoretical innovations.
These innovations have led to growing disagreements about the goals of the
discipline… Increasing numbers of archaeologists… have abandoned positivist
certainty and begun to entertain doubts about the objectivity of their research’.
Archaeologists perceive ‘social factors as determining not only the questions they ask
but also the answers they judge to be convincing’ (p. 1).
When it comes to archaeological interpretation, Trigger states that
‘archaeologists debate whether their discipline… can or should be scientific’.
Archaeologists disagree ‘about what constitutes science and scientific behavior…
modern science… [is] a method of knowing rather than a body of knowledge… relying
on… observation, classification, comparison, and where possible experimentation’ (p.
26). Trigger argues that in this view of archaeological research, ‘nothing is significant
by itself but only in relation to hypotheses; hence only theories can explain
phenomena… Scientists must search for order… in the form of systemic properties that
facilitate the construction of explanations’. The archaeologist’s goal is ‘to discover
mechanisms that account for how things work and have come to be as they find them…
Scientists… acknowledge that they are unable to transcend the limitations of their data
and what they are capable of perceiving at any particular point in time’. Therefore,
scientists (including archaeologists) should expect that ‘in due course every scientific
theory will be altered and probably become outmoded’ (p. 27).
Trigger’s comments about the early development of a functional-processual
archaeology (during the 1960s and 1970s) are relevant to the history of archaeological
research in West Mexico: ‘As the inadequacies of culture-historical archaeology for
understanding how prehistoric cultures operated and changed became obvious…
 128

archaeologists… adopted new approaches to the study of prehistory that were based on
systematic anthropological and sociological investigations of human behavior’ (p. 314).
Whereas studies following a culture-historical approach ‘explained changes from the
outside by attributing them to diffusion and migration, functional and processual studies
[tried] to understand social and cultural systems from the inside by determining how
different parts of these systems are interrelated and how these parts interact with one
another’ (p. 314).
Meighan made some observations about archaeological work in Nayarit during
the mid-20th century that are helpful for understanding the viewpoint that prevailed
during this era: ‘From the excavation [and] description… one can obtain many clues to
the details of daily life… It is, however, a descriptive study, one which presumes little
in the way of “explanation” but rather lays the groundwork for fuller and more
developed historical reconstruction… The recovery of the archaeological record… is the
first step toward developing a page of history’ (Meighan 1976a: 1).
In a synthesis of archaeological work in West Mexico around the last decade of
the 20th century, Pollard (1997) said that ‘the last decade has seen the greatest increase
in archaeological research in western Mexico since the 1940s. Unlike previously
heralded renewals, this one is accompanied by a widespread skepticism of the dominant
culture-historical paradigm linking West Mexico to the rest of Mesoamerica, to the
American Southwest, and to South America’ (p. 345). In Pollard’s view, archaeological
research in West Mexico during the 1980s and 1990s offered ‘substantive new data and
interpretations bearing on issues such as the definition of Mesoamerica, the role of
South American long-distance contacts, the human ecology of highland lakes… and the
nature [and] role of pre-Hispanic elite exchanges, in addition to the basic documentation
of the archaeological record’ (p. 345).
Pollard holds that in pre-Hispanic West Mexico ‘there is no evidence of
linguistic, political, economic, social, or ecological unity at any time in the past,
boundaries are completely arbitrary, [and] there is no West Mexican “Great Tradition”;
that is, no set of traits is found throughout the region that distinguishes it from the rest
of Mesoamerica at any point in time’. Finally, Pollard makes an observation that should
be obvious after reading this chapter: ‘This region is defined by the absence of certain
traits at specific points in time… it has appeared to be more a residual category of
Mesoamerica than a meaningful unit’ (p. 348). This cultural heterogeneity over long
periods of time in West Mexico is seen in Table 4.
 129

Table 4. Chronological Chart of West Mexican Cultural Development.

MICHOACÁN1 JALISCO2 COLIMA3 NAYARIT4 SINALOA5

Phase Dates Phase Dates Phase Dates Phase Dates Phase Dates
Taríacuri AD 1350- Atemajac AD Periquillo AD Santiago AD Late AD
1525 II 1400- 1200- 1400- Culiacán 1400-
1600 1500 1530 1530
Late AD Atemajac I AD 900- El AD 800- Ixcuintla AD Middle AD
Urichu 1000/1100- 1400 Chanal 1200 1250- Culiacán 1250-
1350 1400 1400
Early AD El Grillo AD Armería AD 600- Cerritos AD 900- Early AD
Urichu 900/1000- 450/500- 800 1050 Culiacán/ 1100-
1100 900 El Taste 1250
Lupe-La AD Tequila IV AD 200- Colima AD 350- Tuxpan AD 700- Acaponeta AD 900-
Joya 600/700- 450/500 600 900 1050
900
Jarácuaro AD 500- Tequila III 100 BC- Comala AD 0- Amapa AD 500- Lolandis AD 750-
600/700 AD 200 350 700 900
Loma Alta AD 350- Tequila II 300-100 Ortices 600-100 Gavilán AD 200- Baluarte AD 500-
3 500 BC BC 500 700
Loma Alta 50 BC-AD Tequila I ca. 1000- Tierra del AD 300-
2 350 300 BC Padre 500
Loma Alta 1 BC-
1 AD 100

Chupícuaro 500-100 Estero 200 BC-

BC AD 700
Pantano 1200-
700 BC
El Opeño 1200-? BC Magdalena/ ca. 1500- Capacha 1200-?
El Opeño 1000 BC BC
Cueva Los 5200-2000 Costanero 3000
Portales BC BC- AD
300
Cueva de 12500-
Los 11500 BP
Hacheros

1. Pollard (2005: Table 1); Hernández (2016: Table 1); Darras and Faugère (2005); and, Oliveros and de los Ríos (1993:46);
Faugère (2006); Punzo and Martínez (2018).
2. Beekman (2010: Table 1); Mountjoy (2012).
3. Beekman (2010: Table 1).
4. Scott and Foster (2000: Figure 8.3); Foster and Scott (2017).
5. Scott and Foster (2000: Figure 8.3).

We have seen in this chapter how our knowledge of an ‘archaeological tradition’

developed in the western reaches of the Mesoamerican ecumene during the last century
of research. Following a global perspective, Paul Bahn (1996) says that ‘archaeology’s
 130

view of the past [is] constantly changing as new evidence arises or as old evidence is
reinterpreted, and always closely interwoven with the personalities and interactions of
the archaeologists themselves… the account of the past they put together is inevitably
fictional’ (p. ix). Bahn thinks that ‘most archaeologists strive to be objective about the
past… but the best that can be achieved without a time machine is an accepted fiction…
We can never know what happened in the past—even for historical periods the written
sources are always subjective’ (p. ix). Despite this somewhat pessimistic viewpoint,
Bahn urges ‘readers… to delve into the old and neglected writings of the discipline’,
where they will find ‘untold riches in terms of concepts and pioneers which will show
them that there is really no such thing as a new idea, and that ideas evolve through a
constant compilation of older notions rather than come into being through sudden
discoveries or leaps of the imagination’ (p. xii).
Michael B. Schiffer (2017) has described archaeology as ‘the study of people
and things in all times and all places’. As a scientific discipline (historical as well as
anthropological), ‘archaeology has many footprints in the modern world: our work
affects governments at all levels, other sciences and humanities, and ordinary people’
(p. xiii). Archaeology has always been an important component of our life and world
view. As we have seen in this chapter, the last one hundred years have seen momentous
changes in our perception of the past. West Mexico has claimed a privileged position in
the Mesoamerican ecumene, and there is reason to believe that the next century of
archaeological research will be even more exciting and rewarding.
 131

Figure 12a. Map showing the major archaeological sites in Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit (prepared by
Eduardo Williams).

Figure 12b. Map of the Sinaloa and Nayarit coast, showing major archaeological sites and the
approximate area covered by the ‘Aztatlán tradition’ on the northwest (prepared by Eduardo Williams).
 132

Figure 13. Hollow clay anthropomorphic figure found by Adela Breton in the mound of Guadalupe, near
Etzatlán, Jalisco. Breton was a skilled artist as well as a keen explorer of Mexican antiquities (adapted
from Giles and Stuart 1989: Figure 32).
 133

Figure 14. Clay vessel with spout and handle, found by Carl Lumholtz in Tuxpan, Jalisco, around the turn
of the 20th century. This pottery type would later be identified as proof of Tarascan presence in the lake
region of Jalisco (adapted from Lumholtz 1986: p. 327).

Figure 15. Round structure excavated by Leon Diguet at Ixtlán, Nayarit, around 1900 (adapted from
Diguet 1992b: Figure 1).
 134

(a) (b)

Figure 16. Ancient stairway excavated by Leon Diguet (a), and anthropomorphic stone sculpture found by
Diguet around 1900 (b) in Ixtlán, Nayarit (adapted from Diguet 1992b: Figures 2 and 4).
 135

Figure 17. Isabel Kelly divided West Mexico into several ‘ceramic provinces’ that in her view pertained
to cultural areas characterized by distinct pottery styles and attributes (adapted from Kelly 1948: p. IX).

Figure 18. Pottery vessels pertaining to the Aztatlán complex of Sinaloa (adapted from Meighan 1971:
Figures 7-8).
 136

Figure 19. Drawing of the shaft tomb explored by Corona Nuñez at El Arenal, Jalisco after it had been
looted (lower left), and reconstruction drawings of other tombs from Jalisco and Nayarit (adapted from
Corona Nuñez 1951).

Figure 20. Peter Furst suggested that ethnographic data on shamanism could be used in the interpretation
of the pre-Hispanic ceramic figures found in the shaft tombs of West Mexico, like this horned figure from
Colima (photo courtesy of Hasso von Winning).
 137

Figure 21. Pottery figurines were quite numerous at the Morett site in Colima. Many specimens were
found within burials, like these four figurines pertaining to the type 1A (courtesy of Clement Meighan).

Figure 22. The skeletons found in the Tizapán (Jalisco) cemetery were in a flexed and sitting position in
small, tight-fitting grave pits. It is likely that the corpses were often tightly wrapped in some fashion prior
to interment (adapted from Meighan and Foote 1968: Map 3).
 138

Figure 23. These clay objects, probable fishnet sinkers, offer a glimpse into the subsistence activities of
the ancient dwellers of the Lake Chapala Basin (adapted from Bond 1971: Figure 24).

Figure 24. The ancient aquatic lifeway included hunting activities, as suggested by the projectile points
found in the Lake Chapala Basin (A-Q). Also indicative of aquatic subsistence activities are the ‘drill’ (R)
and scrapers (S-U) found in many sites within the Lake Chapala Basin (adapted from Bond 1971: Figure
32).
 139

Figure 25. These stone ‘choppers’ and scrapers may have been part of the assemblage linked to the
aquatic lifeway. The possible uses included manufacture activities such as making tools out of bone,
wood, skins, and aquatic plants (reeds and rushes), among others (adapted from Bond 1971: Figure 34).

Figure 26. These clay spindle whorls suggest that spinning (probably cultivated cotton) was a common
domestic activity in the pre-Hispanic communities scattered throughout the Lake Chapala Basin (adapted
from Bond 1971: Figure 31).
 140

Figure 27. Anthropomorphic figures found by Betty Bell in Cerro Encantado, Jalisco. These were the first
of the famous West Mexican large ‘horned figurines’ ever to come from a controlled excavation (after
Bell 1974b: Figure 5).
 141

Figure 28. Glyn Williams described several types of clay figurines in the Los Altos region of Jalisco.
Type I of Williams’ classification is characterized by a variety of features typical of Central Mexican Late
Preclassic figurines (adapted from Williams 1974: Figure 3).

Figure 29. Type II figurines are represented by just three specimens, all of them incomplete fragments.
They are flat and have been pressure molded; it is quite possible that they were part of effigy vessels
(adapted from Williams 1974: Figure 5).
 142

Figure 30. Type III figurines are very common in the area studied by Williams. They differ from types I
and II in having a gloss finish and having been fired black (adapted from Williams 1974: Figure 6).

Figure 31. Type IV is different from the other three types, although the body ornamentation suggests an
evolution from Type I (adapted from Williams 1974: Figure 7).
 143

Figure 32. Type K figurines are generally ascribed to the Middle or Late Formative (adapted from
Williams 1974: Figure 9 b, c).

Figure 33. Stone slab with Tlaloc figure found by Glynn Williams in the Jalisco Highlands (adapted from
Williams 1974: Figure 12).
 144

CHAPTER III
FIRST INHABITANTS AND EARLY CULTURAL DEVELOPMENT

This chapter presents a discussion of the beginnings of culture in ancient West Mexico,
from the time of the first human occupants of the Paleoindian period (ca. 15,000 BC) 1 to
the first examples of agriculture and settled villages in the Archaic period (ca. 7000-1500
BC). First, I present a brief discussion of West Mexico’s geographical and cultural
background. Second, I discuss the earliest known examples of human occupation in the
area under discussion, followed by a review of the first examples of sedentary life in West
Mexico, other areas of Mesoamerica, and beyond.

Geographical Background of West Mexico

West Mexico is the largest of the areas that made up ancient Mesoamerica, but also the
most diverse from an ecological perspective. It is not a single geographical or cultural unit,
as can be seen by its great cultural diversity in pre-Hispanic times. Western Mexico also
spans several physiographic settings, including a good number of varied ecological niches.
According to the geographical study carried out by Robert West (1964), Western Mexico
extends over the following areas of northwestern Mexico: the Mesa Central, the Cordillera
Neovolcánica, the Sierra Madre Occidental and the Coastal Lowlands that border the
Pacific Ocean (Figure 34). Western Mexico is almost impossible to define as a single unit
using physical or biological criteria because it is an area of contact and transition among at
least six physiographic regions –the Northwestern Coastal Plain, the Sierra Madre
Occidental, the Neo-volcanic Axis, the Altiplano Central, the Sierra Madre del Sur and the
Balsas Depression– and four bio-geographical provinces: Sinaloense, Sierra Madre
Occidental, Volcánica Transversal and Nayarit-Guerrero. From the perspective of its
physical and biological geography, this region appears to be characterized, more than
anything else, by diversity and transition, and these are the traits that probably best define it
(Jardel 1994:18).

1
The earliest date of human occupation in West Mexico is still open to debate. The figure quoted here is an estimate based on dates
reported from other regions of North and Middle America (e.g. Fagan 1995).
 145

No discussion of Western Mexico’s geographical setting would be complete without

mentioning its rivers and lakes (Tamayo and West 1964) (Figure 35). The Mexican Pacific
watershed receives less rainfall and covers much less area than the Atlantic one, and is
characterized by surface streams with relatively small discharge. There are only two large
drainage basins in this region: the Lerma-Santiago and Balsas systems. Even most
permanent currents in the Pacific watershed are characterized by a markedly seasonal
regime, and many of the smaller rivers are only intermittent (Williams 1996).
Since earliest times, lakes, rivers and swamps in Western Mexico and other regions
of Mesoamerica were outstanding areas for human occupation, thanks to their rich
concentrations of flora, fauna, fertile land and other elements indispensable for subsistence.
These areas functioned as communication routes between regions and witnessed the rise of
important cultural developments (Williams 1996). The main lakes in Western Mexico
(from east to west) are: Cuitzeo, Pátzcuaro, Zacapu, Chapala, Sayula, Zapotlán, Atotonilco
and Magdalena (Tamayo and West 1964).
The Lerma-Santiago system is one of the most extensive hydrographic basins in
Middle America. The present-day Lerma drainage system originates in the marshes and
lakes of the southern end of the Toluca Valley. Downstream, many tributaries join this river
as it traverses portions of the present-day states of México, Querétaro, Guanajuato,
Michoacán and Jalisco. The Lerma is a slow-moving river with a slight gradient and many
meanderings along its course. The Grande de Santiago River originates in Lake Chapala
and flows across the southern part of the Sierra Madre Occidental before reaching the
Pacific Ocean in the state of Nayarit. Its most important tributaries are the Verde, Juchipila,
Bolaños, Apozolco and Guaynamota rivers (Tamayo and West 1964).
The Lerma River basin and its surrounding areas are known as El Bajío (the
lowlands). It is difficult to define the Bajío in geographical and cultural terms. Almost all
attempts at geographical definition emphasize the Lerma River as the dominant feature.
This means, of course, that we should include broad areas of Michoacán and parts of
Jalisco, as well as an extended portion of Guanajuato and areas in Querétaro. In reality, the
Lerma River is the only way to define the core area of the Bajío with its system of
permanent rivers and their tributaries, extensive marshlands, lakes and flatlands bordered
by intrusive hills and low mountains in the immediate area. To the south, these flatlands
 146

and mountains gradually ascend to form the Meseta Tarasca (Tarascan Plateau), while in
the north, the hills and bottom lands transform almost imperceptibly into the great North
American steppe, becoming progressively more arid as they advance inland.
Although the Bajío is not a large area in terms of territory, especially when
compared to the Mesoamerican highlands north of the Tehuantepec Isthmus, it is a truly
unique region, for it is traversed by one of the largest rivers in Mesoamerica, which flows
over wide, flat valleys with extensive swamps and numerous lakes. This region is also
known for the high quality of its agricultural land. Apart from the extremely rich water and
soil profile, its natural wealth included abundant aquatic species, nearby obsidian deposits,
and pine-oak forests in the adjacent hills and highlands. It is difficult indeed to picture a
natural landscape more fertile and bountiful (Weigand and Williams 1999:17).
The largest body of water in Middle America, Lake Chapala, occupies a broad basin
some 80 km long (from east to west). It is the only lake that remains from a series of Late
Tertiary stepped-basins that received abundant discharges from the Lerma, Duero and Zula
Rivers. Lake Chapala has been much affected by pollution in recent years and has lost
much of its water due to hydraulic projects that supply water to urban and industrial areas
such as Guadalajara and Mexico City.
To the southeast of Chapala we find one of the most important lake basins for our
historical reconstruction of ancient culture in West Mexico: Lake Pátzcuaro, once the seat
of the Tarascan Empire (Figure 36). Lake Pátzcuaro is located in the Neo-Transversal
Volcanic Belt in central Michoacán, at an altitude of 2,043 m above sea level. In this
region, five physiographical areas are clearly marked: islands, lake margins, slopes,
intermountain valleys, and mountains (Toledo and Argueta 1992:221). This is a closed
basin with a surface area of 1,525 km2 where a lake was formed by many underground
water currents and surface streams. It has an average annual volume of 81 million cubic
meters of water (Maderey and Correa 1974:217), and an extension of approximately 100
km2 (Toledo and Argueta 1992:221). It belongs to an endorheic system in which the water
balance is affected by rainfall, evaporation and infiltration from the catchment area.
Underground infiltration has diminished by 6-12% in recent years due to deforestation in
the basin and the subsequent erosion of surrounding soils (Chacón 1992:41).
 147

Lake Pátzcuaro is not very deep. In 1941, its depth was 15.24 m in the northern
area, but its level has fluctuated considerably in historical times (West 1948:3). In 1992,
maximum depths of 8 and 12 m were reported (Toledo and Argueta 1992:221). The Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin has a cold-land climate (CBW), with a vegetable cover consisting of oak
and other broadleaf trees, such as madroño (Arbutus sp.) and jaboncillo (Sapindaceae),
among others, which predominate in a three-kilometer radius around the lake. Other
common plants in the lakeside area are colorín (Erythrina americana), casahuate (Ipomoea
murucoides) and white zapote (Casimiroa edulis). On the lake margins there are
hydrophilic plants such as willows (Salix bonplandiana), tepozán bushes (Buddelia spp.),
and patches of carrizo reeds (Arundo donax). Swampy areas are characterized by tule
(cattails) thickets (Cyperus thrysiflorus, Typha latifolia, T. dominguensis), while other
aquatic plants include several species of water lily (Nymphaea spp.). Low-lying slopes
around the lake may once have been covered by mixed pine-oak forests, but pines
disappeared long ago because they were cut down for fuel and timber (West 1948).
Forests in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin consist of several species of oak (Quercus
spp.), pine (Pinus spp.), and oyamel (Abies religiosa), with a pronounced presence of herbs
and bushes. Agricultural lands are located on the lake’s margins and nearby slopes, and
make up roughly 40% of the basin’s landscape. Although the communities in this area are
primarily agricultural, household subsistence and reproduction also depend on activities
such as plant-gathering, forest exploitation, fishing, hunting, cattle-raising and artisanal
production, among others (Toledo and Argueta 1992). According to Toledo and Argueta,
the indigenous communities there learned how to skillfully utilize the resources found on
the land and in aquatic habitats. This is expressed in thirteen agricultural systems, nine
types of fishing, eight craft activities, and small-scale cattle-raising, etcetera, as well as in a
detailed knowledge of species (more than 400 named plants, 140 animals and 53
mushrooms), types of vegetation, and classes of soils (Toledo and Argueta 1992:233-234).
According to Toledo et al. (1980), some 250 plant species have been recorded in the
forests and grasslands of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (including trees, bushes, herbs and
epiphytes). They have many uses that have been categorized as: medicinal (99), alimentary
(30), household (20), fuel (16), ornamental (12), fodder (9), aromatic (7), house
 148

construction (7), resin (6), work tools (4), tanning (4), toys (4), poisons (3), insecticides (2),
and magical-religious (7) (Toledo et al. 1980:32).
The Lake Pátzcuaro Basin is an area of remarkable ecological diversity, though at
first glance one perceives an apparent homogeneity. This relatively small area contains a
great variety of natural plant communities, complemented by numerous human-induced
species that combine to produce a particularly intricate space where it is difficult to
distinguish the original vegetation and the impact of anthropogenic factors in its
distribution (Caballero et al. 1992:71).
Lake Cuitzeo is located to the northeast of Lake Pátzcuaro (Figure 37). Though it
was one of the largest bodies of water in West Mexico, its volume has diminished greatly in
recent times. The lake basin occupies a surface area of 3,618 km2 in the modern-day states
of Michoacán and Guanajuato, and is the largest lake in Michoacán. Its primary sources are
the Grande, Chico de Morelia and Queréndaro rivers (Guevara Fefer 1989:24-25; Corona
Nuñez 1946:15). Lake Cuitzeo fills a naturally-enclosed basin, which may be considered a
sub-basin of the Lerma River system, since it joins that river through a system of feeder
channels that link Lake Cuitzeo with Lake Yuriria, and the latter with the Lerma in the state
of Guanajuato (Maderey and Correa 1974:217). Lake Cuitzeo also receives discharges from
several small streams: Chucándiro, Salitre, Blanco, Capacho, Oncho, Grande, Carucho,
Colorado and Sanjón Blanco (Corona Nuñez 1946:15).
According to the pioneer limnologist Fernando de Buen (1944), lakes Zirahuén,
Cuitzeo and Pátzcuaro may have been formed by successive sub-divisions of a fluvial
basin, segmented by the interposition of barriers formed by the accumulation of volcanic
materials. Through the Lerma River Basin, ancient lakes (probably dating from the
Miocene or Pliocene periods) formed one extensive intercontinental lake, or perhaps
several stepped lakes. Because of the continual reduction of the volume of water in this
lake, its level has been falling steadily. In fact, if the evolution of these lakes in Michoacán
continues along this path they will eventually shrink until they become simple valleys.
Moreover, because Lake Pátzcuaro is in a closed basin, rainfall and water evaporation exert
a marked influence on variations in its water level (de Buen 1944:100-111).
Returning to Lake Cuitzeo, we find that it has a high rate of evaporation due to its
broad extension. This fact, together with sedimentation caused by deforestation in the
 149

basin, has greatly reduced its depth, which in the 1940s was 3-4 m (Corona Nuñez
1946:16). When rainwater is scarce, extensive areas of this lake simply dry up, exposing
broad expanses of salts, saltpeter, potash and other sediments (Macías Goytia 1990:18).
Saltpeter and tequesquite 2 are gathered on the lake’s margins. The former is used as a
complement to cattle feed, while muleteers take the latter to tierra caliente (the Hot Lands
of the Tepelcatepec River basin) in Michoacán, to exchange it for fruit and cascalote. 3
Lime is another important mineral extracted from the lake bed. Processed in kilns and used
to make nixtamal, 4 it is sold almost exclusively within the lake Cuitzeo Basin (Corona
Nuñez 1946:43).
Among the problems that inhabitants of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin face today we find
water pollution, the decreasing area covered by water, and the weaker flow of the rivers and
streams that feed into the lake (Ávila 2002). This lake sometimes dries up almost entirely
when droughts are prolonged, and its waters are almost entirely salty (Corona Nuñez
1946:16). Located at an altitude of 1,820 m above sea level, its area is now estimated at 420
km2, though in the late 1970s it measured 51.3 km long by 12.3 km wide, with an average
depth of 1.15 m. Between 1986 and 1988, over two-thirds of the lake area became
permanently dry, and the average depth decreased to almost one meter (Rojas and Novelo
1995).
The area of north-central Michoacán where Lake Cuitzeo is located is abundant in
agricultural lands, which are used primarily for seasonal production, though there are some
irrigated fields that yield good crops. The grains grown there include maize, wheat,
sorghum, beans and chick peas, as well as alfalfa and sugar cane. Animal husbandry,
including cattle- and pig-raising, is practiced in areas with natural grasses. Chickens are
also raised in this region. Finally, the surrounding forests –primarily conifers with mixed
vegetation– are also exploited (Atlas geográfico 2000:128).
The predominant trees in the landscape are mesquites and pirules, while local
bushes include huizache and cazahuate; other native plants are maguey and aloe vera
(sábila) (Corona Nuñez 1946). In the first half of the 20th century, maguey cultivation

2
Natural salt used in Mexico as a food seasoning since pre-Hispanic times, it is composed primarily of bicarbonate of soda and common
salt (sodium chloride).
3
A leguminous plant (Caesalpinia coriaria) from southern Mexico, whose gum and seeds are used to produce tannins for processing
animal skins.
4
Processed maize; after boiling the kernels and eliminating their outer skin, they are ground to make flour for tortilla and tamale
preparation.
 150

invaded a large part of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, while the tulares (i.e., areas covered by
rushes called tules) that once flourished around the towns of Chucándiro and Huandacareo
had almost disappeared due to uncontrolled exploitation and gradual desiccation of the lake
over time (Corona Nuñez 1946).
This Basin is covered by distinctive vegetation (Williams 2014a: Table 2). Of the
extant plant communities, the most widely-represented is the tular, which appears primarily
in the eastern area of the lake, and includes the following species: Typha dominguensis, T.
latifolia, Scripus validus, S. americanus, and S. californicus, among others (Rojas and
Novelo 1995:5). Regarding local flora, it has been said that the extension and variety of
environmental conditions in the lake (i.e., low depth, presence of springs, variable water
column, and several types of sediments and rocks) result in a broad diversity of habitats that
produce a great richness in flora, composed of 40 families, 70 genera and 92 species of
aquatic and water-resistant plants; a higher number than that of any other lentic body in
Mexico (Rojas and Novelo 1995).
However, this wealth in flora is threatened by extensive deforestation in the basin.
According to a study conducted in 1995, the recent spread of human settlements around the
lake, the deforestation of nearby woodlands, and the increased demand on resources
(primarily water) on the part of large cities, such as Morelia, and irrigation districts in the
area, have brought about an unprecedented intensification of the hydrologic imbalance in
the basin. A considerable decrease in the water flow that the lake receives has caused a
marked loss in the depth and extension of the flooded area, and has contributed to the
extinction of the habitats and aquatic communities that once existed there (Rojas and
Novelo 1995).
Turning to the western corner of the West Mexican Lake District we find Lake
Sayula, flanked by Lake Atotonilco to the north and Lake Zapotlán to the south. The Lake
Sayula Basin is 35 km long and 20 km wide, with a surface of around 700 km2, of which
200 km2 consist of playa; that is, dry lake-bottom surface. This basin has a well-defined
geological configuration and a semi-arid climate with cool winters and hot summers. Rain
falls mainly during the summer and there is a seven-month long dry season (Liot and
Schondube 2005:56). During the rainy season (June-October) water from the aquifer rises
to form a temporary lake that supports a small-scale fishing industry based on fine-mesh
 151

nets used to capture crustacean larvae, insects and small fish. The daily catch is usually laid
out to dry on the beach under the sun. Though fishing is no longer a major activity, it may
have been quite important in the past since Francisco del Paso y Troncoso (1905), for
example, reported that ‘there was much fish in the wet season’. In the dry season, a distinct
but very important economic resource was exploited by local people; namely, common salt,
or sodium chloride (Liot and Schondube 2005:57). Salt was a strategic resource of prime
importance in Mesoamerica, and the Sayula salt deposits were targeted by the Tarascan
Empire during the Postclassic period (Williams 2003, 2015).
Geology, hydrology, topography and climate combine to give Western Mexico its
characteristic cover of vegetation. The most abundant botanical configuration is the
deciduous tropical forest, followed by a high-altitude configuration typified by conifers and
Quercus. Less widespread is the sub-deciduous tropical forest. In the driest parts of the area
–particularly toward the north– we find mainly thorny underbrush (matorrales), grasslands
and xerophytic plants (Rzedowski and Equihua 1987:14).
Having dealt with these physiographic aspects, the section that follows presents an
overview of pre-Hispanic cultural development in Western Mexico from the earliest times
to the first examples of settled life.
Paleoindian Period: West Mexico’s First Inhabitants
Our archaeological knowledge of the earliest periods of Mesoamerica is sketchy at best,
and in the case of West Mexico data consist of just a slow trickle of information. Because
of the paucity of research in our area of interest, we have to look at the rest of Mexico,
Central America and other areas in order to form an educated guess about the earliest
cultural developments in the western portions of the area that would become Mesoamerica.

Evans (2004a) has pointed out that humans arrived in the New World near the end
of the Pleistocene (ca. 13,000 BC), though by about 30,000 BC in the Old World, ‘fully
modern humans had pushed into the most extreme habitats of Africa, Asia, and Europe. In
the far north, they hunted and foraged for their food, occasionally bringing down one of the
huge beasts, such as mammoths, so characteristic of Late Pleistocene steppes and forests’
(p. 62). This megafauna consisted of gigantic mammals that ‘became extinct as Pleistocene
climatic conditions ended, and also because [they] were hunted into extinction by humans.
Most of the human diet was from… available edible plants and small animals. Small groups
 152

camped close to the resources exploited at the moment’. But wild foods could support only
a small number of people for a limited time, so groups shifted their residence according to
the season. As a result, ‘campsite groups were small, probably a few related nuclear
families, and temporary, [lasting] a few days or weeks’ (p. 62).

We have very little information on the first stages of human occupation in West
Mexico. Through analogies with other Mesoamerican areas (and beyond), we can assume
that by around 15,000 BC 5 this region was occupied by hunter-gatherers who exploited a
vast array of natural environments. The few archaeological finds pertaining to this period
consist of some stone flakes and projectile points, as well as pieces of modified bone found
in the Zacoalco-San Marcos-Lake Chapala area of Jalisco (Solórzano 1980). These artifacts
include two grooved obsidian points from the Zacoalco site that belong to a type similar to
Clovis (see below), and various implements made of animal bone and deer antler from the
lake areas of Zacoalco and Chapala. The following artifacts (all made of bone) have been
studied and classified in the Regional Museum of Guadalajara: three needle fragments, one
broken fishhook, two pendants, three fragments with clear use marks, two scraping tools,
two hammers and, finally, seven scrapers (Solórzano 1980:96).
The earliest Paleoindian assemblage so far described for West Mexico—and one of
the oldest in the whole of Middle America—is reported by Punzo and Martínez (2018),
who recently conducted an excavation at Cueva de los Hacheros, a rock shelter in the
municipality of Turicato, in the Tierra Caliente. Several lithic tools were found in the
excavation, laying in deep strata without any associated pottery. The stone artifacts include
flakes, projectile points, scrapers and knives, among others. The style of the stone points is
similar to the one reported for Zacoalco, Jalisco (see below). The radiocarbon dates
obtained in the Los Hacheros cave (12039-11399 BP), indicate that this is one of the few
known instances of Paleoindian occupation in West Mexico.
Several paleontological finds of megafauna have been made in scattered areas of
West Mexico (Solórzano 1980), often coinciding with ancient lake basins, such as Zacoalco
(Aliphat 1987), Cuitzeo (Corona Nuñez 1979:21) and Chapala (Romo 2016). The list
includes the following examples of large mammals (among many others): antelope
5
Brian Fagan (1995:77-78) holds that ‘no archaeological site dating to earlier than 15,000 years ago in any part of the New World has
received complete scientific acceptance… The most widely discussed claims to early settlement come… from northeast Brazil and…
northern Chile’, dating at 40,000 BP and 12,000 or 30,000 BP respectively. Fagan concludes that ‘evidence for settlement… is almost
non-existent in North America before about 12,000 years ago’ (p. 78).
 153

(Tetrameryx sp.), bison (Bison cheneyi), camel (Camelops sp.), glyptodon (Brachyostracon
cylindricus), horse (Equus conversidens), llama (Lama sp.), mammoth (Elephas columbi),
mastodon (Serridentinus sp.), megalonix (Megalonix jeffersoni), and megatherium
(Megatherium americanus) (Solórzano 1980: Table 2).
According to Solórzano (1980), Jalisco’s paleontological potential must have been
greater and more diverse than the species of flora and fauna found today. This author noted
the presence of many different fossils, ranging from small plant species and small animals
to mammals. Prehistoric horses, for instance, were plentiful in the meadows of Jalisco (p.
77), where perhaps the most famous finds are the mammoth fossils (probably Mammut
americanum) found in 1962 near Santa Catarina in the Lake Zacoalco Basin (Romo 2016)
and the gomphotherium discovered near Lake Chapala in 2000 (this was a unique find, for
the skeleton was almost 90% complete; Tapia-Ramírez et al. 2013). A species of
gomphotherium (Cuvieronius hyodon) roamed the present-day state of Colima, where a
specimen was found 30 km outside Colima City, in the Coahuayana River Basin (Tapia-
Ramírez et al. 2013:594). 6
In North America, the archaeological cultures (Figure 38a) that shared the living
space with such large creatures as the Columbian mammoth (Mammuthus columbi) and
other species of now extinct fauna are best known by the Clovis assemblage (Figure 38b),
named after a site in New Mexico (Plog 1997; Tankersley et al. 2009). The most diagnostic
feature of this people’s assemblage was the series of spear points found across North and
Middle America, including two examples from Lakes Zacoalco-Sayula (Aliphat 1987:149)
and one from the Huichol Indian territory in the Sierra Madre Occidental (Weigand 1970).
In the first case, the points were found on the surface, without archaeological context, but
the second case involved one point in ethnographic context, which had been reused as a
ceremonial object.
Ancient megafauna have long fascinated many people. In North America,
excavations of mammoths, mastodons and other large animals have been performed since
the 18th century, if not before. Those early explorations involved, among others, two of the
most important political and intellectual figures of their time: Benjamin Franklin (1705-

6
Several species of mammoth, mastodon and other proboscideans have been reported for the New World: Amebelodon, Mammuthus
americanum, M. columbi, M. imperator, M. primigenius, among others. The gomphotherium (e.g. Cuvieronius sp.) was a smaller animal
than the towering mammoths and mastodons that averaged 2.7 m in height. The gomphotherium reached South America in the
Pleistocene, where it seems to have survived until AD 400 before being hunted to extinction (Cox et al. 1988:241, 245).
 154

1790), one of the Founding Fathers of the United States, and Thomas Jefferson (1743-
1826), the third president of that nation. We saw in Chapter II that Jefferson had a keen
interest in archaeology. In discussing his paleontological work on a mastodon kill site at
Large Bone Lick, Kentucky (in 1766), he pointed out that indigenous people had hunted
mastodon since earliest times, based on Algonquian oral traditions that described how their
ancestors hunted and killed those huge elephants at Large Bone Lick (Tankersley et al.
2009:559).
The Large Bone Lick site is located near the Ohio River in Kentucky. It owes its
name to the large salt springs there, among the largest in North America. During the late
Pleistocene, saline springs and the surrounding salt licks attracted a faunal community that
included proboscideans such as mammoths (Mammuthus sp.) and mastodons (M.
americannum), as well as the hunters and scavengers who pursued them (Tankersley et al.
2009:558). These hunters had a highly-efficient stone tool assemblage that included Clovis
points. Fagan (1995) wrote that ‘Clovis stone workers used a careful reduction process that
started with large bifaces and branched out into smaller artifacts with maximum economy
and logical efficiency’ (p. 83). The most distinctive and widely-known item in the Clovis
stone tool assemblage is the fluted projectile point. Modern experiments have shown that
‘Clovis points were time-consuming to prepare, so the hunters re-sharpened them again and
again… Exactly how the points were hafted is unknown, but… [they were] probably…
mounted in wooden or bone foreshafts that worked loose from the spear shaft once the head
was buried in its quarry’ (p. 84). In addition to spear points, the Clovis assemblage included
‘bifacially trimmed points and other woodworking and butchering artifacts’ (p. 84). The
stone tool Clovis industry represents ‘the oldest universally acknowledged, unequivocally
cultural horizon in the Americas… Specimens of this unique point have been found [in]
virtually the entire North American continent’ (Sánchez 2001:119).
The Clovis people ‘hunted in all corners of North America until about 10,900 years
ago, 7 when they abruptly vanish from the archaeological record… the disappearance of
Clovis coincides with… the mass extinction of Ice-Age large-game animals… This has led
to speculation that Clovis people overhunted these mammals and drove them to extinction’
(Fagan 1995:85).

7
Sánchez (2001:119) mentions a somewhat earlier date for Clovis: 11,500 BP, or 13,350 BP (calibrated C-14).
 155

No fossil remains associated with human activity –such as hunting weapons or

butchering tools– have been found in West Mexico, but a recent paleontological find in
Tultepec, a village in the Basin of Mexico, has been interpreted as a mammoth fossil
believed to be about 14,000 years old, whose bones were found in a scattered array,
suggesting that it had been cut up by humans for its meat and pelt (Velazquez et al. 2016).
However, an alternative explanation would be that the skeleton had been altered by
taphonomic processes, such as predators (wolves, for instance) or scavengers. This may be
a more likely proposition than hunting, given the absence of artifacts (see Binford 1981 for
a discussion of the effect of natural post-deposition processes on animal bones, and how
they can be mistaken for evidence of human intervention).
Several archaeological finds of mammoth remains with Paleoindian tools associated
with the skeletons were made in the mid-20th century. Sánchez (2001) mentions that ‘in
July of 1950… in the town of Santa María Iztapan located at the northeast edge of Lake
Texcoco’ an accidental find brought to light ‘fragments of mammoth bones and tusk’, while
in ‘July of 1952 Luis Aveleyra and Arturo Romano began excavations at the locality’. They
found ‘a projectile point… lodged between two mammoth ribs. Further work revealed the
presence of five more artifacts associated with the remains. Eighty percent of the skeleton
was recovered’ (p. 126). Two years after that find, ‘a second mammoth [was] located [near]
the previous mammoth… The second skeleton was quite complete and showed clear
evidence of butchering… Three artifacts were found in direct association with the bones,
one of them a projectile point’ (pp. 126-127). Another discovery of megafauna was made
during the 1950s ‘at San Bartolo Atepehuacán… in the northernmost part of the Basin of
Mexico’. This find consisted of ‘an almost complete mammoth… [with] a utilized obsidian
flake and at least 59 bifacial thinning flakes and chips of obsidian and fine basalt… [these
items were found] associated with the remains; the mammoth hunters apparently
resharpened their tools while butchering the animal’ (p. 127).
Fagan (1995) tells us that ‘the earliest securely dated human settlement in North
America dates to about 14,000-12,000 years ago’ (p. 80), while around 11,200-10,900 BP
the Clovis culture developed into successful, efficient large-game hunters who were also
foragers that brought down large-game species like the mammoth and Ice Age bison that
had adapted to changing ecological conditions. In Fagan’s view, ‘judging from Plains sites,
 156

the Clovis people were especially fond of mammoth and bison. Mammoth bones occur at
almost every kill site known’. This creature’s important role in subsistence derives from the
fact that ‘a single animal could provide meat for weeks on end, and… hides, tusks, bones,
and pelts were used to make household possessions and weapons, for shelter, even
clothing… [and] fat from the internal organs could be melted down and used for cooking
and burning in lamps’ (pp. 81-82).
However, it would be a mistake to think that the popular view of ancient people as
‘heroic large-game hunters’ applied to the Clovis culture. They did not subsist by killing
large animals only, but also hunted smaller species like deer, rabbits and other mammals,
reptiles and birds, etcetera. Wild plants were also used as food, and fish and other aquatic
resources were no doubt consumed as well (p. 81).
The first humans to enter the area bordering West Mexico to the north (the
Southwestern United States), found a very different environment from the one we see
today. Deserts and grasslands did not dominate the landscape then, for the plant cover was
much more varied than it is at present (Plog 1997:37) and water was more abundant. The
first humans to venture into this territory were hunters and gatherers (Cordell 2001) who
found several species of fauna, like rabbit, deer and antelope, as well as large-game animals
like the ones discussed above.
Regarding climate change and ecological variability, Turpin et al. (1995) mention
archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence that indicates the climatic conditions in
northern Mexico. The first Spanish settlers who colonized the present-day Nuevo Leon-
Texas border area spoke of the commercial production of sugar cane, which began in the
17th century and lasted until the late 19th century. The Salinas River and many springs
provided sufficient water for irrigation, while other crops in addition to sugar cane were
grown for domestic consumption on marginal lands. By around 1918, however, many
springs had dried up and the major industry had shifted to the production of sotol (an
alcoholic drink) and maguey (p. 179).
According to Plog (1997), ‘the two most famous Paleo-Indian sites in the region,
Clovis and Folsom… have given their names to the oldest spear points found widely across
North America’ (p. 38). As discussed above, ‘Clovis points appear to be consistently
associated with remains of large, now-extinct Pleistocene animals. At Folsom sites, in
 157

contrast, we find high frequencies of smaller animals, as well as a smaller type of bison…
Clovis and Folsom point forms thus span a period of transition’ when their users ‘had to
adapt to significant change in the Southwest environment’ (p. 39); Folsom points are dated
at ca. 9000-8000 BC in the Southwest (p. 39). There is at least one example of a Folsom-
type point in West Mexico in archaeological context, discovered at the site of
Guachimontones in central Jalisco (Canales et al. 2006).
Plog has stated that ‘when we examine the entire prehistoric time span, the
archaeological record reveals a striking amount of cultural change’. In this regard, our goal
as archaeologists ‘is to learn how prehistoric peoples transformed their culture and
responded to changing conditions over periods of millennia’ (p. 36). With this objective in
mind, the following section addresses the Archaic period in West Mexico.
Archaic Period: First Examples of Settled Life
The end of the Pleistocene some 10,000 years ago came about in part because of ‘small
changes in climate [that] accumulated over the centuries, bringing changes in local
topography and flora and fauna. Middle America’s climate became wetter and warmer,
and… seasons became more pronounced. Summer was the rainy season, and winter was
cold and dry, a pattern that persists to this day’ (Evans 2004a:71). Animals like the
‘mammoth, bison, and other megafauna dependent on the cool grassy steppe so extensive
during the Pleistocene… became extinct in Middle America… the new, more dissected
landscape had more microenvironments, and supported different kinds of plant and animal
resources, whose abundance varied, by seasons’. Because of the pronounced climatic
changes and the extinction of large-game, ‘the food quest… shifted definitively toward
smaller game (deer, rabbits), fruits like cactus prickly-pears, and seeds from grasses and
seed pods… Processing these foods required new kinds of tools… [such as] ground stone
milling tools’ that ‘represent a technological revolution for emerging Mesoamerican
culture, new devices for a new job: getting calories and protein from small plants’ (p. 71).
This process was not unlike the ‘Neolithic Revolution’ of the Old World, which was also
characterized by a new tool assemblage, including querns and other grinding tools, and
eventually pottery, in what Robert Braidwood (1967:119) called ‘the first basic change in
human economy’, and Grahame Clark (1977:41) characterized as ‘a period during which…
 158

men practiced farming and a number of new industrial arts, including polishing flint axes,
weaving, and potting’.
Evans (2004a) sees the Archaic period as a time when ‘Middle American foragers
became increasingly adept at securing food from plants, ultimately developing a basic triad
of plant crops –maize (corn), beans and squash– that still serves as the broad base of the
food pyramid for modern peoples of Mexico and Central America’ (pp. 71-72).
Students of hunter-gatherers have tended to see them ‘in comparative, evolutionary,
and materialist terms… From the early 1900s up to the 1960s, they depicted hunter-
gatherers as primitive societies, unable to rely on predictable food supplies, constantly in
danger of starvation, and, as a result, underdeveloped in their cultural and social
institutions’, according to Fagan (1995:88). In an oft-cited quote, the English philosopher
Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) characterized the life of our prehistoric forebears as:
‘Solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short’. This negative (and ethnocentric) viewpoint has
endured for a long time; however, one of the first systematic studies of hunter-gatherers
from a worldwide perspective (Lee and de Vore 1968) revealed that, although textbooks
always discuss the Paleolithic period as an age in which humankind barely managed to eke
out a precarious living, the fact is that our most distant ancestors were the first affluent
society in the sense that, as Sahlins (1968) has argued, they were able to satisfy all their
needs with relatively little effort. ‘During the 1960s a series of thorough field studies…
discovered that hunters do not necessarily die young, nor do they constantly struggle
against food shortages and an alien environment… Contemporary anthropological theory
[and] cultural ecology… stressed the importance of understanding local environments…
hunter-gatherer behavior became rational, adaptive [, and] had an underlying logic —
sustain long-term internal group equilibrium’ (Fagan 1995:88; see also Binford 1983).
Plog (1997) has called the Archaic period in the U.S. Southwest ‘a momentous
epoch. Spanning… from 6000/5500 to 200 BC, it encompassed consecutively the decline
of large-game hunting, the establishment of an economy based on plant collection, and
finally the beginning of a dependence on domesticated plants… The archaeological
evidence, however, is tantalizingly slight’ (p. 46). While the peoples of the Paleoindian
period gave priority to hunting, in the Archaic period plant collecting was emphasized,
though hunting continued as before in the fall and winter, when few edible plants could be
 159

found. Hunters pursued primarily smaller species. Thanks to the dry desert conditions,
some perishable items have survived in the archaeological record, illustrating the
importance of hunting, as well as some of the methods employed; namely, snares made of
cordage of yucca and other plant fibers (p. 47) (Figure 39).
South of the border that separates the United States from Mexico, Carpenter et al.
(2018) have documented a rich and varied Archaic cultural tradition in Sonora, where there
is abundant archaeological evidence for human occupation from the Paleoindian period (ca.
13,000 BP), and the subsequent Archaic period (ca. 10,000-5,000 BP) is also well-
represented. Many sites with stone projectile points and other artifacts have been reported
throughout the plains of Sonora, and there are shell middens in the central coastal region.
Carpenter et al. present evidence ‘suggesting that the early Holocene hunters and gatherers
likely evolved directly from the local Clovis tradition in concert with the nascent Sonoran
Desert’ (p. 98). With the arrival of moderate climatic conditions during the late Holocene,
human groups moved out of the foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental toward the
Sonoran Desert, where they introduced maize agriculture.
Richard MacNeish (1964), meanwhile, called the development of agriculture and
animal husbandry ‘perhaps the most significant single occurrence in human history… this
transition from food-gathering to food production took place between 10,000 and 16,000
years ago at a number of places in the highlands of the Middle East’ (p. 155). Although
archaeological evidence for this transition, particularly excavated examples of domesticated
plants, is extremely meager, MacNeish and his associates thought that the transition from
hunting and gathering to cultivation represented a ‘Neolithic Revolution’ in which
abundant food, a sedentary way of life and an expanding population base provided the
foundations upon which all known high civilizations were built.
MacNeish (1964) further pointed out that many of the native civilizations from
Mesoamerica to the Andes had a larger variety of domesticated plants than did Europeans
at the time of the first transatlantic encounters (16th century), and had made agricultural
advances far beyond those of the Old World. The peoples of the Old World domesticated
many animals and comparatively few plants, whereas in the Americas the opposite was the
case. In fact, all the cultures of native America depended on hunting and gathering for most
of their animal produce (meat and hides, furs and feathers, teeth and claws, among others)
 160

until the adoption of Western techniques based on the plough and other technical
innovations.
MacNeish (1967) had a keen interest in the processes of plant domestication and the
inception of early sedentary communities in Mesoamerica and other areas of the ancient
world. This led him to implement the Tehuacan Archaeological-Botanical Project (1961-
1964), a large-scale archaeological investigation concerned with reconstructing the ancient
subsistence patterns in the Tehuacan Valley of Puebla, Mexico and tracing the development
of agriculture there. MacNeish and his associates found wild corn (Zea mays), as well as
twelve strains of domesticated corn. Five species of beans were uncovered (Phaseolus
spp.), and numerous remains of fruits, including wild and domesticated avocado (Persea
americana), black zapote (Diospyros digyna), white zapote (Casimiroa edulis), guava
(Psidium guajava), plum (Spondias mombin), tomato (Physalis sp.), and peanuts (Arachis
hypogaea). Cotton fiber (Gossypium hirsutum) and the bones of dogs (Canis familiaris) and
turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) were evidence of other kinds of domesticates, while chili
peppers (Capsicum annuum) and amaranth (Amaranthus?) also appeared in the
excavations. ‘Certainly some of these specimens, particularly in later levels, are from
domesticated plants, but the earlier remains are more fragmentary and one cannot assuredly
say they were planted’ (p. 290). Figure 40 shows changing trends in the importance of the
principal food sources in the Tehuacan Valley sequence, from wild species at the bottom to
domesticated ones at the top. From MacNeish’s survey of Mesoamerican archaeological
sequences the reader may gain the impression of the advent of more effective food
production techniques involving an increasing variety of plants and accomplished by a wide
variety of agricultural practices that may represent local adaptive responses to different
ecological zones (p. 309).
MacNeish and Eubanks (2000) mention the existence of two divergent models that
have been proposed to settle the question of the origin of agriculture in Mesoamerica
(primarily of maize, the most important cultigen). The event leading to the radical changes
in maize morphology (from wild to domesticated) took place within the last 10,000 years
(pp. 3-4). One hypothesis to account for maize domestication is the ‘Rio Balsas (or
lowland) model’, which holds that ‘maize derived from mutations in annual teosinte (Zea
mays ssp. parviglumis), which grows in the Balsas River drainage in Guerrero, Mexico’ (p.
 161

4). The second hypothesis discussed by MacNeish and Eubanks ‘is the Tehuacan (or
highland) model… [which] argues that maize originated in the highlands of Mesoamerica
as a result of hybridization between two wild relatives of maize’ (p. 4).
MacNeish and Eubanks arrived at the conclusion that ‘the Tehuacan model seems
more plausible than the Rio Balsas model because it has better support from existing
archaeological and biological evidence’ (p. 15). However, rather than imposing one
viewpoint in absolute terms, they suggest a compromise whereby ‘domestication of
lowland tropical plants occurred as a parallel, dichotomous development within a greater
Mesoamerican interaction sphere connecting the highlands and tropics’ (p. 17).
In another arid area of southern Mesoamerica, Kent Flannery (1986a) also studied
the processes that led to the inception of agriculture in Middle America. He excavated a
pre-ceramic occupation in Guilá Naquitz, a cave site in the Valley of Oaxaca. In discussing
the changes in diet through time at Guilá Naquitz, Flannery tells us that ‘during the
Pleistocene period… the climate of central Mexico seems to have been colder and drier
than today’s… temperatures… rose until the mountain valleys of Puebla and Oaxaca had
been taken over by a rich forest of cacti and legume trees, giving way at higher elevations
to oak and pine’ (p. 3). The change to a semi-arid, semi-tropical vegetation may have taken
place as early as 8000 BC. Sometime between this date and the early fifth millennium BC,
the local inhabitants of this region began growing a series of plants, after centuries of
‘living off the land, learning the secrets of the wild vegetation’ (p. 3). These people
followed a strategy for hundreds of years that consisted in ‘moving to the wild resources as
[they] became ripe, dispersing into smaller groups, or coming together in larger ones as the
seasons of abundance permitted’. Finally, people in central Mexico added another strategy:
‘The manipulation of certain edible plants by selection and planting. Three of the most
important of these were squashes (Cucurbita spp.), beans (Phaseolus spp.), and maize (Zea
mays)… These cultivated plants made their first appearance as relatively minor components
of a diet still dominated by wild species, but their importance was to increase with time’ (p.
3).
Flannery (1986b) says that ‘there was a certain stability to the use of food
resources… However, there were some apparent changes through time that may be of
significance… One of the most obvious changes… is the increasing evidence for plant
 162

domestication through time’ (p. 315). This includes ‘changes in the frequencies of five
local wild plants, several of which were among the most common genera in the cave.
Included are three products of the Thorn Forest (acorns, piñon, and susi) and two products
of the Mesquite Grassland (mesquite and hackberry). Seemingly, the use of mesquite pods
increased through time, while the use of acorns, piñon nuts, susi and hackberry declined’
(pp. 315-316).
Flannery’s interpretation of these data holds that ‘the percentage fluctuations we see
have to do with changes in harvesting strategy over time… Moreover, we suspect that as
agriculture developed… the occupants of Guilá Naquitz may have made scheduling
changes in their use of wild plant genera and modified the quantities in which they used
them’ (p. 316). Flannery sees the sequence of plant remains from this site ‘as reflecting
three interrelated processes: (1) a degree of long-term stability and conservatism in the
genera used…; (2) a long-term series of gradual adjustments in the frequencies of plants
used…; and (3) a later series of changes in the “mix” of plants used, which followed a
gradually increasing commitment to agriculture’ (p. 316).
Robert Reynolds (1986) has examined the mechanics of incipient agriculture in the
Valley of Oaxaca and presented a model ‘in which incipient agriculture is viewed as a
process by which (1) the density of certain useful plants was artificially increased and (2)
the location of these… stands within the Guilá Naquitz environment was made more
predictable’ (p. 477). The result was that genetic changes in some of the plants produced
greater yield, until continued experimentation led to the incorporation in the diet of
genetically-modified strains.
This discussion of early communities in Middle America with permanent, year-
round settlement now takes us to Zohapilco, an archaeological site that was once an
Archaic-period hamlet on the shores of Lake Chalco, in the southern end of the Basin of
Mexico. Christine Niederberger (1981) conducted archaeological excavations at the fossil
lacustrine site of Zohapilco in the late 1960s-early 1970s that yielded abundant
paleobotanical and paleozoological remains, as well as evidence of human industries,
which constitute the first testimony of occupations in the area between the sixth and second
millennia BC. Niederberger discusses several hypotheses concerning the processes and
conditions under which sedentary life was established in this region, while also examining
 163

the possibility of a pre-agricultural, sedentary way of life at Zohapilco. In addition, she

attempts to define some significant points in the progressive development and change in the
relationships between humans and plants in the Basin of Mexico from the sixth millennium
onward.
The Zohapilco site is situated at an altitude of more than 2,200 m above sea level in
the temperate highlands of central Mexico. Data from the excavations ‘should contribute to
attempts to review the conventional evolutionary scheme of nomadic hunter-gatherers
becoming sedentary farmers… The new data should help to highlight the diversity of
processes which gradually led to large permanent settlements in post-Pleistocene times’ (p.
78).
Lake Chalco was a body of water that once covered an area of some 110 km2, but
was completely drained at the beginning of the 20th century. The riparian soils in this part
of the basin have preserved numerous archaeological testimonies of pre-Hispanic life, and
archaeological evidence for occupation during the early Holocene and Formative periods is
particularly dense on the fossil lake beaches. The archaeological phase called Playa spans
the period from 6000 to 5300 BC so the Playa phase coincides with an exceptional
flourishing of biota in the southern part of the Basin of Mexico, with a wide variety of
fauna and flora (Figure 41).
Although today the Basin of Mexico is deforested and subject to severe erosion, the
pollen spectrum at Zohapilco (primarily the Playa levels) shows that large areas were once
covered by dense forests in which the following genera predominated: pine (Pinus), oak
(Quercus), alder (Alnus), ash (Fraxinus), walnut (Juglans), liquidambar (Liquidambar),
elm (Ulmus), hackberry (Celtis), and Aceraceae. Also represented in the pollen inventory
are trees from higher ecological niches, such as fir (Abies), or those associated with riparian
soils, like willow (Salix) and poplar (Populus).
The lake shores were the natural habitat of fish-eating birds, and were densely-
covered by many types of plants, including sedges (Cyperaceae), rushes (Juncus), cattails
(Typha), and flowering species (Sparganiaceae). Floating or submerged aquatic plants were
also part of the local botanical inventory (p. 82). In the lake basin, alluvial soils were rich in
humus and characterized by a high water table, so they constituted a favorable environment
for wild cereal clusters like amaranths, chenopodiums and the genus Zea. Niederberger
 164

mentions ‘the remarkable preservation… of abundant plant remains such as grains of

teosinte (a close relative of maize, known as Zea mexicana)’ (p. 82).
Mammal remains recovered from the archaeological excavations at Zohapilco
include white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), rabbit (Sylvilagus cunicularius), the
genus Canis (dog or coyote), Mexican voles (Microtus mexicanus), small rodents
(Heteromyidae), and cotton rats (Sigmodon sp.). The excavators also found numerous bone
remains of fish, belonging to three groups (all of them freshwater): white fish and charales
(Chirostoma), yellow fish (Girardinichthys), and cyprinids (minnows or carp).
Among reptiles, the typical lake turtle of Chalco (Kinosternon sp.) is well-
represented in archaeological contexts, as are over 3,000 small bone remains of the
amphibian Ambystoma, called axolotl by the Aztecs, who savored its eel-flavored flesh.
Playa sediments also contain numerous remains of indigenous lake birds, like the Mexican
duck (Anas diazi), and many migratory bird species that arrive from the north in the winter
including Canada geese (Branta canadensis), numerous species of ducks, like shovelers
(Spatula clypeata), redheads (Aythya americana), pintails (Anas acuta) and mallards (Anas
platyrhynchos), as well as cinnamon teals (Querquedula cyanoptera), pied-billed grebes
(Podilymbus podiceps) and white grebes (Aechmophorus sp.) (p. 83).
In addition to the examples of fauna found in the excavations, Niederberger
discusses ethnohistorical data. Citing the 16th-century author Fray Bernardino de Sahagún,
she mentions ‘some unsuspected food resources from the lakes of the Basin of Mexico
during Aztec times. This list includes algae, fly chrysalises, scarab larvae, and the eggs of
an insect of the Corisidae family –from which a kind of bread was made– which were
collected among the reeds. Sahagún’s account underlines the fact that the archaeological
inventory of permanent or seasonal fauna of the Playa phase, although varied and long, is
by no means exhaustive’ (p. 83). Thanks to the local characteristics of the soils, rainfall and
biotic associations enjoyed by the Playa-phase people between the seventh and fourth
millennia, the southern part of the Basin of Mexico was among the optimal ecological
zones of the Middle-American highlands.
Niederberger’s archaeological research allowed her to present a hypothetical
reconstruction of the ancient ecology at the Zohapilco site, which revealed that three
exploitable biotopes coexisted in the Lake Chalco Basin: (a) the forest environment with its
 165

wild fruits and plentiful fauna; (b) the alluvial and riparian zone with fertile soils and high
water table that favored the growth of wild grasses and other useful plants; and (c) the
aquatic environment, rich in plant and animal resources. These biotic associations are
remarkable for both the presence of abundant regular resources and the predictable
distribution of periodic resources, especially between the rainy and dry seasons. All these
unique characteristics made a sedentary way of life possible well before the development of
a truly efficient agriculture (p. 84).
Niederberger (1976) conducted an intensive study of all archaeological assemblages
derived from her excavations at Zohapilco, noting that ‘the study of the successive lithic
industries found in an archaeological context is aimed at showing the relationships between
a human group and its ecosystem, and the interactions between the technological
achievements and the whole cultural system’ (p. 55). In her excavations at Zohapilco,
Niederberger (1976) found ‘5,115 lithic artifacts, of which 81% were of flaked stone, 15%
of polished stone, and 3% are mixed artifacts (showing both flaked and polished areas)’ (p.
57).
After analyzing all the materials found at the site, Niederberger concluded that ‘the
cultural assemblage defining the Playa 1 and 2 phases is dated at ca. 5500-3500 BC. It is
characterized by remarkable equilibrium and stability. The site reached its maximum biotic
development during this time, and was permanently occupied by communities that
exploited the forest and aquatic resources, both perennial and seasonal’ (p. 278). The
presence of grinding tools suggests the exploitation of several cereal species that were
endemic on riparian and alluvial soils, including the genus Zea. Surprisingly, the existence
of an early inter-regional network of contacts is shown by the direct acquisition or
exchange of raw materials, such as obsidian.
The Zohapilco cultural phase (at the end of the Archaic period, ca. 2500-2000 BC)
pertains to a period of time characterized by changing socioeconomic structures. There is a
marked development of a subsistence economy geared toward the production of
agricultural resources, as seen in the increase in the size and quantity of Zea pollen and the
standardization of grinding tools. The density of the finds of these tools suggests a certain
degree of nucleation in the settlement pattern. Finally, evidence for the modeling and firing
of pottery suggests that the roots of Formative culture began in the Zohapilco phase, while
 166

the following archaeological phase –Ayotla, ca. 1250-1000 BC– reveals a consolidation of
a subsistence economy that relied entirely on agriculture, beginning around ca. 1360 BC (p.
278).
Another example of cultural development in the Archaic period comes to us from
Chantuto, an ancient settlement on the Pacific littoral in the southern state of Chiapas.
Barbara Voorhies (1976) conducted an archaeological investigation of a prehistoric society
that flourished on the Chiapas coast during the third millennium BC. Her project was
conducted from the perspective of prehistoric anthropology, and the main goal was ‘to
reconstruct, insofar as possible, the sociocultural system of the prehistoric society’ (p. 1).
Voorhies’ fieldwork had five major objectives: (1) to determine the comparability of the
aceramic strata at the five sites located in the study area; (2) to ascertain the food
preferences of the ancient inhabitants throughout the annual cycle, and whether they had a
mixed economy (e.g. foraging and fishing); (3) to reconstruct the demographic structure of
the prehistoric Chantuto population; (4) to assess the nature of population mobility in
accordance with the exploited resources; and (5) to study the possible relationships between
the Chantuto people and other cultures in different habitats; for example, through exchange
systems with peoples in the nearby highlands.
One particularly important aspect of Voorhies’ work was her study of the present-
day environment. The study area is located within the geographical region known as
Soconusco (from the Aztec toponym, Xoconochco), a flat, low-lying plain on the Pacific
coast. According to Voorhies, ‘the climax vegetation… is tropical rain forest which gives
way to seasonal forests and savannahs toward the coast… Coastal swamps occur along the
seaward margin of the Soconusco. These swamps… consist of mangrove vegetation
associated with lagoons and tidal channels’ (p. 17). Voorhies focused her archaeological
work on five prehistoric shell middens located on a broad strip of mangrove forest that runs
parallel to the shoreline.
That mangrove-estuarine community was subject to seasonal periodicities. ‘These
cyclic events could have had major effects on the habits of the Chantuto people… There are
many kinds of periodicities within the Chantuto ecosystem, but this discussion is restricted
to seasonal periodicities that directly affect the food supply or the food-chain pattern and
 167

volume of biomass in the zone’ (p. 23). The cyclical patterns of local populations will be
discussed by groups in the following paragraphs.
(1) Reptiles. Turtles and iguanas are two kinds of reptiles collected for food by current
inhabitants. Most of these animals inhabit the zone continuously, but their availability and
use as food are seasonal. There are four distinct types of turtles in the study area, but the
two species preferred by local hunters are locally known as ‘casquito’ (Kinosternon
cruentatum) and ‘tortuga de río’ (Chrysemys grayi). During the laying season (March-
April) the females of Kinosternon move onto well-drained land, and at this time the
residents of La Palma (a village in the study area) burn the nesting sites to uncover the
turtles with their eggs. Other turtle species are also hunted seasonally at different times of
year.
Collecting iguanas is also a seasonal activity. The green iguana (Iguana iguana)
usually inhabits trees or water where its capture is difficult. Its eggs are highly-valued by
humans as food, so this animal is hunted during the laying season (February-May). In
summary, the present-day inhabitants of the Chantuto area collect local reptiles more
frequently during the months of February through April than at other times of the year.
(2) Crustaceans. The seasonal cycles in the life history of shrimp have a profound influence
on village life. Periodically, schools of shrimp enter the estuarine-lagoon system, and the
whole economy of the villagers is closely-tied to this event. This pattern may have its roots
in the ancient past.
(3) Birds. The avifauna of the study area is incredibly varied and abundant. These birds
exhibit many types of seasonal cycles, some of which may be important to humans.
Without doubt, the most striking periodic event is the seasonal presence of migratory
waterfowl (Anseriformes). These birds can have a great impact on a human population
because their seasonal presence can provide a large input of energy. The numbers of
migratory waterfowl in the wintering grounds are remarkably large for approximately six
months of the year, from September to March.
(4) Fish. Seasonal changes presumably occur within fish populations. Though still little
studied, they apparently involve annual shifts of range within the littoral zone.
(5) Clams. In an attempt to understand the ecological and cultural aspects of one of the
main sources of food-procuring activities among the Chantuto people, Voorhies conducted
 168

an ethnoarchaeological study of a clam-processing industry in Costa Rica that relies on

traditional techniques and, therefore, may shed light on ancient clam-gathering and
processing activities on the Chiapas littoral (Voorhies and Martínez-Tagüeña 2016).
The goal of that research was to use observations of activities carried out by contemporary
clam procurers and processors to better comprehend similar practices in the ancient shell-
mounds of coastal Chiapas. Voorhies (1976) reports that the cores of these shell-mounds
consisted overwhelmingly of shells of the marsh clam Polymesoda sp., which were left
behind between 7,500 and 3,500 years ago by the ancient Chantuto people, who were
foragers before becoming farmers, as we have seen. According to Voorhies and Martínez-
Tagüeña (2016), ‘the discovery of a modern analog to the ancient archaeological sites
provides an unparalleled opportunity to test inferences about the past, as well as to
investigate aspects of the clam fishery that are not accessible from the archaeological
record alone’ (p. 2).
Although clam-collecting is a year-round activity, it is scheduled according to the
tides, which are controlled by the lunar cycle. Clams are harvested during spring tides, in
astronomical numbers: approximately 160,000 clams would be collected on one of the
‘good days’ (p. 7). Cooked clam meat lasts only for one day unless salt is added as a
preservative. Only sea salt, obtained by boiling sea water, is used. Nowadays, fishers buy
this salt, but they once produced their own. Of course, sun-drying is another way to
preserve clam meat (p. 14).
Marsh clams in Costa Rica are collected throughout the year with a peak during the
dry season, while archaeological Polymesoda shells from the Tlacuachero shell-mound in
Chiapas indicate that they were harvested only during the wet season, not all year-round as
had been the case earlier. This finding is consistent with the optimal foraging prediction
made by Voorhies and Martínez-Tagüeña (2016:14).
(6) People. The inhabitants of La Palma exhibit a seasonal periodicity in residence location
and patterns of subsistence procurement that is in phase with the presence of young shrimp
in the estuary-lagoon system. Voorhies (1976) reports that ‘shrimp are the single most
important species of the region for the economy… and their yearly arrival in the inland
waters triggers a prompt response by their human predators. At first people shift from
fishing to shrimping, and as the shrimp season progresses the animals become larger and
 169

bring a higher price in the market. Between March and May many villagers, especially the
men, occupy campsites that are close to the shrimp-rich lagoons’ (p. 27).
Voorhies concludes her report by stating that the minimal time of occupation for the
Chantuto shell-mounds was determined on the basis of a series of radiocarbon age
determinations pertaining to the late Archaic period, from 3000 BC to 2000 BC.
Ethnographic analogy suggests that a possible mixed economy would have combined the
gathering of aquatic resources with the cultivation of food plants. Although we lack plant or
pollen remains, the artifact assemblage reported from the region includes indicators of
agriculture, such as the manos (handstones) and metates (querns) found in the Chantuto
phase assemblage (p. 97).
Most resources were procured from the marine estuary and lagoon systems, with the
most important food items being marsh clams, fish and reptiles, while shrimp may also
have contributed significantly to the diet. Some animal bones indicate that food was
procured from the inland region as well, but did not contribute a large proportion of the
diet. In short, the archaeological evidence available for the subsistence pattern of the
Chantuto people indicates an unmixed economy based on the procurement of estuarine
animal resources, as well as terrestrial plant and animal products that were available
through trade networks (p. 98).
The residence pattern of the Chantuto people consisted of periodic and perhaps
seasonal occupations. The huge amount of shell remains in the middens points to a large
volume of clam meat that was procured over a long period of time. It is likely that some
clam and fish meat was exported to inland communities, perhaps after being dried or
preserved with salt.
The simplest way to reconstruct the settlement pattern is based on ethnographic
analogy. At the time of Voorhies’ fieldwork (early 1970s), the littoral zone supported a
population of permanent inhabitants. Most of these people lived in the village of La Palma,
but some resided in isolated homesteads. In addition, the number of inhabitants in the zone
increased dramatically during the shrimp season when mainland villagers would occupy
temporary encampments. In summary, in Voorhies’ reconstruction of the residence pattern
of the Chantuto people, some permanent residents lived within the zone, with periodic
influxes of mainland dwellers that may have occurred on a seasonal basis.
 170

Compared to the examples discussed in the foregoing pages, the archaeological

evidence for hunters and gatherers of the Archaic period is quite scarce in West Mexico.
One of the few pre-ceramic sites excavated in this area is Cueva Los Portales, a cave in the
north of Michoacán where Brigitte Faugère and her associates (2006) found stratigraphic
levels pertaining to the Archaic period. The occupation here seems to have started around
5200 BC. Four chronological phases were identified, the last one at ca. 2000 BC. In each
phase excavators found occupation floors, in some instances with hearths. Abundant lithic
material has been reported, including tools made of obsidian and andesite rock.
Subsistence in the Archaic period at the cave was reconstructed on the basis of
faunal remains, including the following species of mammals: white-tailed deer (Odocoileus
virginianus); turtles (Kinosternon sp.), some rodents like rats (Sigmodon sp.). The bones of
rodents, gophers, hares and mice indicate that they may have also been part of the diet,
although the bones have no evidence of cooking. Birds are less abundant than mammals,
but they show a great variety of species, including quail (Cyrtonyx montezumae); duck
(Anas acuta); coot (Fulica americana); thrush (Fam. Icteridae and Turdidae).
In summary, around the gully where the ancient cave site is located there was a
wide variety of fauna, from local species that came to drink water in the local springs, to
migrant birds that were in residence for part of the year (Faugère 2006).
Mountjoy (2015) says that the few Archaic-period remains that have been found in
West Mexico pertain to roughly half a millennium before the onset of agriculture, which
came about during the Middle Formative (ca. 1200-1000 BC). West Mexico’s coastal area
has revealed few, though significant, traces of human occupation during the earliest
periods. According to Mountjoy (2000), the earliest evidence of human presence in the
southern coast is a campsite at the base of a volcanic hill at the northern end of Matanchén
Bay, Nayarit; the date for this archaeological complex is ca. 2200-1730 BC (p. 83). He also
mentions the excavation of a rock shelter in the Sayula Basin (Jalisco), dated at ca. 3660
BC, as well as ‘atlatl points [sic] of Archaic type found on the surface in that region’ (p. 1).
There are a handful of sites on the coastal plain of West Mexico where Archaic artifacts
have been found: Ixtapa, near Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, a shell midden in San Blas, Nayarit,
and two sites in Sinaloa with dates ranging from ca. 2000 to 1750 BC, one of them with
‘lithic artifacts of hunter-gatherers’ (2015:1-2).
 171

One of the major finds pertaining to the Archaic period in Jalisco was described by
Karen Hardy (1994), who studied a collection of stone projectile points found in the Lake
Zacoalco-Sayula area (Figure 42). Hardy says that up to her study (late 1980s), this was the
only evidence of pre-ceramic sites in West Mexico. The Zacoalco-Sayula lakes are
seasonal; that is, they expand during the rainy season and contract or disappear in the dry
season. We have seen that thousands of animal bones have been found there, with an
antiquity that goes back to the Pleistocene period. Archaeologists have also found stone
tools, including early spear or projectile points (see above). These finds indicate a human
presence as early as 12,000-10,000 BP. Among the fossilized animal remains found there,
horse, jaguar, mastodon, mammoth, camel, antelope and bison have been identified, as well
as many species that still inhabit the region (p. 124).
Hardy (1994) made a study of 337 projectile points made of basalt (out of a total
collection of 520 artifacts). These points were classified into eight different types, and
Hardy concluded that these artifacts, dating from the onset of the Archaic period (ca. 8000-
5000 BP), are the only indication that this area was occupied during this remote epoch.
Another example of Archaic cultural development in West Mexico is located in the
Marismas Nacionales area of coastal Nayarit and Sinaloa, a tropical mangrove forest where
human communities thrived from the Archaic to the Postclassic periods. We saw briefly in
Chapter II that Stuart Scott (1974) and his associates conducted a long-term
multidisciplinary archaeological project in this area. Fieldwork associated with the
Marismas Nacionales Multidisciplinary Research Program, sponsored by the State
University of New York, lasted from 1968 to 1978, but the final report did not appear until
40 years later (Foster [editor] 2017). Scott and Foster (2000) explain how they used data
from soil stratigraphy, mangrove ecology, pollen and faunal analyses, archaeology,
ethnohistory, human osteology, and burial practices to provide an objective view of the
natural and cultural landscape of Marismas Nacionales, examine the record of human
activity there, and study the cultural implications of long-term adaptation to this particular
ecological setting.
According to Foster and Scott (2017a), the oldest archaeological manifestation
identified to date in the area under discussion is a large shell mound called El Calón
(Figure 43), the only Marismas site assigned to the Archaic period (the Costanero period,
 172

see below). The shell mound is near the northwest edge of Laguna de Agua Grande and is
constructed primarily of accumulations of the marine mollusk Anadara grandis (p. 61). The
argument for the antiquity of the El Calón mound is further supported by its location.
Foster and Scott discuss the long-term mechanisms of successive beach ridge formation,
sea level change, and transgressive shorelines, which in their opinion demonstrate the early
date of this large man-made formation. These authors hypothesized that at the time of its
construction, El Calón was on, or very near, the shoreline of the Pacific Ocean, noting that
‘in the past 3,000 to 3,500 years the shoreline has advanced seaward by deposition of a vast
sheet-like accumulation of littoral sands… Today, the El Calón structure is located some 15
km east of the current ocean shoreline and is embedded in a dense forest canopy of red
mangrove and black mangrove’ (p. 62).
Foster and Scott went on to explain that while attempting to assign a precise date to
the El Calón feature they faced ‘numerous investigative and interpretive challenges. One of
the remarkable attributes of this enormous and exceptional structure is that the majority of
mollusks used as constructive material are mostly still articulated. For some, this is
evidence that the shell was mined from fossil shell beds and that the age of the mound is
likely far more recent than suggested here’ (p. 63).
Foster and Scott contend that ‘based on the C-14 estimates and the relation between
the mound and past and present shorelines… this enigmatic site is a Late Archaic and
perhaps an Early Preclassic period cultural manifestation, with the initial formation of the
mound occurring between 2600/2400 and 2200/1900 BC’ (p. 63). If so, this would be one
of the earliest sites in West Mexico, an invaluable addition to our scarce knowledge about
the Archaic period in this area of Middle America. The prehistoric occupation of Marismas
Nacionales has been divided into three broad archaeological periods: the earliest is the
Costanero, which is somewhat arbitrarily defined between ca. 3000 BC and AD 300. 8 We
know little about this early period of human presence in the Marismas area, apart from the
existence of the El Calón mound, whose placement within the Costanero period is based on
a total of five C-14 assays on shell remains (p. 67).

8
According to Voorhies (2018: 415), the dates for the Costanero phase are based solely on radiocarbon assays, all of which were run on
shell samples. These dates present a series of technical and other problems for the general chronology of Marismas Nacionales. The dates
for the other phases are less troublesome because they are based on cross-dating, mainly with the cultural sequences at Chametla and
Amapa (Nayarit), as well as on radiocarbon dates.
 173

Foster and Scott (2017b) ask the question: ‘What is El Calón?’, and then respond
that ‘it is not… a coastal accumulation of storm-deposited shells, nor was it formed by
other natural geomorphological process. It is a massive, human-engineered mound
constructed primarily of the marine mollusk Anadara grandis… [It] appears to represent an
example of platform architecture in the rough form of a truncated pyramid, measuring
approximately 80 by 100 m at its ovoid base’ (p. 73). The mound’s summit is some 23 m
high. Foster and Scott assume that El Calón was indeed a purposeful construction, but they
admit that they do not know ‘what motivated its builders to collect the immense amount of
marine shell to create this feature on the landscape. Clearly… it is not midden- or
habitation-related’, but a structure of this type, if found in Veracruz or Guerrero, would
probably be interpreted as a form ‘of religious or corporate architecture’ (p. 74).
Foster and Scott add the following information: ‘Recent investigations of El Calón
have yielded additional insight into the function of the structure… [including] a very
limited amount of small lithic debitage… El Calón is not a shell midden like those found on
the adjacent coastal plain that contain quantities of marine shell as well as cultural debris
and other types of faunal remains’ (pp. 75-76). Among the artifacts recovered there, the
authors mention ‘six grinding slabs or metates, three manos, 26 green obsidian flakes… a
partial greenstone ax [and] three small stones that appear to represent phalluses… two
figurines, one complete and the other fragmentary, were recovered. The complete specimen
was… an anthropomorphic figure’ (p. 78). They interpreted the ‘associations of figurines as
apparent votive offerings left on or buried in El Calón. When the figurines… are considered
with the… stone phalluses… the ritualistic or spiritual function of El Calón… becomes
more apparent’. In conclusion, ‘El Calón served as a temple where ceremonies were
conducted related to fertility, with propitiatory rites to favor good fishing. There is, then,
mounting evidence of El Calón’s purpose as a place for supplicatory or expiatory rites’ (p.
79), probably during the early Formative period.
The excavations at El Calón also unearthed ‘abundant amounts of shellfish remains
as well as aquatic and terrestrial animal remains. These same deposits also produced
ground-stone implements such as manos and metates, which provide indirect evidence of
agriculture’ (p. 141). During the Formative period, inhabitants of Marismas subsisted on a
diet of corn, beans, squash and other cultigens, supplemented by shellfish, fish, wild game
 174

and birds, as well as wild plant foods. Most of these resources were concentrated on the
estuary and adjacent coastal plain, while the Sierra Madre foothills were also exploited for
food, minerals and other resources.
In his discussion of the artifacts found during the excavations at Marismas
Nacionales, Foster (2017a: 220) mentions the following items: (1) one possible net sinker, a
modified potsherd made from a ceramic vessel with an orange paste and dark core, with a
figure-8 shape and two notches near one end; (2) several blades and flakes, most of them of
obsidian, while some quartz and granite flakes and debris were also present. The most
abundant type of flaked-stone artifact was the blade, almost all of which show some signs
of use or some form of edge damage, though only a few bear signs of retouching; (3) a
lithic assemblage that includes projectile points and bifaces. Ten projectile point fragments
were recovered, while one nearly complete item (perhaps a spear point?) is 8.6 cm long. All
are made of obsidian and exhibit bifacial flaking. About half of the fragments seem to be
from stemmed points; (4) grinding implements that were used for food preparation, such as
the 12 mano (handstone) fragments that were probably used on straight-sided slab-style
metates. Five metate fragments were also recovered; all are small and seem to be from the
central part of the grinding slabs; (5) the final item from the stone-tool assemblage, a pestle,
is similar to two small items made of vesicular basalt, semi-rectangular in shape with
rounded edges, both of which measured 6.5 cm long; and (6) several items made of bone
that belong to the tool inventory: one may be a pendant made from a dog phalange, while
another is a pendant made from a dog’s astragalus; both were drilled so they could be hung.
The third worked bone specimen is a musical rasp carved from the jawbone of a caiman
(Crocodilus acutus) (p. 222).
In discussing the ancient diet and subsistence patterns in Marismas Nacionales,
Foster (2017b) points out that this was a rich environment in terms of natural resources.
Arable land was extensive, and there was a broad variety of terrestrial and aquatic plant and
animal species in the broad mangrove-estuarine system. The subsistence potential of the
area was further enhanced by the fact that it is an ecotone; that is, a transitional zone or
environment located between two diverse environments, like the piedmont and western
flank of the Sierra Madre Occidental and the coastal zone of the Pacific Ocean. We usually
 175

find a greater diversity of species in ecotones than in either one of the adjoining
environmental areas.
Foster and his associates were able to recover, or document, a great variety of faunal
specimens representing prehistoric dietary remains. According to Foster (2017b), the most
frequently observed and most abundant faunal remains were mollusks. Many shell middens
dot the landscape, and scatters of shell representing food remains were a common find
throughout the habitation areas examined. The total number of faunal specimens identified
by the project was 5,039, not counting mollusk remains.
Additionally, the information on dietary and subsistence patterns may be enhanced
from the artifact assemblages recovered, particularly the tools made of ground or flaked
stone that appear to be associated with food procurement and processing. The grinding
implements, for instance, suggest the processing of plant foods, both cultigens and wild
species, while the presence of projectile points may be indicative of hunting.
Among the mollusks that were gathered for food, several species of Tivela and
oysters appear to have been favored, though numerous other taxa are represented. Tivela
inhabit the intertidal beach area, while oysters are at home in the estuary; thus their
presence may indicate the exploitation of both the beach/ocean and estuary biotopes. Foster
suggests that ‘mollusks were probably collected by hand, possibly by task groups
consisting of females and children’ (p. 262).
Ethnographic information on shell-gatherers could shed light on the issue of
mollusk acquisition and processing among Marismas fishers and gatherers. For instance,
the work by Douglas Bird and Rebecca Bliege Bird (1997) among the Meriam, an ethnic
group of the eastern Torres Strait in tropical northeastern Australia, has shown that
‘intertidal gathering, primarily of shellfish… [is] an important part of Meriam
subsistence…’ (p. 41). These authors ‘sampled the shell accumulations of six households
and compared these data with observed dietary contribution of shellfish… [in] six randomly
selected households’. This was done ‘in order to test the assumption that the relative dietary
importance of shellfish types in the Meriam diet can be inferred from the types and
amounts of shellfish that are deposited at a residential site’ (p. 43). They found that ‘in
general, the Meriam cull shell material prior to transport in a manner that maximizes the
rate at which they deliver edible flesh to a central locale… archaeologists should expect
 176

substantial variability in shellfish assemblage composition as a result of differential

transport of shell material’ (p. 52). This ethnographic information, though geographically
far removed from Mexico, could be used as an aid in formulating a middle-range theory to
explain behavior patterns and subsistence practices among early fishers and gatherers in
West Mexico.
Foster (2017b) ends his discussion of subsistence patterns by stating that ‘in
addition to mollusks, the archaeofaunal assemblages recovered include a variety of crab,
fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, rabbits, deer and perhaps dogs that were eaten. Fishing was
done primarily in the estuary and lagoons rather than in the open sea. Fish and marine
mammals could have been speared, trapped or netted. The largest animal represented is
deer, but it does not appear to have been common in the area’ (p. 263).
One ethnographic analogue that has proven useful for interpreting material culture
in aquatic settings is that of the Seri Indians of Sonora, in northern Mexico. An
ethnoarchaeological study conducted by Robert Ascher (1962) found that ‘the Seri are
primarily fishermen; secondarily they gather the fruits of succulents; and to a still lesser
extent they hunt game… maritime resources provided 2/3 of the Seri diet… in the winter of
1960… the Seri were obtaining at least 3/5 of their food from the sea’ (p. 261). While Seri
women and children gathered mollusks, fishing was a male occupation. Ascher reports that
‘the Pacific green turtle constitutes the largest single item in the Seri diet for at least six
months of the year –from January to June– and it is also caught occasionally in other
seasons… [turtles] provided 25% of the total food supply (in 1896)… Seri men fish for
turtle from boats… the principal implement is the harpoon’ (p. 362).
William John McGee (1853-1912) left us what could be the most complete account
of the traditional Seri way of life. McGee was a self-taught ethnologist and polymath
affiliated with the Bureau of American Ethnology at the end of the 19th century. He made a
short visit to the territory of the Seri Indians in Sonora, Mexico, in December 1894, but the
result of this fieldwork is an exhaustive ethnographic study of the Seri ethnic group. For the
purposes of the present study, however, we are primarily interested in the patterns of
subsistence and ecological adaptation, especially the material culture of those Indians.
McGee (1980) tells us that the Seri did not practice agriculture, though they ate
certain wild fruits and seeds. They also lacked domesticated animals, so their productive
 177

activities were quite basic and limited to: (1) subsistence, mainly hunting and fishing; (2)
sailing and transportation; (3) construction of dwellings; (4) dressmaking; (5) manufacture
of simple tools and artifacts; and (6) almost constant warfare (p. 305).
As mentioned above, the local green turtle (Chelonia mydas) was the most
important food item for the Seri, as it abounded in the Gulf of California. Turtle meat
provided nourishment, while some of its bones could be used as tools, and the carapace was
used to cover the roof of the typical Seri dwelling, as a convenient substitute for the
umbrella, as a tent or improvised shield and, finally, as a tray or pot (p. 315). Seri hunters
used the bow and arrow for large-game hunting on dry land, but bows were used primarily
in warfare (p. 322).
McGee thought that aquatic birds probably constituted the second most important
resource for the Seri, after the turtle. Among the birds hunted by these people, the pelican
was without doubt the number one prey. Pelicans were used as food and as the main
material for making garments (p. 320). No complex culinary practices were observed in
relation to water fowl, and the tool usually employed in skinning and cutting ligaments was
a bowl-shaped seashell, which was used for many other tasks as well.
After turtles and birds, McGee mentions fish and other forms of marine wildlife as
important components of Seri diet. The territory inhabited by the Seri was close to the
ocean and other bodies of water, where they found a diverse and abundant range of fish –
including sharks and rays– as well as cetaceans, seals and other species.
According to McGee, mollusks and crustaceans were closely-linked to fish as a food
source and, in general, all kinds of ‘seafood’ made a considerable contribution to the
group’s subsistence. Apparently the most important item in this food category was the clam
from the Pacific Ocean, which was abundant in the extensive mud flats and lagoons along
the coast, an important ecological niche in the land of the Seri Indians (p. 327).
Many tools used by the Seri in their various subsistence activities were made of
modified seashells. The most widely-used genera were Cardium, Mactra, Arca and Chama,
though many others appear. The shells were commonly utilized for the following purposes:
as drinking vessels, dishes, bowls or ladles, containers for animal fat or tallow, face paint,
or as small tools for cutting and scraping skins, for cutting animal ligaments and plant
tissue, as well as for digging graves and pits, for propulsion in rafts and boats, and
 178

especially for cutting and scraping reeds, sticks and plant stems. The list of activities
performed with the aid of shell tools presented by McGee goes on to include the
manufacture of arrows, harpoons, bows, rafts and the frames of huts and shacks. McGee
ends his account with the following statement: ‘In general, seashells are the ever-present
companion and helper of the Seri Indian’ (p. 381).
After shells, modified stones were the most abundant artifacts and tools of the Seri
Indians. McGee mentions that pebbles were picked up from beaches and used to break or
crush shells and bones, to skin large game animals, to cut tendons and shatter or splinter
bones, to grind or pulverize seeds, to dig up reeds, to cut down trees and branches, and to
drive stakes into the ground, among other activities. The Seri stone tool assemblage
included a wide range of objects, from the aforementioned pebbles (Figure 44) to
cobblestones (Figure 45), and there was a series of different tasks that used hand-size tools
(pebbles) on one end, and larger, heavier anvils (Figure 46) and querns (Figure 47) on the
other (p. 382). McGee ends his discussion of stone tools by pointing out that ‘there is a
well-defined clustering of stone tools in two types, a large-size class of fixed objects, and
another one of smaller and more portable objects’ (p. 383).
Final Remarks
As we have seen, the first inhabitants of the New World, called Paleoindians for lack of a
better word, lived a life dominated by the pursuit of food, relying primarily on hunting,
fishing and gathering wild plants. Eventually, the large game species of the Pleistocene
became extinct, and during the advent of the Holocene period (some 12,000 years ago)
humans adapted to new environmental conditions. This new way of life led to a transitional
period called the Archaic, which has been defined as the time during which people were
able to encourage the growth of numerous useful plants, culminating eventually in food
production and, eventually, agriculture. No less important during this phase of prehistory
was ‘the decreasing residential mobility, until permanent villages appeared by the
beginning of the Formative period’ (Voorhies 2012:342). The establishment of a sedentary
way of life marked the end of the Archaic, but this was a long process that involved more
than just one single event; hence the dates assigned to this transitional period range from
ca. 1800 BC to as late as 800-900 BC, depending on the part of Mesoamerica one is dealing
with (p. 342). Voorhies wrote that: ‘In general, the Archaic was a time of profound social
 179

change, involving transformations not only in subsistence but also in every aspect of social
life’ (p. 342).
In at least three of the examples of Archaic cultural development cited in this
chapter (Zohapilco, Chantuto and Marismas Nacionales), earlier subsistence strategies
developed into a way of life that was adapted to an aquatic environment characterized by
four sets of activities: fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture. Some aspects of this
lifeway would persist until the end of the pre-Hispanic sequence in Mesoamerica and, in
some cases, right up to the present. Ethnographic information has been used to reconstruct
the aquatic lifeway in several areas of West Mexico and elsewhere in the Mesoamerican
ecumene (Williams 2009a, 2014a, 2014b, 2014c).
In his discussion of the rise of complex societies, MacNeish (1981) has stated that in
‘the New World… only two culture areas, Mesoamerica and the Andean area, developed
pristine national states… relevant areas in other parts of the world would be the Near East
and perhaps the Far East… All of these areas had a number of general characteristics in
common that might be considered necessary conditions… for an agricultural village way of
life’ (p. 129) that had a basis on an ‘Archaic’ type of culture, as described in this chapter.
MacNeish (pp. 129-130) mentions the following common features: first, ‘in each area there
were a number of plants and animals that, due to their genetic makeup, were susceptible to
domestication and could be the basis of a successful, surplus food-producing economy;
each area had as well, other natural resources, such as salt, obsidian, metals, flint, and
gems, which allowed for technological expansion’ (p. 129). Second, ‘all the developments
occurred in warm temperate to tropical climatic zones’, and ‘across all these nuclear areas
there had been only one major environmental change preceding our final cultural
development; this occurred at the end of the Pleistocene, when the overall biomass was
greatly reduced and the ecozones shifted and expanded in number’. (p. 129). Third,
different ecological zones in ‘each region or subarea within each of the nuclear areas
differed seasonally one from the other, so that certain foods had to be obtained in different
microenvironments during different seasons’ (p. 129). MacNeish also wrote that ‘not only
did the ecozones of a single subarea have features that allow for beneficial exploitation but
also the subareas had different resources that if exploited would benefit not only the
subarea in which they occurred but also all subareas with which they interacted; these
 180

interdependencies thereby lead to an areal cultural symbiosis’ (p. 130). Another point
stressed by MacNeish is that ‘the microzones or subareas had easy communication with
each other, thus allowing the subareas or zones to form a similar interaction sphere
throughout all the periods under consideration here (p. 130). And, finally, MacNeish
proposed that ‘the subareas within the major areas where pristine national states
developed’ can be grouped into two dichotomous types: ‘A highland zone with few
wild foods readily available and with a tendency for microenvironments to be stratified
with regard to elevation. Gradually these microenvironments merged by a series of
transitional subareas into the second dichotomous type, the lowland zone, which in
terms of food resources was lusher or richer than the highland zone’ (p. 130). The
microenvironments of the latter zone ‘were arranged so that one had to exploit them in
a radial manner’ (p. 130).
The observations made by MacNeish above are derived from his research in arid
regions such as the Tehuacan Valley, but they may also be broadly applied to other regions
of Mesoamerica, including West Mexico.
As we have seen in the foregoing pages, by studying ethnic groups such as the Seri
and others that were adapted to a way of life reminiscent of the Archaic period, in which
people relied on fishing, hunting and gathering (see Williams 2014a for a discussion),
archaeologists can better understand the material culture and cultural processes of pre-
agricultural societies. At the same time, ethnographic analogy allows us to propose
explanations based on a middle-range theory (Binford 1983), or construct ‘bridging
arguments’ (Wylie 2002) to comprehend the relationship between the systemic context
(current human behavior) and the archaeological context (ancient material culture) derived
from human activities (see Williams 2017: Chapter II for a discussion). The aim of
ethnographic analogy is to produce a theoretical reconstruction of subsistence activities in
antiquity and propose explanations of the nature of the assemblages that were used to
optimize the natural resources available in the environment.
Lewis Binford (1968) has stated that ‘the task of the archaeologist and the
anthropologist [is] the explanation and explication of cultural differences and similarities.
Ethnologists may… explicate certain cultural forms, not directly observable in the
archaeological record’, while archaeologists ‘may explicate forms of cultural phenomena
 181

not generally discussed by the ethnologist… particularly those [phenomena] of a processual

nature covering considerable periods of time’ (p. 268). We need more ethnographic and
ethnohistorical data to make cultural interpretations of the archaeological record, as we
have seen in the case of the Seri Indians, and other examples that will be discussed
throughout this book.
In Archaic times, Mesoamerica as we have defined it in Chapter I had yet to be
born, but as the Archaic way of life slowly gave way to an agricultural economy in the
Formative period, the seeds of Mesoamerican civilization were sown. Blake et al. (1992)
point out that, although ‘sedentism did not always require agricultural food production
and… early agriculturalists were not always sedentary… it is widely held that maize
cultivation was a key element in the subsistence system of ancient Mesoamericans from
early Formative times onward’ (p. 83). Agriculture would become the basis of culture and
social complexity, a historical reality that is still with us today. In the next chapter we will
review the archaeological evidence for this process and its consequences in West Mexico
and other areas of the Mesoamerican ecumene.
 182

Figure 34. West Mexico spans several physiographic settings, including a good number of diverse ecological
niches. This accounts for the wide variety of cultural manifestations in the area (map by Eduardo Williams).
 183

Figure 35. Partial map of West Mexico, showing the area covered by lake basins during the 16th century
(adapted from Tamayo and West 1964: Fig. 4).

Figure 36. The Lake Pátzcuaro Basin is one of the most important regions for our historical reconstruction of
ancient culture in West Mexico, since it was the former seat of the Tarascan Empire. This map shows the
extent of the lake in the Protohistoric period (adapted from Gorenstein and Pollard 1983: Map 2).
 184

Figure 37. Lake Cuitzeo was one of the largest bodies of water in West Mexico, but its volume has been
greatly diminished in recent times. This lake basin is rich in natural resources such as obsidian, salt, saltpeter,
and lime, as well as reeds, rushes, and aquatic wildlife (map by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 38a. The hunters of the Paleoindian period had a highly efficient stone tool assemblage, including
fluted projectile points like the ones found in Mexico and Central America: (a) San Rafael, Guatemala; (b)
Sonora; (c) Nuevo León; (d) Costa Rica; (e) Sonora; (f) Chihuahua; (g) Durango; (h) Baja California; and (i)
Coahuila (adapted from Aveleyra1964: Figure 3).
 185

Figure 38b. Projectile points of the Clovis and Folsom types found in the US Southwest, showing how they
were hafted (adapted from Plog 1997: Figures 30 and 31).

Figure 39. In the Archaic period hunters pursued primarily smaller species, using snares made of cordage of
yucca and other plant fibers (adapted from Plog 1997: Figure 37).
 186

Figure 40. Changing trends in the importance of the principal sources of food in the Tehuacan Valley
archaeological sequence, from Paleoindian to Conquest times (adapted from MacNeish 1967: Figure 186).

Figure 41. Lake Chalco once covered an area of some 110 km2 in the southeastern depression of the Basin of
Mexico. The archaeological phase called Playa (ca. 6000-5300 BC) coincides with an exceptional flourishing
 187

of the biota in the southern part of the Basin of Mexico, as shown in this artwork by Christine Niederberger
(adapted from Niederberger 1987: Figure on cover).

Figure 42. These stone projectile points found in the Lake Zacoalco-Sayula area constitute a clear evidence of
pre-ceramic occupation in this part of West Mexico (after Hardy 1994).
 188

Figure 43. The oldest archaeological manifestation identified to date in the Marismas Nacionales area of
coastal Nayarit is a large shell mound called El Calón, which may pertain to the late Archaic period (adapted
from Foster and Scott 2017a: Figure 5.2).

Figure 44. Pebbles were used by the Seri Indians of Sonora, Northern Mexico, to break or crush shells and
bones, to skin large game animals, to cut tendons and shatter or splinter bones, to grind or pulverize seeds, to
dig up reeds, to cut down trees and branches, and to drive stakes into the ground, among other activities. Left:
side view; right: front view (after McGee 1980: Plate XLIII).
 189

Figure 45. Cobblestones were used as tools by the Seri Indians, usually with hardly any modification. Some
stones were still in use when McGee collected them in the field (in the late 19th century). Wear patterns may
suggest the function of similar artifacts in an archaeological context. Front, side and back views of the same
object (after McGee 1980: Plate XLVII).

Figure 46. This stone functioned as an anvil to process or pulverize substances such as minerals and pigments;
(a) front, (b) side (after McGee 1980: Plates XXXIV and XXXV).
 190

Figure 47. Stone querns like this one were used by the Seris to grind plant material such as wild seeds used as
food (after McGee 1980: Plate XXXIX).
 191

CHAPTER IV
THE FORMATIVE PERIOD (ca. 1500 BC-AD 300)

During the Formative period, the Mesoamerican ecumene underwent a process of

crystallization based on ‘a set of distinctive traits and behavioral patterns. At the start of
the Formative we find small autonomous agricultural villages… established in certain
key regions’ of central and southern Mesoamerica (Evans 2004a). ‘Around 1500 BC a
transformation begins, moving… away from the egalitarian ethic of autonomous tribal
villagers. By AD 300, all Mesoamericans lived in societies based on differential ranking
of individuals and whole groups… under political formats of chiefdoms… where the
few ruled over the many, and extracted goods and services from them’ (p. 99).
In this chapter, I discuss West Mexican cultural development during Formative
times. First, I present a short synopsis of the major cultural-historical processes in the
Mesoamerican ecumene in this period, so the reader will understand the broader cultural
and historical context in which this stage of our story takes place.

The Mesoamerican Ecumene during the Formative Period

Throughout the Formative period, the forces of cultural evolution ‘created complex
societies with mature artistic expressions of power and wealth’, with a rich iconography
that included ‘symbols related to a well-developed belief system… [which] anchored
the society with its natural environment by spiritualizing the landscape and weather,
while time was transcended by ancestor veneration’ (p. 100).
The Olmecs were the earliest Mesoamerican culture to construct visually-
impressive ceremonial centers that gave expression to some important features of
complex society. At large Olmec sites (and also in later periods), we see ‘a considerable
investment of labor and materials, in the service of a grand design… Olmec art depicts
individuals who would have led the elite, commanding the lives of workers and the
crops of farmers’ (p. 100).
Richard Diehl (2004) addresses the role of the Olmecs in the context of the early
Mesoamerican ecumene by stating that ‘pristine civilizations were the earliest
civilizations in their respective regions, cultures that developed… without any older
models to guide their development’ (p. 12). Here, the author includes the Egyptians of
the Nile Valley, the Sumerians of Mesopotamia, the Indus civilization in present-day
India and Pakistan, the Shang culture in China, the Chavín culture of the Andes, and the
 192

Olmecs of Mesoamerica. Diehl states that the fact that the Olmecs were the only one of
these complex cultures ‘that evolved in a lowland tropical forest environment makes
them an important case study in the evolution of civilization’. The Olmecs are best
known among early New World cultures for their artistic achievements, ‘particularly
their spectacular large stone monuments and exquisite small objects carved from jadeite
and other semi-precious stones… Olmecs were the first Native Americans to erect large
architectural complexes, live in nucleated towns and cities, and develop a sophisticated
art style executed in stone and other imperishable media’ (p. 12).
Michael D. Coe, one of the pioneers and leading authors on the Olmecs,
discussed the spread of Olmec culture across Mesoamerica. He (1984) stated that ‘the
Olmec were by no means a peaceful people… Whether the indubitable Olmec presence
in highland Mexico represents actual invasion from the heartland is still under debate.
The Olmec… certainly needed substances, often of a prestigious nature, which were
unobtainable in their homeland –obsidian, iron-ore for mirrors, serpentine, and… jade–
and they probably set up trade networks over much of [Mesoamerica] to get these items’
(p. 78). Another aspect of Olmec expansion has to do with the spread of an original and
unique art style. The presence of ‘iconography based on the Olmec pantheon over a
wide area of Mesoamerica suggests the possibility of missionary efforts on the part of
the heartland Olmec’ (p. 78).
In the central highlands of Mexico, the ‘Olmec problem’ –that is, the reason, or
reasons, for their presence so far from their homeland– has been difficult to resolve
because of the many obstacles that limit our understanding of the nature of the role that
the Olmecs played in this part of Mesoamerica (Serra 1994). These hindrances begin,
obviously, with the lack of information derived from archaeological excavation, and the
dearth of objects found in early contexts. Despite these difficulties, however, recent
decades have brought considerable advances in our understanding of the ‘Olmec
phenomenon’. In the early 1940s, excavations at the highland site of Tlatilco found a
substantial Olmec presence in funerary contexts. Those finds generated several theories
that attempted to understand the nature of the relationships among the Olmec heartland
on the Gulf coast, the Basin of Mexico, and the central highlands in general. The
explanations that were put forward included military conquest, commercial exchange,
religious proselytism, colonization, and elites in the process of evolution, among others
(p. 175). Coe (1984a) wrote the following about Tlatilco: ‘Settled by about 1200 BC,
Tlatilco was a very large village (or small town) sprawling over about 65 hectares… it
 193

was not very far removed from the lakeshore where fishing and the snaring of birds
could be pursued. In the Tlatilco refuse are the bones of deer and waterfowl, while
represented in the potter’s art are armadillo, opossum, wild turkey, bears, frogs, rabbits,
fish, ducks and turtles’ (pp. 48-49). Among the features that make Tlatilco a unique site
is a highly-developed funerary tradition, represented by ‘no less than 340 burials… but
there must have been many hundreds more… All these were extended skeletons
accompanied by the most lavish offerings, especially by figurines which only rarely
appear as burial furniture in Formative Mexico’ (p. 49). Coe went on to mention
‘another curious element in the burial offerings of Tlatilco, namely, the very distinct
presence of a strange art style known to have originated at the same time in the swampy
jungles of the Gulf Coast. This style, called “Olmec”… often combined the lineaments
of a snarling jaguar with that of a baby [and] is unmistakably apparent in many of the
figurines and in much of the pottery… It is… likely that these villagers were a favorably
placed people under heavy influence from “missionaries” spreading the Olmec faith’ (p.
42). In addition to Tlatilco, a strong Olmec presence has been documented in many
other areas within the central Mexican highlands, especially in the modern states of
Mexico, Tlaxcala, Puebla and in Mexico City itself (Bernal 1969:123).
Beyond the Basin of Mexico, the Olmecs left a lasting mark in other highland
regions, such as the modern state of Morelos. David Grove’s (1984) work at the
Chalcatzingo site ‘recovered data that could be used to illuminate certain aspects of
heartland Olmec culture’ such as ‘the belief system. The numerous… portrait figurines,
typical of Chalcatzingo… I believe… to be Gulf coast inspired. The presence of chiefly
portraits in both monuments and figurines implies a cult of the ruler transplanted into
Chalcatzingo’ (p. 157). Monuments there include rock reliefs, which are ‘the first
evidence of carved-stone art in central Mexico. Chalcatzingo’s carvings are Gulf coast
Olmec in general style, but differ in the way they communicate their ideas’. Grove has
called this the ‘frontier art style, one which could only have been executed by persons
with an intimate understanding of the heartland [Olmec] style’ (p. 158). Although
‘Chalcatzingo was not established as a highland colony by peoples from the Gulf coast’
(p. 160), the Amatzinac valley where the site is located is relatively rich in natural
geological resources. The hills around the site contain iron ores that were important for
making mirrors used in rituals. An important deposit of kaolin clay is found near
Chalcatzingo; this clay was used ‘to create the surface color of Middle-Formative white
pottery, and to whitewash the clay exteriors of houses’ (p. 161). Chalcatzingo occupied
 194

a strategic location, and this meant that ‘its people could serve as intermediaries for the
goods from one area of the valley which made their way to other local villages… The
redistributive role of the village soon encompassed materials from beyond the valley’s
borders. Obsidian… came… from sources to the northeast of the Basin of Mexico.
Greenstone from the mountains of Guerrero, shell from distant oceans, and pottery
typical or areas to the southeast, all moved into Chalcatzingo and out again to local
settlements’ (pp. 161-162).
The Olmecs in the Gulf coast heartland did not have local access to many
geological resources that were abundant in the highlands. Because of ‘the rapidly
evolving cultural complexity of the heartland, the rulers and elite came increasingly to
depend on a variety of objects, made of imported raw materials, to communicate their
status and power… Stone for monuments… serpentine blocks… greenstone, jade, iron
ore, mirrors, and other status exotics arrived by long-distance acquisition networks.
Even obsidian and stone for maize-processing tools were imported’ (p. 162).
Chalcatzingo’s preeminence as a point of cultural contact is explained by its location ‘at
the southeast edge of a closely knit cultural sphere which had existed in the Basin of
Mexico-Morelos area since about 1300 BC. As a redistribution center located beside a
cultural boundary it could serve not only its own region, but also centers across the
boundary to the east’. In conclusion, according to Grove, Chalcatzingo ‘was… situated
at the geographic and cultural gateway between a large area of highland central Mexico
and the route to the Olmec heartland’. Taking advantage of this unique location, ‘the
elite… presumably directed the acquisition and dispersal of the various materials’
mentioned above (p. 163).
We do not yet have a clear understanding of the social or cultural dynamics that
accounted for the Olmec presence in Chalcatzingo and other highland centers beyond
the Olmec heartland. Susan Gillespie, however, has proposed a hypothetical
reconstruction of the cultural processes that could account for the implementation of
Olmec outposts such as Chalcatzingo. Gillespie’s model is based on Lévi-Strauss’
concept of ‘house societies’, and her study (2000) ‘reveals some of the shortcomings of
the traditional approach to kinship that privileges descent principles in the division of
society into… lineages’. Gillespie follows ‘a different approach to social groupings
utilizing the “house” construct… Houses are corporate, long-lived units that are
organized for specific ends. House members strategically utilize relationships of
 195

consanguinity and affinity, real and fictive, in order to legitimate expressions of unity
and perpetuity’ (p. 468).
In her interpretation of Formative cultural processes and social organization at
Chalcatzingo, Gillespie (2009) has used the house society model in a very profitable
way, arguing that ‘in Mesoamerican archaeology, the house-society model has usually
been applied to state societies of the Classic and Postclassic, especially… in the Maya
area… but there is a great potential for using this model in the study of the origin of
complex societies in the Formative period’ (p. 399). Gillespie analyzes two features of
Chalcatzingo’s cultural history: ‘The persistence of a household’s location, and the
conservation of burials inside Chalcatzingo’s households, which suggests the existence
of multiple high-ranking houses from the elite or from leaders… Around 1100 BC the
people of Chalcatzingo made drastic modifications to their landscape, by building
terraces on the hillslope in a well-planned and coordinated community project’.
Gillespie considers it unlikely that lineages could have survived for several centuries, so
it is more productive to suggest ‘a model of groups with properties, like houses that
were able to maintain at least a fictional continuity with the former occupants of the
terraces… Unlike lineage, in the house the continuity of practices overrides any need to
prove biological links of descent. Chalcatzingo households were obviously an important
way to manifest materially the persistence of social houses’ (p. 399).
Gillespie regards Chalcatzingo as ‘a regional center, an extremely important and
influential site in central Mexico during the Middle Formative. Archaeological data
pertaining to Chalcatzingo’s social complexity can best be seen not as an inevitable
consequence of centralizing forces… but rather as the result of strategic practices
carried out by a network of interacting houses in the context of changing material and
historical circumstances’ (p. 401).
The Valley of Oaxaca was also a target for Olmec expansion during the Middle
Formative. Marcus and Flannery (1996) tell us that this valley was in contact with the
Gulf Coast Olmec, primarily San Lorenzo, Veracruz. A system of interaction existed
that included the Valley of Oaxaca ‘as well as… the Basin of Mexico and Chiapas.
Microscopic studies of pottery show that luxury gray ware from the Valley of Oaxaca
was traded to San Lorenzo, to… the Pacific coast of Chiapas, and to Tlapacoya in the
Basin of Mexico. Obsidian from the Basin of Mexico… and from… the Guatemala
highlands circulated among these regions’ (p. 119). Magnetite was a high-prestige
commodity, as it was used by the Olmec for making mirrors for ritual and political
 196

displays. This mineral was mined in Oaxaca and sent from there to San Lorenzo and the
Valley of Morelos. In addition to the above resources, ‘pure white pottery… was traded
to Chalcatzingo, Tehuacán [Puebla], Oaxaca, and the Chiapas-Guatemala coast’. In light
of all this evidence, Marcus and Flannery reached the following conclusions: ‘No
society of 1150-850 BC arose in isolation; all borrowed ideas on chiefly behavior and
symbolism from each other’ (p. 119).
Richard Wilk (2004) studied the relationship between the Olmecs and the Valley
of Oaxaca from an anthropological and historical perspective, pointing out that one of
the first obstacles to understanding Olmec relationships with other Formative peoples
throughout Mesoamerica can be seen in ‘the fallacies of “marching potsherds” and
identifying cultures with diagnostic artifacts [that] have long been critiqued by
archaeologists, most of whom recognize that archaeological cultures are analytical
constructs’ (p. 84). In Wilk’s view, ‘whole epochs of prehistory are still recognized by
horizon markers… [or] styles attributed to a single cultural origin that become
widespread, providing a temporal boundary, like a dated layer of volcanic ash from a
single eruption’ (p. 84). Searching for an explanation of the nature of the Olmec
presence in the Valley of Oaxaca, Wilk says that ‘the standard view for many years was
that the Olmec was the “mother culture” of all subsequent civilizations in
Mesoamerica… At various times the spread of Olmec culture and art has been attributed
to religious missionaries, militant kings and marching warriors, organized trading
parties and even a great political empire’ (p. 85). Moreover, he suggests the existence of

A basic kind of fashion system where local social competition drives importation
of objects, ideas and practices from elsewhere and the development of local
copies and variations of imports by lower ranking local competitors… (Other,
more complex fashion systems can also be defined; fashions can flow from
commoners to elites, or between commoner groups in different places.) Through
time, one would expect that the local elites become more like the elites they
emulate and admire; they are Olmecized, but do not ever become Olmec. In fact,
for this system to operate it is not even necessary, eventually, for there to be a
group of real Olmec at the center, since the objects that circulate are made by the
various local elites, who can keep the system going on their own (p. 87).
 197

Moving to the west of Oaxaca, we see that the archaeology of the territory
occupied by the modern state of Guerrero presents something of a puzzle in terms of its
pre-Hispanic cultural manifestations. Still poorly-known archaeologically, Guerrero sits
between West Mexico proper and the westernmost regions of Formative Mesoamerica,
and so presented a frontier situation during Formative (and later) times. As stated by
Louise Paradis (1981), Guerrero is known for ‘its remains of the Olmec, Teotihuacan,
and even Classic Maya traditions… Almost all of these styles are known because of…
the well-organized looting activities... These styles are frequently mentioned in
publications, but their presence in Guerrero is not well understood due to a lack of
archaeological context’ (p. 196). During the ‘Early and Middle Formative periods… the
local populations seem to have participated in a vast Mesoamerican exchange network
in which Olmec-style artifacts played a still not totally explained function… Systematic
archaeological investigations are still scarce… but they do give a framework for
discussing prehistoric activities in the area’ (p. 196).
The ‘snarling jaguar’ iconographic complex mentioned above has been reported
for the rock paintings of Oxtotitlan and Juxtlahuaca, in southern Guerrero, which were
studied by David Grove (1970). Grove wrote that ‘Olmec art in the highlands is not
incipient, but well developed and sophisticated, showing its derivation from the
contemporary Olmec styles’ from the Gulf Coast heartland (p. 33). In considering why
these paintings occur in Guerrero, so far from the Olmec country, Grove presents the
hypothesis ‘that an apparent patterning exists for highland Olmec sites, which suggests
that they are located along major trade routes between the central highlands, Guerrero,
and the Gulf coast. In other words, the spread of the Olmec style appears related in
some degree to their quest for natural resources unavailable in their tropical homeland’
(p. 33) (Figure 48).
Teopantecuanitlán is a major site in northwestern Guerrero with Olmec
architectural, sculptural, funerary and other features. Guadalupe Martínez Donjuan
(1994), who conducted archaeological research at this site, says that
Teopantecuanitlán’s officially-demarcated site area amounts to 161 hectares, of which a
mere 10% has been surveyed by archaeologists, while the ancient area of habitation was
certainly much larger. Archaeological explorations at this site have focused on
ceremonial constructions, living areas, workshops, irrigation infrastructure and funerary
constructions. The C-14 dates we have for Teopantecuanitlán indicate that it was first
occupied around 1400 BC. Before 1200 BC, there is an occupation apparently affiliated
 198

with the Olmecs of the Gulf coast, who were responsible for the first ceremonial
constructions at the site (p. 154). Between 1200 and 1000 BC, the Olmecs consolidated
their power in this part of Guerrero, building a new ceremonial precinct at
Teopantecuanitlán, and modifying the site’s layout, with a well-defined and more
developed architecture. Between 1000 and 800 BC, the town reached its peak,
becoming a regional hegemonic center reflected, for example, in changes in
architecture: mud as a building material was replaced by carved stone in a new
architectural style. The scale and complexity of the constructions is remarkable, not just
for its monumentality but also for the Olmec features, including complex iconography
reminiscent of the Gulf coast (pp. 155-157).
Paradis (1990) analyzed the literature and current ideas generated by
archaeological research in the Olmec region and other parts of Mesoamerica, including
Guerrero. Her review presents what she calls ‘the Olmec phenomenon’, a concept based
on her own research in Guerrero, as well as the work of others in that state and
surrounding areas during the Middle Formative. Paradis arrives at the following
conclusions: ‘The Olmec system of representation [is] the beginning of a religion, a way
of thinking and a world view, which unified all Mesoamerican regions… The symbols
of this system circulated through the same networks as raw materials, goods and people’
(p. 38). Regarding the role likely played by Olmec symbolism, she sustains that it may
have been of an ideological-religious or social nature, but this does not necessarily
imply an economic or political control on the part of the sponsors of the Olmec style of
representation (p. 39).
Olmec artifacts across Mesoamerica ‘were integrated with the local productions,
and constituted the first manifestations of an ideological system shared by many regions
in Mesoamerica’ (Paradis 2008). In the case of Guerrero, ‘Miguel Covarrubias had a
brilliant insight about Olmec-style lapidary production. He proposed that the origin of
the Olmec style was in Guerrero’, because of the quantity of objects of this style found
in this part of Mesoamerica. ‘Today, everybody agrees that Covarrubias was wrong in
this respect, but no one can deny the importance and mastery of Guerrero’s lapidary art,
and its association with Olmec civilization… Undoubtedly, this was the main
contribution made by Guerrero to Olmec civilization and to later cultures’ (p. 244).
Ignacio Bernal (1910-1992) was one of the most influential archaeologists of the
20th century, as well as one of the foremost authorities on the Olmec and other cultures
of the Formative and later periods. Regarding the question of the Olmec presence in
 199

West Mexico proper (i.e. Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit), Bernal’s (1969)
conclusions included the following: ‘I find no Olmec evidence in… western Mexico,
which means that these people did not reach that area… my view is that the Olmecs
never went farther north than the Balsas River –if they went that far– and did not
penetrate to the Michoacán lakes region. This fact has extremely important implications;
I believe that the basis of all the difference between western Mexico and the rest of
Mesoamerica can be found here’ (p. 143). Bernal offered the following judgment about
West Mexico vis a vis the Olmec: ‘Not having had the civilizing influence of the
Olmecs, western Mexico remained permanently backward, a situation that began to alter
only many centuries later with the establishing of the Tarascan Empire in the fifteenth
century’ (p. 143).
Bernal’s rather negative perspective on West Mexico was written over 50 years
ago and reflects the Mexican archaeological establishment of that time, while also
expressing the zeitgeist among most Mexican archaeologists (and those of other
countries) working in Mesoamerica in the mid-20th century (see Chapter II for a
discussion of this issue). Although Bernal was correct in his perception of the
relationship (or lack thereof) between West Mexico’s pre-Hispanic peoples and the
Olmec culture, there certainly was nothing ‘backward’ about the western regions of the
Mesoamerican ecumene during the Formative and later periods, as we shall see in the
following chapters.

The Middle Formative Period in West Mexico

The transition from the Archaic to the Formative period was a gradual one, and this
process affected different parts of Mesoamerica in distinct ways. In the case of West
Mexico, the earliest dates for the onset of the Formative period are somewhat younger
than the time frame we have for southern and central Mesoamerica. This gap in
archaeological evidence is seen in the Marismas Nacionales sequence, where Foster and
Scott indicated certain doubts regarding the periods between 2500 BC to AD 300 by
adding question marks (2017a: Table 4.1). Mountjoy (2015) wrote that there is a
vacuum of half a millennium in the archaeological evidence between the last record for
the Archaic period (ca. 1750 BC) and the first known dates for the Formative period in
West Mexico (ca. 1200 BC). According to Mountjoy (p. 2), this indicates that the
farming groups of the Middle Formative colonized a territory that had been formerly
unoccupied in the western regions of the ecumene.
 200

Christopher Beekman (2010) described the Early and Middle Formative periods
as the time frame in which ‘the earliest sedentary populations [appear] in West Mexico,
coinciding with climatic trends toward wetter conditions… and the continuing spread of
agriculture across the region’. He mentions ‘a major west-east cultural distinction from
the Early Formative that centered on the valleys of central Mexico. To the east and
south were cultures that shared a variety of ties with [the Olmec] and the Gulf Coast. To
the west along the Río Lerma-Santiago were societies with shared ceramic ties… and
generalized links to northwestern South America’, while the Olmec art style was almost
totally absent in the western areas of the ecumene (p. 16).
In Chapter II, we discussed the El Opeño site in northern Michoacán, one of the
best-known examples of Middle-Formative culture in the western area of the
Mesoamerican ecumene (Oliveros 1974; 1989; 1992; 2004). El Opeño was most likely a
village of regional importance, but the only archaeological information we have about
this archaeological culture consists of several tombs and the offerings found within
them, since the houses, temples, markets, fields and other cultural remains on the
ground have not yet been found (Oliveros [2004:25] mentions the probable existence of
Middle-Formative domestic architecture in the vicinity of the area where the tombs are
located, but this has not been documented properly). The El Opeño tombs could be the
forerunners of the shaft tombs that are so characteristic of West Mexico. These tombs
might also have functioned as family crypts, since they housed multiple burials, and
there is evidence that they were reutilized in antiquity (Oliveros 1974:195) (Figure 49).
Oliveros (2004) further reported that the El Opeño tombs that had not been
disturbed (either in antiquity or by modern looters) yielded six complete skeletons,
pertaining to six primary burials inside five chambers. Excavators also found the lower
extremities of an additional five skeletons, which were in the original place where they
had been laid to rest (p. 49).
The rest of the skeletons had been disturbed, pushed aside toward the edges, the
back, or the center of the tomb chambers, ending up as piles of unarticulated bones.
Thanks to the number of skeletons found in the tombs, we have a pretty good idea about
the people who lived at the site during the Formative period, including the whole range
of ages and the probable family and social groups represented (p. 50). The data derived
from the people of El Opeño through their mortal remains pertain to an active, healthy
population of relatively tall stature (an average of 1.70 m for the males). The physical
strength of the people interred in the burial chambers is shown by well-defined muscle
 201

insertions in the bones, though on average the life expectancy was probably not higher
than 45-50 years. The largest age-group represented by the total sample of individuals is
composed of males and females who were 30-40 years old at death (p. 51).
Pottery artifacts from El Opeño consist of plain bowls and small pots decorated
with linear incisions, punching and appliqué, quite similar to the ones found at Tlatilco
in the valley of Mexico, a more or less contemporaneous site (Figure 50). The pots are
decorated with negative paint (red or black), which may be the oldest predecessor for
Tarascan (i.e. Postclassic) pottery decorated using the same technique (Oliveros
1989:126-127). Figurines are also an important part of the ceramic assemblage found at
El Opeño. Anthropomorphic figurines bear a strong resemblance to Formative types
from the Basin of Mexico, and include ballplayers (Figure 51a) and figures that may
represent personages of high status (Figure 51b).
The El Opeño material culture identified to date pertains to one of the earliest
archaeological cultures so far documented in West Mexico, with C-14 dates around
1310-1110 BC (Oliveros and de los Ríos 1993:47), based on an assessment of over 40
carbon samples found in archaeological context inside the tombs, according to Oliveros
(2004:22, 25). This time frame apparently coincides with a period of high volcanic
activity in this part of Michoacán, which covered the site where the tombs are located
and, presumably, the dwelling areas as well, with ash and other volcanic materials,
making it extremely difficult for archaeologists to locate them (Oliveros 1992:241-244).
Because of the lack of archaeological evidence beyond the materials found
inside the tombs, there is very little we can say about the lifeway of the El Opeño
people in ancient times, though we can make some educated guesses about the
environment and the resources available to this people by studying the extant historical
sources from the early Colonial period. El Opeño is located in the current suburban area
of the city of Jacona, near Zamora. We know that around 1544 it was an important town
that paid taxes to the Spanish Crown in the form of agricultural produce and other goods
that seem to reflect a favorable ecological setting, including beans, chili peppers, salt,
pinol (i.e. pinole, toasted corn meal), sandals, jícaras (i.e. bowls made of gourds), fish,
chickens, and tamales (González de Cossío 1952:213). In the mid-16th century, the
Jacona area contained six cabeceras (i.e. head towns) subject to the Spanish Crown,
which had to pay regularly tribute. The lands were of the best quality for farming, and
there was a salty lake with good fish stocks nearby (Paso y Troncoso 1905:302). A
recent study of the natural and cultural landscape of the area adjacent to El Opeño,
 202

extending throughout the municipality of Jacona, has shown that the environment
surrounding the archaeological site consisted of a landscape dominated by lakes and
marshes, an area that was prone to seasonal inundations below an altitude of 1600-1700
m above sea level (Sánchez 2007; see also Oliveros 2004:25).
Inside the tombs, Oliveros (2004) found 88 stone artifacts identified as projectile
points or knives, which in addition to the 24 items found in previous excavations, make
a total of 112 objects. Most were made of black obsidian, but objects of grey, brown and
green varieties also exist in the collection. Harder stones such as silex and chalcedony
were also used, though they are less frequent (p. 118). Most of the black obsidian found
at El Opeño came from sources in Michoacán, such as Zinapécuaro, Ucareo or
Zináparo, while the green obsidian has been identified as an import from Cerro de las
Navajas, a well-known source in the state of Mexico (p. 119). In addition to projectile
points, blades, knives and other tools made of chipped stone, the El Opeño inventory
includes items made of polished stone, such as mortars, which were carved from basalt
or other fine-grained volcanic stone. The shapes of the mortars include square, round
and half-moon, with three or four supports (p. 135).
Because of the lack of data from domestic contexts, faunal remains are not as
plentiful in the collections from El Opeño as one would wish, though they were
relatively abundant among the grave goods. During the course of excavations, complete
bones and bone fragments were recovered, which give us an idea about the biological
environment in which the people of El Opeño lived. Among the vertebrates, we find one
group of reptiles and seven mammal taxa. The first group is represented by fresh-water
turtles, known today as pochitoque by the local people (Kinosternon hirtipes); one adult
individual and fragments of another specimen were found inside Tomb 7. The turtle
remains were probably used as an ornament or as part of musical instruments (turtle
carapaces were used as percussion instruments in Mesoamerica). Stone representations
of turtle carapaces were also found in the tombs, hinting at their utilization in ritual
contexts (p. 155).
Among the mammals, carnivores are represented by the fang of a puma (Puma
concolor), which was perforated and probably used as a pendant. Another carnivore is
the weasel (Mustela frenata), represented by the mandibles of five adult individuals (p.
155). Deer bone is also abundant, pertaining to the local species of white-tailed deer
(Odocoileus virginianus). Deer bones were modified into needles and awls, which may
have been used for knitting fishnets or other textiles, or for weaving reed baskets (p.
 203

156) (Figure 52). A wetland environment like the one that surrounded El Opeño was
covered by many species of aquatic plants (Sánchez 2007), including rushes or tules
(Typha spp.) and reeds or carrizos (Scirpus spp.), which may have been used for
making reed mats or petates, baskets, house walls and roofs, among a long list of other
products that could have been elaborated with these materials. The tool assemblage used
in the manufacture of reed mats, baskets and other items consisted of hand stones,
anvils and the like (Williams 2009a, 2014a). Oliveros (2004) found a collection of
several small river cobbles he calls machacadores (mashers), and offered the following
interpretation for their use: ‘The mashers… are simple river cobbles, although they are
larger than the ones I mentioned when discussing polishers and votive offerings. In this
case we are dealing with improvised tools or with part of a tool kit that consisted of
wooden [objects]’. This collection of handstones consists of ‘fifteen river cobbles of
different sizes, some with visible traces of wear by abrasion’ (p. 141). One hypothetical
interpretation would link these stones to the tools used today by artisans in the Cuitzeo
and Pátzcuaro lakes to make rush (tule) mats and reed (carrizo) baskets (see Williams
2014a, 2014b, 2014c).
Several animal species found among the burial offerings were probably part of
the diet, such as the ground squirrel known in the area today as techalote (Spermophilus
variegatus), and a rabbit (Sylvilagus floridianus) (p. 158). Oliveros may be right in
suggesting that most of the faunal remains found inside the tombs may be related to
ritual aspects of life. One such item is a fragment of conch-shell (Strombus galeatus) (p.
251), which may have been used in ritual or shamanic practices, as suggested by Furst
(1965). This item is also important because it indicates the existence of far-flung trade
or exchange links with other areas of Mesoamerica. Strombus galeatus is a gastropod
distributed from the Gulf of California in Mexico to the Galápagos Islands in Ecuador
(Arroyo Mora 1998), so it must have been transported to El Opeño by tradesmen or
high-status individuals who had access to such exotic products.
As mentioned above, the archaeological information we have about the El
Opeño people is limited to the materials found inside the tombs. At present, few
attempts have been made to link this material culture with general aspects of the people
responsible for their creation, for example the environment in which they lived and the
way they adapted to it. There is, however, sufficient historical information to propose a
hypothesis about the lifeway of the El Opeño people. In the following section, I present
a summary discussion of this information, based on data from the 16th to 20th centuries.
 204

According to Martín Sánchez (2007), Jacona de Plancarte is a prosperous town

in northern Michoacán, in the catchment area of the great Lerma River Basin. Jacona
had been a Tarascan community until the Spanish Conquest in the 16th century.
Sánchez (2007) has written that the people of Jacona had a close and productive
relationship with the aquatic landscape dominated by the two major waterways that
crossed their territory: the Duero and Celio rivers. According to this author (2007),
‘during roughly 400 years the water of these rivers was a key element for the
development of economic activities for the people of Jacona’ (p. 1).
One of the major characteristics of the Lerma-Chapala Basin ‘is the existence of
extensive valleys formed by alluvial soils… these valleys were produced by volcanic
activity from the Pliocene and Quaternary periods, when the buckling of the earth
surface trapped great amounts of water… In time, wind and rain erosion gave the
mountains their present relief, developed the hydrologic system, and filled in the
depressions formed by the first volcanic eruptions’ (pp. 2-3). The natural slope
traversed by the ancient Lerma River and its many tributaries was blocked in numerous
places. These obstructions originated partially stepped basins and lakes, many of which
still remain today, albeit in a much-diminished size.
The aquatic environment that resulted from the geological processes mentioned
above, consisting of springs, streams, lakes and marshes, fostered the development of a
great variety of plants and animals that would become the basic elements of the
Mesoamerican diet, as well as the lifeway of the region’s human inhabitants. On the
river margins, for instance, many aquatic plants thrived: trees like the sabino or
ahuehuete (Juniperus communis), sauce (Salix sp.), fresno (Fraxinus sp.), and others.
On the hills and mountains inside, or bordering, the basins, the major trees were the
following: pine (Pinus sp.), oak (Quercus sp.), encino (Quercus sp.), madroño (Arbutus
sp.), and many other local species: cusirpe, cirimo, chopo, tepame and tepehuaje, all of
which were useful for diverse activities: for construction, firewood or carbon, making
farm tools, or in carpentry. No less important are the many native species of fruit trees,
such as avocado (Persea americana), guamúchil (Pithecellobium sp.), guava (Psidium
guajava), and capulín (Trema micrantha) (p. 6).
The richness in native flora was matched by the many animal species that lived
here, as recorded in the earliest historical accounts of the 16th century, the Relaciones
geográficas (see below).
 205

The Duero River flows through an extensive area until it is blocked by a massive
basaltic wall near the Zamora valley. For many centuries, this land formation prevented
the natural drainage of the water carried by the river, creating a wetland or marsh
environment that expanded or contracted according to the seasons. During the rainy
season in the months of June to September, both the Duero and Celio rivers overflowed,
extending the surface covered by marshes. During this time, the water level rose to a
depth of one meter in the center of the wetland area. In the dry season, in contrast, the
marsh area contracted considerably, leaving huge tracts of land that had been fertilized
by the plentiful organic matter brought by the water currents. The inhabitants of these
valleys had to adapt to the cyclical changes in the environment, for it was not until the
1930s that the marsh and wetland conditions could be modified by human activity
(Sánchez 2007:8). At different moments during the past 500 years, the inhabitants of the
Zamora-Jacona region have had to contend with the overflowing rivers and the
formation of wetlands, which hindered ‘modern’ agriculture and exacerbated the danger
of flooding for local communities. Therefore, people have constantly been trying to
master the rivers and eliminate the marshlands (p. 9).
The Western (i.e. Spanish) attitude toward the aquatic environment described
above was quite different from the Mesoamerican tradition, based as it was on a lifeway
that had adapted successfully to the lakes, marshes and other wetland environments
from earliest times until the end of the pre-Hispanic sequence in the Mesoamerican
ecumene. Sánchez (2007) sums up this situation in the following passage: ‘The
availability of water, the soils accumulated over a span of millennia and the soils
transported by surface water currents, fostered the reproduction of a remarkable variety
of different natural environments, that in time would be utilized by people’ (p. 14). In
this respect, the Relación geográfica de Chilchota (a town about 30 km southeast of
Jacona) is quite eloquent. According to this 16th century source, the native inhabitants
of this part of Michoacán usually consumed ‘deer meat, snakes, mice, gophers, locusts,
and worms. And they eat grubs raised in the hives of the bees, which are plentiful in this
land… from small bees that raise them in the hills close to the trees. And they ate other
vermin, like badger, otters that are in the water, and dogs that they had, which were
fattened like pigs. And they eat the same today. They used to drink wine from maize
and maguey [i.e. century plant], and they got drunk’ (Acuña 1987:109).
Sánchez (2007) tells us that thanks to the location of the pre-Hispanic
settlements in relation to the wetlands, as well as the abundant natural resources,
 206

survival activities such as hunting and gathering were important means of exploitation
of the environment. But farming was no less important, as the aquatic environment
enabled people to develop intensive agricultural systems. The terraces and bancales (i.e.
modifications of the hillslopes consisting in a combination of ridges and ditches)
deserve special mention, such as the ones found on the north slope of the Cerro de
Curutarán (the major geological formation in the Jacona Valley), as well as the possible
existence of chinampas (i.e. raised fields built in marsh areas) in the valleys. One reads
in the Relación de Chilchota that the terraces consisted of ‘stones set by hand, like
steps, leaving between each step a space of one vara [ca. 85 cm], where they grow
maize’ (Acuña 1987:104). Sánchez (2007) describes a pre-Hispanic terrace system in
the valley of Jacona, which extends over a surface of some 70 hectares, while the
bancales in the same area were also important as part of the farming systems used by
the native Tarascans (p. 16). After more than four centuries of landscape modification,
and in spite of many changes brought about by different political, economic and social
processes, the pre-Hispanic bancales are still plainly visible, indicated by subtle
changes on the landscape as well as by the archaeological materials on the surface (i.e.
stones). A rough estimate of the area covered by these agricultural fields would be of
about 120 hectares (p. 18).
Sánchez tells us that because of ‘the partial inundation of the Zamora Valley
during the months of June to September, and the formation of marshlands in the vicinity
of Jacona, it is understandable that the earliest inhabitants of the region settled in the
areas around the valleys, usually in places higher than 1,600 meters above sea level’ (p.
19). Sánchez sums up his discussion of pre-Hispanic subsistence around Zamora and
Jacona by stating that when the Spaniards first arrived here, they found a landscape
characterized by extensive wetlands, but the local landscape had been modified and
adapted by systematic transformations during many centuries before the Spanish
Conquest, indeed long before the inception of the Tarascan Empire (early 15th century).
The historical information described above can be used to propose a hypothesis
about the lifeway of the first inhabitants of this part of Michoacán. Comparisons with
other areas of Mesoamerica offer another fruitful approach to answering the question of
how the early michoacanos thrived in the environment just described. We have seen
that the ancient people who lived in the Jacona Valley were able to adapt to their
environment, and modify the land in order to produce an agricultural surplus (though
the terraces and other features most likely pertain to later periods, postdating the
 207

Formative people of El Opeño by many centuries). In addition to farming, the aquatic

lifeway based on fishing, hunting and gathering was the most efficient system of food
production, especially in a cultural setting that lacked cattle. Because of its high
productivity, this aquatic lifeway was able to persist in many areas of Mesoamerica
until the Spanish Conquest (Williams 2014a).
Leaving behind the Jacona region, we now turn our attention to another
important archaeological entity of West Mexico during the Middle Formative period:
the ceramic assemblage known as Capacha in the state of Colima (Figure 53). Capacha
was roughly contemporaneous with El Opeño, and the two sites appear to have been
culturally-linked. Capacha materials were initially radiocarbon dated to around 1450
B.C.; a date supposedly confirmed by similarities with pottery from El Opeño (Kelly
1970:28). However, the timeframe for Capacha has been revised forward to more recent
dates since Beekman et al. (1996) began to express doubts about Kelly’s dates: ‘the C-
14 dates published by Isabel Kelly for Colima… are erroneous and quite misleading’ (p.
1), while Mountjoy (2015) said that ‘Kelly had a radiocarbon date indicating great
antiquity for… Capacha, but not even Kelly herself trusted that date… In the Valley of
Mascota, Jalisco, there are nine radiocarbon dates from… Capacha-like materials,
indicating a time frame of 1000-700 BC, and a volcanic layer where Capacha burials
were dug was dated at ca. 1000-800 BC’ (p. 4). While the dates for both Capacha and El
Opeño have been moved forward to more recent times, this in no way detracts from
their important role in West Mexican culture history (Beekman 2010; Mountjoy 2015).
According to Greengo and Meighan (1976:15), Capacha is doubly-important for
the archaeology of West Mexico, for it contains the earliest ceramic horizon in the
Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area, and includes among its characteristic pottery types such
vessel forms as the ‘stirrup-spout’, which suggests affinities with similar items found in
archaeological contexts pertaining to the Formative period in both Mexico and the
Andean region. Capacha pottery has been found over a relatively wide area that
includes, in addition to Colima, the states of Jalisco, Nayarit, Sinaloa, Michoacán and
Guerrero (Kelly 1980:22).
According to Kelly (1980), the similarities between Capacha and other ceramic
styles are slight, although, as mentioned above, there are evident ties with El Opeño, as
well as with ‘the still poorly-defined Tlatilco style’ (p. 29). In discussing the purported
affinities between Capacha and Tlatilco materials, Kelly says that ‘There are suggestive
resemblances between Capacha and some of the features attributed to the Tlatilco style.
 208

Yet meaningful comparison is difficult because the “style” in question wants sharp
definition and its temporal placement has fluctuated considerably’ (p. 32). Kelly sees in
both Capacha and Tlatilco-style ceramics ‘a preponderance of somber black-brown-gray
monochrome’, but when writing on figurines she states that: ‘I see comparatively little
resemblance between the Capacha specimens and those… from Tlatilco… as far as
figurines are concerned, Capacha shows stronger resemblance to Tlatilco-style
examples from Morelos than to cognate specimens from the site of Tlatilco, and a closer
similarity to Morelos products than to those of the El Opeño phase’. In summary, Kelly
arrived at the somewhat ambiguous conclusion that ‘several traits commonly associated
with [the Tlatilco style] show resemblances to Capacha [but] it is difficult to evaluate
such similarities’ (p. 34).
Aside from the instances discussed above, there is little basis for comparing
Capacha with other, strictly Mesoamerican, ceramic assemblages that may pertain, more
or less, to the same timeframe. The Capacha pottery style, therefore, is not wholly
Mesoamerican, but neither can it be defined as South American, though it has some
features that suggest links with northwestern South America. Capacha’s peculiar pots
with triple stirrup spouts are unique (Figure 54), and certain missing elements may also
be of importance, though hard to explain, such as the scarcity of bottles with a single
thin neck and the absence of shell and rocker stamping. Finally, Capacha figurines are
totally unlike South American styles that may be contemporaneous (Kelly 1980:37).
Archaeological materials pertaining to the Capacha and El Opeño ceramic complexes
have been found over a broad geographical area, including the Michoacán coast
(Cabrera 1989:138), the Tomatlán River basin in Jalisco (Mountjoy 1982:325), and the
following sites, also in Jalisco: San Juanito, Teuchitlán, El Refugio and Citala (Weigand
1992a:221, and personal communication).
According to Mountjoy (1994a:40), ‘there are many problems or enigmas still to
be solved in relation to the interpretation of the archaeological remains that have been
called Capacha’. The following are the main doubts cited by this author: (1) whether
Capacha was a pre-Olmec development, or coexisted with this Formative culture (ca.
1200-300 B.C.); (2) whether the Capacha folk used shaft tombs to bury their deceased,
which would be an important link with the El Opeño culture; and (3) the meaning and
significance of iconographic similarities between Capacha and the Olmec, which were
not recognized in Kelly’s original work. In conclusion, Mountjoy hypothesized that the
Capacha culture was derived from several cultural roots, and served, in turn, as the basis
 209

for several later pre-Hispanic developments in the western area of the ecumene
(Mountjoy 1994a:40).
In the course of an archaeological rescue operation on the outskirts of Colima
City during 2002, Olay (2016) discovered an area of burials pertaining to the Capacha
phase. Olay wrote that one characteristic of the early phases of Colima, primarily
Capacha, is that the burial zones are located at a distance from the places where people
lived in their villages and towns. Because of this, it has not been possible to study a
Capacha settlement and achieve a reconstruction of daily life. According to Olay, one
possible reason for this lack of archaeological evidence of early sites is that people
would occupy the same living spaces for long periods of time, and the older traces of
construction and domestic activities would be obscured or destroyed by the more recent
occupations.
From Colima we move to the northwestern coastal area of Jalisco, where
Mountjoy has been excavating since the early 1970s (Mountjoy 1974; 2012). Mountjoy
and Rhodes (2018) discuss the issue of cultural links between West Mexico, Central
America and the northwestern Andean area in the Formative period, where they
perceive shaft tombs as the most striking trait shared throughout this extensive portion
of the New World: ‘Tombs of the shape called shaft-and-chamber have been found in
many Latin American countries, primarily in the Mexican states of Nayarit, Zacatecas,
Jalisco, Michoacán and Colima, in the province of Veraguas in Panamá… in Colombia
and Ecuador… in the far north of Peru… also in northern Chile, northwestern Argentina
and the Guayanas… and Brasil’ (p. 85). These tombs generally consist of a vertical
shaft leading to one or more burial chambers excavated in the bedrock, as we saw in
Chapter II.
Mountjoy (2012) has worked for 22 years in three areas of northwestern Jalisco:
Mascota, San Sebastián del Oeste, and Puerto Vallarta (Figure 55), where he has
conducted excavations in ten Formative cemeteries and explored 99 tombs containing
the remains of 261 individuals accompanied by a total of 817 offerings (Mountjoy and
Rhodes 2018:89-90). The latest report on this research is based on a corpus of 33
pristine shaft-and-chamber tombs and 11 partially-looted tombs found at eight
archaeological sites whose dates span a period of approximately 1,260 years, from ca.
820 BC to ca. AD 440. These dates were obtained either by C-14 assessments or were
based on indirect evidence, such as comparisons with firmly-dated artifacts from other
sites (p. 90). The shaft-and-chamber tombs are located in cemeteries that appear to have
 210

been the focus of ritual-ceremonial activities performed by the people who inhabited the
communities (hamlets or villages) associated with them. Mountjoy and Rhodes (2018)
see shaft tombs as only one of several options for disposing of the mortal remains of
villagers who lived in this part of West Mexico. Other varieties of funerary treatment
included direct burial in pits excavated in the subsoil, shafts without a chamber, and
internment in pottery urns.
These authors further report that ‘shaft-and-chamber tombs in the area under
consideration have been found at a depth of over three meters, although they are usually
located at a lower depth’ (p. 92). In one of the excavated cemeteries, they found ‘a shaft
that had… no chamber, and the human remains and offerings were found at the bottom
of the pit. In other cases we found tombs with two or three chambers jutting from the
same shaft’ (p. 92).
In discussing the contents of the tombs, Mountjoy and Rhodes mention that ‘in
terms of the number of individuals buried in the same… chamber, we have found
human remains ranging from one person to 12 individuals. Sometimes… offerings [are]
directly associated to certain individual burials (Figure 56), but in other instances the
items appear to have been offered to the whole group’ (p. 94). As for the human
remains, they have been found in different conditions of articulation. Some skeletons
are in an extended position with complete articulation (Figure 57), whereas others are
only partially-articulated, or are bundled up as in some ‘funerary chambers where all the
burials are disarticulated, wrapped-up in bundle-like packages’ (Figure 58) (p. 94).
Other tombs held the remains of cremated bodies; while in one case, analyses of the
remains revealed that five corpses had been buried differentially according to their
respective states of decomposition. Mountjoy and Rhodes have been able to reconstruct
a cultural pattern in the area under discussion, one that consists of a ‘funerary ceremony,
probably of annual frequency, during which each community buried the remains of all
the people who had died during that year. The recently-deceased would enter the tomb
in articulated condition, while the ones who had died months before were represented
only by their skull and some unarticulated long bones’ (p. 95).
Most burials from the Middle Formative in this study area had offerings (Figure
59), such as pots and figurines. Ceramic vessels are the most common objects found in
shaft tombs, some of which may have held food or beverages at the moment of burial,
since some pots retain traces of maize (p. 96). Both the quantity and quality of the
offerings seem to reflect three main factors: (1) the status acquired by reaching
 211

adulthood, expressed by items of precious nature, such as jadeite, iron pyrite, quartz,
and so on; (2) the status conferred by mastering a particular activity, such as an artisan
who worked stone or clay, expressed by his or her tools or samples of the art or craft in
question; and (3) some burials appear to belong to shamans or individuals with
supernatural connotations who were associated in their tombs with conch shell trumpets
or other paraphernalia (p. 95).
Mountjoy (2012) presents the following conclusions on his work in the Mascota
Valley: ‘Broadly speaking, the Formative-period remains found in the Mascota Valley
indicate the presence of a village-dwelling society of sedentary farmers and gatherers,
who were living in this valley by about 1000 BC’ (p. 219). He believes that this farming
pattern was shared in many other areas of Mesoamerica as part of an ‘expansion of
Neolithic people’ (p. 219) that included the southern and central regions of the
Mesoamerican ecumene.
Unfortunately, we have only scant information on the native lifeway in this part
of West Mexico. Mountjoy (2012) writes that El Pantano is located 40 km inland from
the Pacific coast, a distance that could be covered in less than two days following a
route along the Mascota River, which flows into the Banderas Valley, not far from the
Pacific Ocean. El Pantano sits atop a hill at the northern end of a lake basin that once
covered a good part of the Mascota Valley. The lake was drained in modern times in
order to permit cultivation of its humid, fertile soils (pp. 25-27).
El Pantano means ‘the swamp’, and the name may refer to the general ecological
setting of the area where the site is located. In his report on archaeological research at El
Pantano and other sites, Mountjoy (2012) has very little to say about the lifeway of the
ancient people who lived here, so we must turn to other sources in an attempt to
reconstruct the ecological setting and the ways in which people adapted to the physical
conditions of their environment.
Although extant historical sources pertain to a time frame of some 1,000 years
after the archaeological period that interests us, we can use the information provided by
the first Spanish settlers in the 16th century to reconstruct, at least in part, the natural
setting where pre-Hispanic peoples lived for many years before the Conquest. What
follows is a brief discussion of the information provided by several Relaciones
geográficas of the province of Nueva Galicia (present-day Jalisco, Colima and
neighboring areas).
 212

The Relación de Ameca was written in 1581 (Acuña 1988) to describe the
physical setting of the town of Ameca and the agricultural and other resources exploited
by the native population before the arrival of the Spanish: ‘The climate of this town is
rather hot… [and] very humid. The waters that flow [near the town] are more abundant
around the months of June to August… and less so between January and March… This
town is settled in a valley… Water is plentiful… a river flows near the town and there
are some fountains… This is very fertile land, [with] plenty of maize, wheat, vegetables,
and fruit trees’ (p. 30).
During the time before the Spanish invasion, the people of the Ameca area
consumed ‘boiled maize, they make some rolls they call tamalli [i.e. tamales] and maize
poleadas [i.e. boiled flour with water and salt] and toasted maize called cacalotl or
izquitl’ (p. 40). Other food items were pumpkin, beans, chili, wild onions, huaxin
[Leucaena leucocephala, a bush or small tree native to Mexico that produces edible
seeds]… They used salt, from saltworks [and] in small amounts’ (p. 40).
The fauna of the region was also recorded in the Relación. We are told that:
‘They hunted deer and rabbits, native chickens (which they bred), other [wild fowl]
from the hills, and little dogs they called chichitones, which they bred solely for eating,
[also] snakes, mice, badgers, tigers, and other vermin: they cooked this meat in pits with
many stones’ (p. 40). The abundant water in the environment meant that aquatic fowl
were plentiful around Ameca. Among the bird species hunted we find: ‘Cranes, brown
and white geese, ducks, storks, and many other birds found in this region. They were
great hunters during the times of their infidelity’ (p. 40). The Relación tells us that the
people of Ameca and their neighbors used to ‘drink much pulque, which is wine from
the maguey’ and had many species of fruit trees, such as ‘red and yellow plums, of good
taste… mezquites [carob tree, Ceratonia siliqua], zapotes, huamustles [huamúchil, see
below], avocado, guava… They use today all the things and fruits they used [before]…
they make tamales and tortillas from maize and many kinds of atole [i.e. drink made
with ground maize and water]’ (pp. 40-41).
The Relación de la villa de la Purificación, written in 1585, gives a relatively
thorough account of the general situation in this part of the Spanish Empire –the
southern coast of Jalisco– as it was seen by local Spanish colonial officials. This
document was written in compliance with a Royal command to survey the kingdom and
report to the Spanish Crown on all things of interest to the new colonial masters. On the
population of the Purificación region, the Relación states that in ancient times the towns
 213

were densely-populated with many Indians, but that by the time of writing they had died
of many diseases. Few native towns remained in the late 16th century, and no town had
more than perhaps 40 residents. The author of this Relación did not consider those
communities proper towns, since the houses were hidden by vegetation and,
presumably, showed no evidence of town planning. The people who lived here were
‘poor and very lazy, and most of the time… they subsist on fruit, especially bananas’
(Acuña 1988:211).
Several saltworks existed along the coast of Villa de la Purificación: ‘In Piloto
there are three lagoons, where much salt used to be gathered, red or white, which is
quite good for making silver… In the towns of Chametla and Chola there are other salt
works… from which are taken around three or four hundred fanegas of salt. In the town
of Apozolco there are two salty water springs… from which five or six hundred fanegas
are taken… All these lagoons and springs belonged to this villa and to some of its
neighbors’ (p. 215). Some of the names of towns inside the territory of Villa de la
Purificación reflected the most important resource found there. Such is the case of
Cuamichitlan, which means ‘land of guamuchiles, the tree that bears this fruit, which is
their sustenance’ (p. 222). Likewise, the town called Xoxotlan owed its name to the fact
that the native informants said that ‘their ancestors had come from a tree called xocotle,
which means guayabo [i.e. guava]… a good tree with plenty of fruit’ (p. 224).
Meanwhile, the town of Zapotlan ‘means “land of zapotes”, which is a very popular
fruit among them, good to eat, tasty and sweet’ (p. 225). The name of the town Tuito
‘means in their language the same as picete, [Nahuatl for] tobacco’ (p. 228). The town
of Tomatlan is so named ‘because there is… a fruit they much like, called “tomates”
and thus it is called “land of tomates”. This is a red and yellow fruit’. Near this town, ‘a
great river flows by, which has much fish’ (p. 231).
The province of Tenamaztlan, also within the territory of Villa de la
Purificación, had ‘many fountains, streams and water springs… On the top of these
mountains two rivers are born… [with] the best water of this province… after entering
the valley of Teculutlan, this water irrigates the whole valley… Wheat and maize are
grown here, marvelously abundant… they get two crops of maize a year… Another
river is born in the same mountains… good fish crops are found here, trout and catfish’.
The wild trees in this province were also plentiful, including ‘very tall encinas and
robles [i.e. oak], which are turned into firewood for burning… The oaks are also useful
because on some of them there is a honeycomb with white honey, which the [Indians]
 214

take for selling, and some of them pay their tributes with the money they get from the
honey’ (p. 285). In addition to the trees mentioned above, local native populations had
access to ‘highly fertile mountains with very tall pine trees and fir trees, which are used
for making rafters in churches and houses… from the pine trees they get torches for
burning, and instead of candles they get light from the torches. This is in the high
mountains’ (p. 286). In the lands below the mountains of the province the Relación
mentions the existence of ‘many more wild groves like the ones usually found in hot
lands… there are palm trees… from the leaf of the palm they make mats, hats and
ropes… with the wood of the palm they make huts’ (p. 286).
Many other wild tree species are mentioned in this document: ‘There is another
kind of tree, similar to the… prune, [and] one… called guajín, which grows pods with
green grains inside… The natives eat these, like roasted maize… The resin of this tree is
like yellow wax; it is good for many illnesses… to regulate bowel movements and to fix
broken bones… There are many kinds of thorny trees that grow pods used for tanning
skins and for blackening the hair of Indian women’ (p. 286). The Relación mentions
another kind of tree called mezquite, which gave a fruit similar to the Spanish algarroba
with a pleasant sweet taste: ‘They make some breads like the ones made with sugar…
and they keep them for the times of want, because the mezquite does not bear fruit year-
round, but only in the rainy season’. In addition to all the wild trees mentioned in the
Relación, ‘there are many more kinds of trees that are still unknown, nor has there been
anyone in this province who would investigate their properties and find out what they
are good for’ (pp. 286-287).
Fruit trees and other cultivated trees were plentiful in this province:

Many avocados, which is a healthy and advantageous fruit… Of these there are
three species. Others are called tecoma aguacate, the tree is very tall and thick.
Its wood is used for making many things: trays and bowls and other things of
this kind… There is another kind of [avocado] of the size of a dove egg… This
fruit is [eaten] with chili peppers… and… salt… when they eat it with honey it is
the most esteemed of the Indian fruits… They also have another fruit they call
guayaba [i.e. guava] (p. 287)… they eat many of these, and they get fevers…the
leaves are medicinal, [when] boiled and drunk with water they are good for
washing swollen legs. The wood is used for making fences or windows… They
have another kind of tree called quamochitl [modern guamúchil]… it bears a
 215

fruit in a twisted pod… This tree is very tall. The wood would be good for
making boxes, and all the other things they would want to make with it. The
natives use it for burning, because it is plentiful… There are also ciruela [i.e.
plum] trees of two kinds. The plums are sour and unhealthy, they cause fever (p.
288).

The Relación also describes edible grains and seeds, and other plant products:
‘Much maize, and very good, [and] many beans... They get great amounts of chili
peppers, [and] many tomatoes of two kinds: the ones called miltomates and…
xitomates’ 1 (p. 288). Medicinal plants were plentiful, but ‘there is no one who knows
them or who can say how they are called in Spanish. They brought eight different roots
and weeds: a white root … they say it is very good for urine [i.e. to cure urinary
diseases]. It is called texpatli in the Mexican tongue’. About another root ‘they say it is
good for dropsy and for indigestion and common bowel movements. Another root that
oozes milk is good for bloody excrement… They have another [plant]… whose red
offshoots ooze a kind of black milk, [which] is good for curing cancer from flesh sores,
and to prevent sores from spreading’ (p. 289).
All the historical data cited here gives us an idea about the native environment in
this part of West Mexico, and provides essential information for reconstructing the
lifeways that existed before the Spanish conquest.

The Late Formative Period in West Mexico

Beekman (2010) has written that ‘the Late Formative is distinguished by rapid
population growth and expansion into many new areas’ of West Mexico, as well as
‘increased differentiation between subregions in the highlands, evidence for social
inequalities across most of Western Mexico, and rapid political centralization in some
areas… The far western highlands of West Mexico came to share certain ideological
concepts relating to mortuary symbolism during the Late Formative’ (p. 61). The
Tequila Valleys, the Lake Magdalena Basin of central Jalisco, and the wetlands to the
south and southwest, all enjoyed a lush environment before the lakes and marshes were
drained in modern times. In this respect, Beekman stated that in this region during the
Mid- to Late Formative ‘a population of several tens of thousands grew up over the
course of this period in a continuous and dispersed settlement pattern’ (p. 62).
1
Miltomatl is a wild tomato species, while xitomate is like the modern tomato (called jitomate in México).
 216

In the following paragraphs the reader will find a discussion of the Teuchitlán
tradition and other complex societies that flourished during the Late Formative and
Early Classic periods in West Mexico. The second section of this chapter is dedicated to
the Chupícuaro tradition that evolved in the marshes and lakes of the Bajío (lowlands)
and spread to the Basin of Mexico and beyond.
The Late Formative and Early Classic periods (ca. 300 BC-AD 300) in the lake
district of central Jalisco are best represented by the Teuchitlán tradition (Weigand
1985, 1990, 1994, 1996a, 2011a; Weigand et al. 2008). There, the Ahualulco phase (ca.
AD 200-400) witnessed the intensification of cultural processes that were already
underway during the Late Formative. The Teuchitlán people built monumental precincts
(Figure 60) that, according to Weigand (1985), are usually associated with platforms or
pyramids, as well as great architectural circles with high central mounds (Figure 61).
The lake area’s center of gravity began to shift during the Classic period towards the
Ahualulco-Teuchitlán-Tala valleys, with a decrease in sites in neighboring areas,
suggesting that the demographic implosion of the Teuchitlán I phase (ca. AD 400-700)
began in the Early Classic period (Weigand 1990:29).
During this period, the area under discussion had a two-tier hierarchy of
ceremonial centers; the most elaborated of which (Teuchitlán) had architectural
complexes with rectangular plazas and patios that may have served as elite residences or
public spaces (Figure 62). According to Weigand (1991), in the course of fieldwork in
the Teuchitlán Mapping Project many ball courts were found, some of monumental
proportions. By ‘using the fine examples of… figurine art from Late Formative tombs…
in conjunction with well-preserved architecture’ (Figures 63-64), Weigand was able to
suggest ‘an evolution of ball court form and function through two millennia: ca. 600 BC
to the Late Postclassic’ (p. 73).
There were three types of non-ceremonial archaeological sites in the Teuchitlán
core area: (1) small villages with many plazas and patios with burial areas; (2) small
villages with many plazas and patios without burial areas; and, (3) small villages with at
least two plaza-patio complexes, but also without burial areas.
Weigand (1990:31) reported a complex settlement system in the Teuchitlán area
with at least four levels of magnitude, but all settlements shared one singular trait: they
were built at strategic locations with easy access to good agricultural lands. Indigenous
agricultural infrastructure around Lake Magdalena, Jalisco, included large-scale works
similar to the chinampas of central Mexico or the “raised fields” of the Maya area. This
 217

sophisticated agricultural technology must have provided food for a large population in
pre-Hispanic times, mainly during the Classic period (Stuart 2005), as will be discussed
in the next chapter.
One of the most important cultural manifestations in Western Mexico is the
“shaft-tomb tradition” (Galván 1991; Townsend 1998) which developed in the present-
day states of Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit during the Late Formative and Early Classic
periods, as we saw in Chapter II. Until the discovery of an intact shaft tomb in
Huitzilapa, Jalisco, in 1993, practically all our knowledge of these archaeological
features and the objects found in them derived from the activity of looters. In fact,
looting is a very serious threat to archaeological sites throughout the region under
discussion. This illicit activity is driven by the reality that many artifacts, in particular
the figurines found inside shaft tombs, can bring very high prices in the international
antiquities trade.
The excavation of the Huitzilapa tomb by Jorge Ramos and Lorenza López shed
new light on this period in Western Mexico. Huitzilapa was an important ceremonial
site during the Early Classic period (ca. AD 1-300) with several architectural units, such
as plazas, mounds, ball courts, terraces, cruciform residential units, and circular
complexes; the latter apparently linked to the Teuchitlán tradition (Figure 65) (López
and Ramos 1998; Ramos and López 1996). Huitzilapa was also one of many sites that
flourished in the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area during the Late Formative and Early
Classic periods. Most of these sites are characterized by shaft tombs and circular
architecture, the precise features that have been used to define the Teuchitlán tradition
in Western Mexico (Ramos and Lopez 1996; Weigand 1996a).
Excavations at this site in 1993 uncovered the most important shaft tomb found
to date in pristine condition in West Mexico (Figures 66a-66b). This two-chambered
tomb, 7.6 m in depth, contained six individuals –three in each chamber– who had been
buried together with rich offerings (Figure 67), including worked seashells (Figures
68a-68b) and painted conch shells (Figure 68c) imported from afar. Osteological
analysis of the individuals has revealed that they may have been related, so this tomb
could have been a crypt for a group of relatives or members of a specific lineage. A
male individual approximately 45 years of age is by far the most important person
interred in this tomb, judging by the quality and quantity of the offerings associated
with his skeleton. His body had been elaborately adorned with jade and shell bracelets,
nose-rings, earrings, greenstone beads, carved jade pendants and a cloth sewn with
 218

thousands of shell beads. Conch shells ornamented with painted stucco had been placed
on his loins and at his sides, along with atlatl hooks. Two female skeletons were found
in association with artifacts that pertain to the feminine sphere of life: pottery spindle
whorls and metates (grinding slabs) made of volcanic stone. The tomb offerings also
include pottery figures that represent ball players, as well as clay vessels decorated with
geometric and zoomorphic designs (Figure 69), that still contained food remains when
excavated (Lopez and Ramos 1998; Ramos and Lopez 1996).
Beekman (2008a) has attempted to identify the human groups involved in the
construction of the individual components of the circular mound groups or
guachimontones as lineages; that is, as corporate descent groups that recognized their
biological ancestors either patrilineally or matrilineally, or by some other coherent
cluster of descent rules. However, the concept of lineage is a theoretical idealization,
since kinship systems always incorporate fictitious relatives, not based on biological
links. This is why the concept of ‘house society’ has been proposed as an alternative for
understanding social organization among many human groups, including the Teuchitlán
tradition (p. 175).
According to Beekman, a ‘house’ is identified as a corporate body with its own
goods and properties, which are transmitted through mechanisms of descent or alliance
(p. 177). As we saw above, of course, Gillespie (2009) has underscored the usefulness
of the house society model in the context of Formative Mesoamerica.
In the case of the Guachimontón site, individual actors gave their allegiance to
lineages, which gathered around the architectural circles, until partially-independent
communities of various sizes grouped around Guachimontón’s main center and formed
the core of the tradition. But what held this tradition together? What factors fostered
cooperation among elite lineages in the circles? Beekman (2008a:180) suggests that the
elite lineages may have shared an ethos of responsibility over the maintenance of the
community’s welfare. The elite’s participation in farming activities could have been a
reason for bringing competing lineages together around a single architectural circle.
Beekman further sustains that Mesoamerican rulers celebrated public agricultural rituals
to ensure good maize harvests. These rituals could have been a way of achieving the
welfare of entire social groups (p. 189).
Beekman (2008b) goes on to argue that corporate political strategies that
privileged power-sharing over exclusionary tactics were important forms of political
behavior in early complex polities, such as the one discussed here. In this regard, he
 219

presents the case of polities in the Tequila Valley of Jalisco (2008b) to illustrate several
points regarding such corporate strategies: (1) local descent groups can be recognized
through their different architectural and burial patterns; (2) groups of lineages shared
power and the relationships among these groups became more fixed and hierarchical
over time; and finally, (3) distinct strata within the burial patterns of the Teuchitlán
tradition and associated rituals, which separated power-sharing groups from the rest of
the community.
The public rituals mentioned above may have included banquets, as suggested
by Tyndall (2008) and Butterwick (1998). Tyndall’s (2008) study is geared to
improving our understanding of ceremonial activities and architecture at the Teuchitlán-
tradition site of Navajas, Jalisco, and how those activities are visible as ritual contexts in
the archaeological record. Feasts or banquets offer a useful model for understanding the
ritual and ceremonial aspects of culture in the Teuchitlán tradition (p. 251). The
archaeological visibility of feasts is relatively high, as seen in the ceramic figurines
(Figure 70), pottery vessels (presumably for storing and serving foods and liquids), and
other components of material culture pertaining to the Formative period in Jalisco,
Colima, Nayarit, and neighboring areas of West Mexico.
Kristi Butterwick (1998), meanwhile, wrote the following in her study entitled
‘The West Mexican art of feasting’: ‘Throughout the Mesoamerican world, feasts were
the catalyst for significant ritual, social, and political interchange… pre-Hispanic
peoples held over a dozen annual feasts… that commemorated life and death events,
and brokered political and economic deals, in a milieu of feasting’ (p. 89) (Figure 71).
Among the Aztec people, for example, every one of their feasts was a complex ritual
that included the consumption of copious amounts of the drink called octli (modern
pulque), made from the fermented sap of agave, and a dough called tzoalli made from
amaranth seeds (p. 89).
With the arrival of the harvest season, which usually happened in mid-summer,
the Aztecs held their grandest feast, called Huey Miccayhuitl. On this occasion, people
prepared special tamales, chocolate and treats such as amaranth cakes and seeds, and the
meat of turkeys and dogs (Figure 72), accompanied by octli (p. 89). According to
Butterwick, ‘year after year pre-Hispanic peoples joined in the ritual of feasting to
honor the gods… and to integrate diverse elements of their societies’ (p. 89).
Butterwick’s research suggests that the people of ancient West Mexico, like other
Mesoamerican cultures, held their own ritual feasts and hosted their grandest banquets
 220

for their ancestors. Butterwick states that ‘funerary feasts, at which both the living and
the dead commune and consume, are a necessity in traditional societies because they
allow people to shake off death and begin the process of social reordering… beyond this
ritual function, feasting becomes a mechanism for the redistribution, reciprocation, or
circulation of wealth and food surplus’ (p. 90). Like many other ancient societies
worldwide, ‘the people of West Mexico communicated their beliefs in art’. For her
study of ritual consumption in the Teuchitlán tradition, Butterwick examined a corpus
of ceramic sculptures whose thematic content is feasting, and whose context is thought
to be funerary. One contribution of this study is the determination of an archaeological
assemblage that may be linked to feasting and other ‘rites of passage’. The
archaeological markers of these activities would be the figurines portraying scenes of
feasting, and the vessels likely associated with storing, serving and drinking, which
were interred in the tomb as part of the funerary assemblage, perhaps to be used by the
deceased in the afterlife.
In stark contrast to the foregoing discussion of ritual activities and burial sites,
the field of household archaeology has been virtually ignored in West Mexico, as most
authors have devoted their efforts to pottery analysis and tomb offerings (i.e. figurines),
the latter often with no firm archaeological context. One of the first attempts to change
this situation we owe to Jorge Herrejón (2009), whose fieldwork consisted in excavating
and analyzing several habitation structures (Figure 73) in the area of La Joyita, in the
northwestern sector of the site of Los Guachimontones, during the 2003-2004 field
season of the Teuchitlán Archaeological Project.
Herrejón (p. 95) states that the study of houses is indispensable if we are to gain
a complete panorama of the society we now know as the Teuchitlán Tradition. Among
the archaeological finds in Herrejón’s excavation, a carbon sample from a hearth was
used to date the occupation to around AD 360. A living floor was found at La Joyita in a
good state of preservation, part of a room measuring 4.2 m per side. Among the
construction remains found were fragments of the wattle-and-daub walls still in their
original place, as well as a floor with a thickness of 2-4 cm. No visible evidence was
found of activity areas, so a chemical analysis was performed on the floor surface to
look for chemical traces linked to household work performed in ancient times (Figure
74). Such analyses on their own, however, usually fail to provide sufficient evidence for
complete interpretations. Therefore, in this case other lines of investigation were
followed as well, such as studies of lithic materials, pottery, ancient pollen and phytolith
 221

remains, and their interacting archaeological associations. Household research also

requires references to ethnoarchaeological data, where this is available (see, for
example, the study by Williams [2018a] of modern Tarascan households and their
activities), as well as experimental archaeology (p. 96).
The chemical study performed at La Joyita was designed to identify activity
areas on the living floors. The analysis relied on 89 soil samples, which were examined
for their content of carbonates, phosphates and fatty acids, as well as pH levels and
protein residues (p. 97). The activity areas detected in one structure at La Joyita through
the chemical study of soils showed organic remains of phosphate and protein residues.
Chemical evidence was concentrated around a pit in the center of the structure, which
was interpreted as a place where some sort of offering was deposited, or perhaps a
burial. This feature could also have been an altar or some other ritual element, as there
may have been remains of human blood as evidence of some sort of ceremony. In
another area of the floor, high readings of protein residues were obtained, as well as
high phosphate and pH values, so this area could have been devoted to food preparation
or consumption, in addition to the domestic rituals mentioned above (p. 99).
As mentioned above, the architecture of the Teuchitlán tradition is well-known
for circular arrangements, ball game courts (Jay 1998) and other monumental examples
of public architecture (Weigand 2011a), but the way in which local people lived has
escaped the attention of archaeologists. This applies even more to the ritual aspects of
household activities, and other more mundane aspects of life. In her study of vernacular
architecture in ancient Xaltocan, a Postclassic village in the Basin of Mexico, Kristin de
Lucia (2017a) called attention to the fact that ‘when archaeologists excavate houses,
they uncover a snapshot in time —a final moment in a history of development and
change. But like households, houses cannot be easily defined; they are the culmination
of many moments of action, interaction, decision-making, and decay’ (p. 158). De Lucia
also points out that ‘vernacular architecture is not the product of a single architect, but is
the result of all the individuals living in and modifying the space each day’ (p. 158).
Much more work is needed on both households and domestic constructed spaces
(Figure 75) before we can begin a meaningful discussion about the lifeway of the
Teuchitlán and other cultures of ancient Mesoamerica; but Herrejón’s research is
certainly an encouraging first step in this direction.
Many domestic activities in Mesoamerica relied on obsidian, a volcanic glass
that was the primary source of tools like scrapers, blades, knives and projectile points,
 222

among others. No household could do without obsidian, so procuring this commodity

and producing tools and other utensils with it became a strategic aspect of both the
political and domestic economy. The area of central Jalisco where the core of the
Teuchitlán tradition was located holds one of the richest sources of obsidian in all of
Mesoamerica (Weigand et al. 2004; Esparza 2016; Heredia and Mireles 2016; Wagner
2016). Apparently, the most convincing indicator of monopolistic control of a source in
Western Mexico comes from Teuchitlán and its obsidian quarries at La Mora, Jalisco
(Weigand et al. 2004). However, we should bear in mind that this obsidian is found in
contemporary sites in such a way that suggests it was obtained directly from the source
itself, rather than through Teuchitlán workshops (Healan 2011a:200).
Weigand et al. (2004) wrote the following about obsidian: ‘For virtually all
participants within the Mesoamerican ecumene, obsidian was a resource of critical
importance for making artifacts. Obsidian was a substance with a great relevance within
the economic and ceremonial sphere of ancient Mesoamerica. Because obsidian has a
limited distribution, and the high-quality sources are even more limited, the disparity
between access and control of sources naturally had sociocultural consequences’ (p.
113).
John Wagner (2016) carried out a comparative study between semi-peripheral
and core economies via the obsidian artifacts found in ritual structures at two Teuchitlán
sites –Navajas and Llano Grande– in order to determine whether lithic assemblages at
the latter site show a greater emphasis on production over use contexts than those at
Navajas. Wagner also explored whether Llano Grande shows evidence for a greater
emphasis on the production of potential trade items than Navajas, including commonly-
exported forms, known elite items, or items that required specialized production
techniques.
Wagner concluded that ‘the much greater density of worked obsidian, greater
orientation towards production over internal use, and increase in core preparation at
Llano Grande relative to Navajas all point to a likelihood of increased production for
trade’ (p. 100). However, his data could also indicate that ‘Llano Grande apparently had
a multi-faceted obsidian industry’, though ‘our understanding of much of the lithic
activity beyond core preparation and export remains unclear’ (p. 100). Regarding the
secondary use of flakes at the Llano Grande site, Wagner points out that the very large
quantity of debitage suggests the existence of workshops that produced additional
products. The economic nature of production activities for these secondary items
 223

remains unclear. Several other strategic resources were also likely more abundant in the
semi-peripheral hills than the core area, and obsidian tools would have been essential
for processing all such resources; for instance, local flora or fauna. Agave plants, for
one, may well have been exploited in prehistoric times as they are today.
Verenice Heredia conducted a study of pre-Hispanic agave production in the
Teuchitlán core area (Heredia and Mireles 2016) that relied on site survey, surface
sampling and ethnohistorical information on agave exploitation in the Basin of Mexico.
her objective was to construct a model for analogy and archaeological interpretation.
Heredia’s study highlights the diverse nature of scraper forms in the study area, and a
spatial distribution suggestive of distinct functions. Heredia and Mireles point out that,
while much current research discusses obsidian scrapers in connection with the
exploitation of maguey for sap, fibers or other products, the known diagnostic
characteristics of scrapers used to work maguey occurred in only one-fifth of their
sample. Therefore, their diverse assemblage may include scrapers used for a multiplicity
of tasks. They believe that scrapers manufactured for specific purposes must differ and
that these differences will be visible in the assemblages and their spatial distribution and
thus point to diversification at the regional level.
Obsidian was so precious that it was not used only for tool-making. A well-
developed industry existed throughout Mesoamerica that produced all sorts of figurines,
masks, ritual vessels and jewelry. The latter is documented by Rodrigo Esparza (2016)
in his study of obsidian production in the Teuchitlán tradition. Esparza describes many
items of personal adornment made with multi-colored obsidian.
The Late Formative period saw another important cultural manifestation, known
as the Chupícuaro tradition, which flourished in the Bajío lowlands of Guanajuato and
adjoining areas of West Mexico, as mentioned in Chapter II. Fortunately, for this period
we have a broader data base that permits systematic comparisons with other areas of
Mesoamerica, including not just ceramic styles but other cultural manifestations as well,
including settlement patterns, subsistence strategies and social stratification, among
other elements, even though Chupícuaro itself –the best-known site for this period,
located in the southeastern area of the Lerma River Basin– was destroyed when a dam
was built in the area in 1949.
According to Beatriz Braniff (1999:33) the Bajío is a region of river and lake
basins that were interconnected in the past. These lands were often inundated totally or
in part, thus offering inhabitants many aquatic resources. As in the Basin of Mexico,
 224

these large-sized lakes provided all kinds of aquatic foods (fish, amphibians, reptiles,
insects, water fowl, and plants, etcetera). They were also used as navigation routes and
may have allowed the exploitation of agricultural systems like the “raised fields” of the
Maya area or the chinampas of central Mexico.
The people of Chupícuaro built few structures, seldom more elaborate than
simple houses made of wattle-and-daub with earthen floors and a few stone-lined
drains. According to Braniff (1989), the few extant examples of civic architecture
pertaining to this archaeological complex are found in southern Guanajuato. Consisting
of rectangular platforms with superimposed constructions that remind us of those at
Tlapacoya in the Valley of Mexico, one structure shows a four-sided geometric pattern,
though one side is missing. The building could certainly be considered monumental,
since its sides measure between 80 and 120 m. There is also a circular pyramid in
Chupícuaro, as well as another circular structure in nearby Salvatierra, Guanajuato
(Braniff 1989:108).
Chupícuaro was a habitation site, as shown by the presence of manos and
metates (grinding stones) that reflect the common method for processing maize.
Hunting was probably also important, though stone artifacts or weapons were not
abundant. Apparently, life for the region’s inhabitants was not devoid of strife, as
indicated by the discovery of ‘trophy skulls’; i.e., decapitated skeletons and burials of
isolated skulls at the site (Porter Weaver 1969:8).
The Chupícuaro ceramic tradition is one of the best-known in Mesoamerica. It
includes anthropomorphic figurines decorated with geometric motifs (Figure 76), as
well as vessels in a great variety of shapes, including unusual forms such as the ‘stirrup-
spout’ (Figure 77). Chupícuaro culture played a very important role in central Mexico’s
Tezoyuca or Cuicuilco IV phase (ca. 200-100 BC), and its influence in the Valley of
Mexico is evidenced by large amounts of figurines of the ‘H-4’ (Figure 78) and ‘slant-
eyed’ (Figure 79) types, as well as the aforementioned polychrome vessels. Chupícuaro
exerted great pressure on the Basin of Mexico, perhaps even contributing to the collapse
of Cuicuilco (Porter Weaver 1969:9). The Chupícuaro occupation of this area of the
Bajío (i.e., the mid-Lerma River Basin, in present-day Guanajuato) probably ended
around the beginning of the Christian era, although the Red-on-Buff ceramic tradition
that persisted in the much later ‘Toltec horizon’ preserved some motifs, styles and
techniques that are remarkably similar to those of Chupícuaro, though applied on
objects of different shapes (Porter Weaver 1969:14; see also Braniff 1972, 2000).
 225

Chupícuaro-style pottery has been found over a very wide area of Mesoamerica, from
La Quemada, Zacatecas in the north, to Gualupita, Morelos, in the south (McBride
1969:33).
The Lerma River forms a natural corridor between central and Western Mexico.
Because this river offers a well-defined and easily navigable line of communication, it is
reasonable to suppose that initial settlements in the Lerma basin were located on the
margins of the river itself. In addition to easy communications, the tributary streams
presented a unique ecological niche, one well-suited for agriculture (Florance 1985:43).
Another quality of this river that may have attracted settlers was its potential for
agricultural works, such as raised fields surrounded by water in shallow marshes or
lakes, since this meandering river covered vast areas with alluvial deposits that created a
series of wetland environments (Boehm 1988).
The occupation of the Lerma basin during the late-to-terminal Formative period
was based on a sedentary, agricultural way of life. After considering the environmental
factors, there is no doubt that the village sites were chosen for their proximity to micro-
niches where agricultural productivity could be maximized and agronomic risks
minimized (Florance 1989:565).
Comparisons of late Formative settlements in southwestern Guanajuato with
those in the Basin of Mexico reveal that the smallest type of site in the basin –modest
hamlets and single family loci– predominated in this part of Western Mexico. Formative
settlements in southwestern Guanajuato, far from representing a dominant cultural
system in the region, were simple farming hamlets with little sociopolitical complexity.
They can be understood as components of an autochthonous cultural system centered on
one of the lake basins associated with the Bajío (Florance 1989:683-685; Braniff 1989).
It has not been easy to establish a chronology for Chupícuaro because of the
paucity of stratigraphic excavations and reliable radiocarbon dates in the area. Recent
excavations at the site of La Tronera, near the town of Puruagüita, Guanajuato, have
provided new data suggesting a date around 400 BC-AD 200 for this archaeological
tradition (Darras and Faugère 2005: 255).
Archaeological work undertaken in 1998 in the Acámbaro Valley (Guanajuato)
by Darras and Faugère (2007) has allowed a better understanding of settlement patterns,
architecture, funerary customs, and economy in this region of the Bajío. The first traces
of occupation are placed around 500 BC, during the Early Chupícuaro phase, while the
 226

following archaeological phases are called Late Chupícuaro (400-100 BC) and Mixtlán
(100 BC-AD 200).
Lithic materials in this part of the Bajío include local traditions that used
obsidian, chalcedony, andesite, basalt and dacite to manufacture blades and slabs. The
slab industry (mainly andesite and basalt) was highly-developed and could be linked to
the exploitation of aquatic resources. Darras and Faugère (2007) also found an abundant
bone industry that persisted throughout the Late Formative period. They further point
out (2010) that the recent discovery of shaft tombs in the Chupícuaro region has revived
discussions concerning possible links between the Chupícuaro people and their
neighbors elsewhere in Western Mexico. Excavations near Acámbaro discovered four
tombs with shafts with one, two or three steps, leading to a burial chamber containing a
single primary burial. Both the stratigraphy and radiocarbon dates obtained from two of
these internments suggest a date within the Late Chupícuaro phase, or ca. 400-100 BC.
Faugère and Darras (2016) found 22 burials in their excavations in the
Chupícuaro area (Figure 80), but only seven had an identifiable morphology. The
burials were dated to the Late Chupícuaro phase (ca. 400-100/50 BC). The skeletons
and offerings were deposited in pit graves, classified in four types: simple pit, covered
with stones, in a niche, and with a shaft. The tombs at sites JR24 and JR74 were found
inside circular constructions consisting of stone alignments. Most of the burials
appeared associated with hearths. Some hearths were made of clay slabs in a circular or
quadrangular shape, while others consisted of combustion zones characterized by layers
of ash and charcoal (p. 41).
Among the funerary offerings found at Chupícuaro there are many bone
artifacts. The catalog of Chupícuaro objects in the National Museum of Anthropology
(Mexico City) (Flores 1992) says that all bone objects in the museum collection are
from animals, and some have been identified as deer metapoidal bones. Among the
worked pieces there are some striated bones which may have been used as musical
instruments (rasps), as well as awls of different thickness and length, and needles which
in some cases have an eye for inserting thread. Some of these bone tools could have
been used for knitting fishnets or weaving reed baskets. This interpretation would be in
line with an aquatic environment such as the one described in 16th-century accounts.
The Relación de la Provincia de Acámbaro (ca. 1580), for instance, states that
Acámbaro means ‘place of maguey’… the disposition is cool, usually dry,
although in some parts, because of two big rivers that flow through this
 227

province, there is some humidity. This province is drier than others… All the
land is quite flat, with many low, fertile lands… there are many groves of spiny
trees called huizaches which give a fruit that is sustenance for Indians and for
cattle. This province has many water sources, and is surrounded by two
abundant rivers with plentiful fish called bagres [catfish]. This is very fertile
land, with many grasses for all kinds of cattle, as well as wheat, barley, maize,
Spanish fruits and other native seeds with which the natives support themselves.
Therefore it is very bountiful in resources (Acuña 1987:59-60).

Elsewhere in the Relación, we read that the local population ‘were subjects of
the Lord of Michoacán, and he sent people to rule the part pertaining to the Tarascans,
because the Otomíes and Chichimecs were ruled by lords who were from their own
nation’ (p. 63). The description of the aquatic landscape that predominated in this area
of the Bajío from the Relación reads as follows: ‘Near the houses of this town of
Acámbaro there is a very big and deep river [surrounded by] great groves of trees called
sabinos [i.e. Mexican cypress, Juniperus sp.]… Another river, no less important than
the one mentioned before, flows by a… town called Apatzeo… the natives of the town
use the river for irrigation of their lands’ (p. 65). We also discover that ‘in a… town
called Iramoco there is a lake with 30 leagues in circumference… in which fish are
plentiful… There are hills with oaks and pines, where they extract wood for
construction’ (p. 66). The following animals were found in this region: ‘Mountain lions,
coyotes, wolves, deer, hares and rabbits in great quantity. There are native chickens,
quails and chickens from Castile’ (p. 67). Other natural resources mentioned in the
Relación are ‘a weed for making añil (indigo), lime quarries, and the locals found all the
salt they need in a town called Araró, at two leagues from this cabecera’ (i.e. head
town) (p. 67). Two illustrations from the early Colonial period also describe the aquatic
environment that dominated the Bajío region before it was transformed in more recent
times. One appears in the Pintura de Celaya y Acámbaro (ca. 1580) (Acuña 1987: Plate
1) (Figure 81), the other in the Pintura de San Miguel Maravatío (ca. 1727) (Sánchez
and Boehm 2005: Figure 2) (Figure 82).
One aspect of Chupícuaro culture that has been investigated by Florance (2000)
is the relationship between the peoples of Chupícuaro and the Basin of Mexico.
Florance has written that ‘a crucial part of the interpretation of the connection between
West Mexico and the Basin of Mexico in the Late and Terminal Preclassic hinges on the
 228

body of material culture found in… southern Guanajuato’ (p. 21). Florance holds that
‘the… [Chupícuaro] settlements in southeastern Guanajuato could be viewed as both
heartland and periphery as spatial and temporal scales change’. The analysis of burials
from the El Rayo cemetery site and field data from the survey of the Puroagüita area,
both near the Chupícuaro original village, ‘suggest the arrival of a colonial population…
These settlements lie along the Río Lerma channel’. This river ‘provided the corridor
along which those colonial populations moved and along which they communicated
with one another. Population densities were low… the colonial populations moving
along the Río Lerma were coming from the west rather than from the Basin of Mexico’
(p. 28).
The archaeological survey conducted by Florance around the town of Puroagüita
‘identified surface features at sites… [with] circular mounds… it is highly probable that
those mounds contained burials’ (p. 28). Regarding external relationships between this
area and the Basin of Mexico, Florance said that the site of Cuicuilco is ‘of particular
interest for the Late and Terminal Preclassic of western and central Mexico … the final
phase of the Late Preclassic is followed by a period of dramatic change in the
distribution of settlements and population there… the initiation of these changes can be
attributed to influences external to the basin, that is, Chupícuaro’ (p. 29). Cuicuilco was
the preeminent polity in the Basin of Mexico by the end of the Late Formative (ca. 300
BC), and continued in this position until its zenith in the Terminal Formative, when an
eruption of the Xitle volcano (discussed below) disrupted its agricultural base (p. 30).
The question of heartland versus periphery in the southeastern Guanajuato region during
the Chupícuaro phase is also addressed by Florance: ‘At a regional scale… the
Chupícuaro phase settlements may be thought of as a heartland development… Many
discontinuous settlements are aggregated together in a particularly favorable zone… a
small alluvial basin formed by the confluence of three arroyos’ (p. 31).
The area around Puroagüita included in Florance’s survey ‘is favorably located
in terms of both its local environment and its strategic position along the Río Lerma, a
major route of intra- and interregional communication. During the Chupícuaro phase,
local leaders were in a position to enhance their prestige among their followers by
gaining access to the Basin of Mexico economy and its political system elite’ (p. 31).
Having outlined these aspects, in the section that follows we turn our attention to the
subject of relationships between the cultures of West Mexico and the Basin of Mexico
and surrounding areas during the Formative period.
 229

Cultural Relations between West and Central Mexico in the Formative

In the early 1940s, George Vaillant (1962) wrote that ‘the first agricultural peoples of
whom we have a record in the Valley of Mexico’ lived during the Pre-Classic (or
Formative) period, ‘probably as early as 1500 BC’. They lived in permanent villages,
subsisted chiefly on the products of their fields, and made useful implements of stone,
bone, and clay. Indeed, the Valley of Mexico was a superb place to live at that time. At
seven thousand feet above sea level, high mountain chains surrounded a fertile basin in
which lay several lakes, one salty, the other four all fresh-water bodies, accompanied by
a slow-flowing stream in the northeast, known as the Acolman River. The lakes were
shallow and their marshy shores, thick with reeds, attracted teeming flocks of wild fowl.
On the wooded mountain slopes, deer and many other animals also abounded, while
along the lakeshores thick alluvial deposits were ideal for year-round agriculture (pp.
49-50).
According to Miguel Covarrubias (1957), the antiquity of the Formative cultures
of the Basin of Mexico came as a revelation with the discovery of burials under a thick
layer of lava at the quarry of Copilco on the outskirts of Mexico City. This site had
pavements of river boulders, rows of stones, decorated pots and bowls, clay figurines,
metates and obsidian projectile points, ‘all buried as offerings in a cemetery that was
already ancient at the time of the eruption of the Xitle volcano, whose lava covered a
part of the valley thousands of years ago’ (p. 14).
Blanton et al. (1981) tell us that the Basin of Mexico sits atop the central
highlands of Mexico. In pre-Hispanic times, it formed an internal drainage system
extended over an area of roughly 7,000 square kilometers. Before the Spanish
engineered a drainage canal, the basin was a closed hydrographic unit in which the
water that flowed down from the mountains fed a series of shallow, marshy
interconnected lakes covering an area of around 1,000 km2. This system represented a
unique set of resources in Mesoamerica for hunting, gathering, intensive farming and
waterborne transportation. Aquatic resources there included many kinds of fish, insect
larvae, reeds and waterfowl. It is highly-likely that the lakeshore areas were rather
swampy and subject to flooding (p. 111).
During the Middle Formative (ca. 1000-800 BC) in the western Basin of
Mexico, the site of Tlatilco had some evidence of regional importance. Excavations
 230

there ‘have produced an impressive array of elaborate grave goods. As the site is now
largely buried under a suburb of Mexico City and a cement factory, however, we will
probably never know its population size, or be able to assess its regional significance in
political or economic terms’ (p. 116).
Diehl (2004) discussed the rise and spread of this archaeological complex: ‘By
1200 the Tlatilco culture began to emerge in certain favored locales in the Basin of
Mexico and adjacent areas. At that time the Basin of Mexico was a rich, well-watered
highland valley with forested hillsides, deep fertile soils, and many streams that fed
shallow marshes and lakes on its floor… Tlatilco-culture sites flourished during the
Early Formative period’ (p. 153). This archaeological culture was distinguished from its
predecessors ‘by the presence of large villages that served as capitals of small
chiefdoms, multi-tiered settlement systems, hierarchical social structures, religious
specialists, community- and regional-level economic specializations, and long-distance
exchange’ (p. 153). The archaeological markers of Tlatilco culture include a rich
ceramic repertoire of both utilitarian and ritual pottery vessels (Figure 83), human and
animal effigy figurines (Figures 84 and 85), masks, and other exotic ritual objects, all
of which appear in elaborate burials. The village of Tlatilco covered a 65-ha (160-acre)
area on top of a hill near Lake Texcoco, a location that afforded easy access to fertile
land where wild plants, terrestrial game, migratory birds and lacustrine resources were
available year-round (p. 154).
Most houses at this site had sand or trampled-earth floors, with hearths marked
with stones, while the walls were made of wattle and daub, smoothed and occasionally
painted red. There were numerous subterranean bell-shaped storage pits around the
houses and clay-surfaced earth platforms that may have supported elite residences,
temples, or other special-purpose buildings.
The food remains identified at Tlatilco included many plants: ‘Maize, beans,
amaranth, squash, and prickly pear’, while ‘the list of animals that may have contributed
to the local diet is quite extensive… including… mud turtle, ducks and geese, turkey,
pelican, American coot, crane, hare, rabbits, ground squirrel, gopher, dog, white-tailed
deer, pronghorn antelope, and peccary’ (p. 156).
In terms of burials, the deceased were normally laid to rest in an extended supine
position in crude pits beneath, or adjacent to, their homes. Most burials included modest
offerings of pottery vessels, figurines and other objects, but a few collections were
much more lavish than others. These must have pertained to higher-status individuals,
 231

who entered the afterlife accompanied by pots that may have held food, figurines,
obsidian projectile points and personal ornaments. In one case reported by Diehl (2004),
a burial held the remains of a male who may have been a shaman, since all the objects
placed with him were likely part of a magician’s ‘power bundle’, including clay
sculptures of mushrooms, quartz, graphite, pitch and other exotic materials that could
have been used in curing rituals (p. 157).
According to García Moll et al. (1989), both ‘the level of sophistication and the
formalization of the funerary cult at Tlatilco have impressed specialists so much that
this site has been characterized as a great cemetery. However, this idea begins to lose
credibility as soon as we consider that the corpus of information recovered by
archaeologists includes not just burials with associated objects, but also living floors,
postholes, storage pits, hearths, grinding tools, and trash middens with the remains of
animals consumed at the site (pp. 237-238).
Alejandro Pastrana (2018) conducted a geo-archaeological study at the
Formative village site of Cuicuilco. Despite the fact that Cuicuilco is such a famous
figure in the prehistory of the Basin of Mexico, Pastrana says it is not a well-known
archaeological site, because most of its surface is covered by lava flows from the Xitle
volcano (p. 46). Those volcanic materials erupted from the northern flank of the Ajusco
mountain, and the rivers of molten lava filled up a depression over 70 km2 in extension
(p. 47).
Pastrana came to the conclusion that ‘before the lava flows surrounded the main
pyramid, air-borne volcanic ash emanating from the Xitle volcano –and other volcanic
features nearby–ruined the agricultural fields, as well as the water sources and the
perishable structures of Cuicuilco and nearby rural settlements such as Copilco. The
volcanic materials also started fires in the forests’ (p. 48).
Recent C-14 dates obtained from plant material burned by lava complemented
by stratigraphic studies between the Xitle volcano and the Cuicuilco site area suggest
that the great eruption occurred ca. 1670 BP. These new dates also show that ‘both
Cuicuilco and Teotihuacan coexisted during the Tlamimilolpa phase (from AD 200 or
350 to 400), when the great urban center of Teotihuacan was in full development’ (p.
50). This fact runs counter to the traditional idea that people from Cuicuilco had
migrated to Teotihuacan after the eruption and preceded the cultural development of
that great city. Pastrana’s geo-archaeological research concluded that ‘the analysis of
the volcanological information together with the stratigraphy of the Xitle eruption, as
 232

well as Cuicuilco’s archaeological materials, allow us to understand a little-known

archaeological site, composed of ceremonial architecture, a network of agricultural
works consisting of chinampas, and other forms of irrigation in a rich alluvial and
lacustrine landscape’ (p. 55).
Florencia Müller (1990) added to our knowledge of this site with her complete
report on the pottery found at Cuicuilco. She says that Chupícuaro material there
includes vessels with geometric motifs and a white band over the outer rim, while the
rest of the piece is painted red (p. 60). Müller defined the diagnostic markers for
Chupícuaro presence at Cuicuilco by describing two traditions found there, one of local
Basin of Mexico origin, another pertaining to Chupícuaro. The latter included the
complete range of ceramic forms considered diagnostic of the ‘Chupícuaro style’ from
southern Guanajuato (p. 228).
Felipe Ramírez (2018), director of the Cuicuilco Archaeological Project (INAH),
says that ‘between ca. 600 and 200 BC, some features of the Chupícuaro tradition begin
to appear at Cuicuilco, such as… H-4 figurines, while figurines of the following types:
O-H, H3, and J appear at ca. 400-200 BC. Around 200-150 BC the Chupícuaro tradition
is still present at Cuicuilco, although the H-4 figurines are smaller. Finally, by ca. 150-
100 BC Chupícuaro materials diminish at Cuicuilco, and then disappear from the scene’
(p. 42).
The spread of an Olmec-based artistic tradition in the Basin of Mexico and the
rest of Mesoamerica was studied by Miguel Covarrubias (1957), who traced the
development of the iconographic complex derived from an original Olmec prototype,
the ‘snarling jaguar’, and its evolution into different rain deities in central and southern
Mesoamerica (Figure 86).
David Grove (1974), meanwhile, has analyzed the spread of the Olmec style,
which appears ‘in far different geographical and ecological settings throughout
Mesoamerica… the Olmec style [is] particularly abundant in the central Mexico
[region]… where the archaeological manifestation has received the term “highland
Olmec”… although unfortunately the large majority of pieces are from illicit
excavations, thus yielding little in the way of archaeological data’ (p. 109). Grove goes
on to argue that,
there remains some confusion among archaeologists as to just what ‘highland
Olmec’ is or isn’t, and so… I would like to present my analysis of the
situation… In the Gulf Coast we are viewing a constantly evolving cultural
 233

tradition. This means that in areas outside the Gulf Coast, where Olmec style
artifacts are present, they can no longer be viewed as simply evidence of an
Olmec archaeological horizon… Olmec style artifacts occur in quantity in the
highlands… [but] the ‘Olmecness’ of the ‘highland Olmec’ manifestation is
seldom seriously questioned… I for one am skeptical over how much of
‘highland Olmec’ is truly representative of Gulf Coast influences or
relationships (p. 110).

Grove believes that ‘there is a trend toward identifying many non-Olmec

artifacts as “highland Olmec”, a trend which has distorted and biased our archaeological
perspective… much of the “highland Olmec” is not Olmec at all’ (p. 111). This problem
is compounded by the fact that ‘there is not simply one archaeological manifestation
which can be termed “highland Olmec”, for the nature of the manifestation varies
regionally and chronologically. It in fact seems doubtful that there is any highland
archaeological complex… that… warrants the designation Olmec in the same manner as
the Formative culture of the Gulf Coast’ (p. 124).
Furthermore, in Grove’s opinion, ‘certain highland sites were probably
important commercial centers as well as religious centers. The most reasonable current
explanation as to the substance involved in this trade network is obsidian… Other items
such as cotton, food plants, cacao, etcetera, while possibly also quite important, are
none the less harder to discern in the archaeological record’ (p. 125). Grove came to the
conclusion that the people of Tlatilco were autonomous and culturally independent from
the Gulf Coast (Figure 87), but interacted with the Olmecs by participating in trade
networks that carried, in addition to obsidian, worked jade which passed through
Morelos and Chalcatzingo on its way from stone-working centers in Guerrero to the
Gulf Coast.
Grove (2009) further points out that ‘sites pertaining to the Tlatilco culture
appear in the Valley of Mexico, in northern Guerrero, and in the southeastern state of
Mexico’, and then asks: ‘But what is the relationship between Tlatilco culture with
other areas of Mesoamerica?... most authors only consider interaction with one area: the
Gulf Coast and the Olmec’ (p. 317).
The Tlatilco culture region –Morelos and the Valley of Mexico– is regarded as
part of Mesoamerica during the Preclassic, but West Mexico is often excluded from this
cultural area by some authors. ‘The reason… seems to be… due to favoritism toward
 234

the Olmec… Since when the criteria for being Mesoamerican included a certain ceramic
style, or that vague concept of “Olmec influences”? Kirchhoff included West Mexico as
part of Mesoamerica… current archaeological data show evidence that West Mexico
had all the Mesoamerican elements in the Preclassic period’ (p. 319).
Grove sums up his opinion with the following statement:
My viewpoint about Mesoamerica during the Preclassic (and the Classic as well)
is like a family which has three precocious daughters. One of them lives in the
south, and is a magnificent sculptor who makes beautiful stone objects; the
second daughter lives in the highlands, and becomes a magnificent architect…
The third daughter lives in the west, but people have ignored her because ‘she
doesn’t look like a member of the family’. But how many of our sons are like
each other or develop in the same way? Surely the third daughter… has all the
important features of the family and is important on her own right, because she
used her creativity to produce fabulous ceramic pieces, and that is her distinctive
mark. She was a magnificent potter who interacted with her two sisters, actively
contributing to her family through time. Each daughter was different, but all
three were an important part of the Mesoamerican family in the Preclassic period
(p. 320).
Regarding cultural relationships between West Mexico and the Basin of Mexico
in the Formative period, Florance has stated that ‘there is a substantial archaeological
evidence of Basin of Mexico presence in southeastern Guanajuato during the
Chupícuaro phase’. This fact ‘begs the question whether or not that presence can be
found in other regions of West Mexico’ (p. 31). Meanwhile in Michoacán, Oliveros
(2004) has described many figurines and ceramic vessels in the tombs of El Opeño, all
with clear affinities with the Basin of Mexico Formative.
Discussing interaction between Capacha culture and central Mexico, Kelly
(1980) mentions that the Capacha material culture showed similarities with some of the
features of the Tlatilco style, such as black-on-gray monochrome ceramic decoration,
stirrup pots, and ‘a general resemblance in cántaros, ollas, incurved bowls, and
pinched-rim bowls’ (p. 33). Moreover, Kelly discussed the Capacha figurines, which in
her opinion show ‘stronger resemblance to Tlatilco-style examples from Morelos than
to cognate specimens from the site of Tlatilco, and a closer similarity to Morelos
products than to those of El Opeño phase’ (pp. 33-34). In conclusion, Kelly said that
‘Capacha is Capacha. It is not Mesoamerican, yet not quite South American… It has its
 235

own special features, such as the highly distinctive sunburst ornament in incision and
punctuation. Its peculiar stirrup pots, usually trifid, and with “elbowed” tubes, are
unique’ (p. 37). Regarding the figurines from Capacha, Kelly thought that they ‘bear
little resemblance to… [El] Opeño specimens… although some are reminiscent of
certain Tlatilco-style figures from Morelos’ (p. 37).
As we saw previously, Mountjoy’s (2012) research on the coast of Jalisco has
uncovered new data on the presence of cultures from the Basin of Mexico, such as
Tlatilco, in this part of West Mexico. Mountjoy sees few similarities between the
coastal sites of Los Comanjales and Los Añiles and Tlatilco, but suggestive
resemblances with El Pantano: ‘Comparing the ceramic items from Tlatilco with those
from El Pantano… both sites have an emphasis on the bottle [and] the pumpkin-shaped
body’. Also present at both areas are ‘the gourd-like shape… the flat bottom… stirrup-
spout… [and] a bottle resting on the rim of an olla or vase’ (p. 193). The similarities
include possibly phallic bottles found at both Tlatilco and El Pantano, as well as
zoomorphic bottles or other vessels, again found at both sites. Regarding pottery
decoration, Mountjoy says there are similarities between Tlatilco and Los Comanjales,
Los Añiles and El Pantano, such as the use of incised decoration in triangles and other
designs, as well as raised lines, spikes, and other forms of appliqué decoration.
Anthropomorphic figurines, however, are not at all similar between Tlatilco and the
coast of Jalisco (p. 194).
The lithic assemblages from Los Comanjales, Los Añiles and El Pantano share
some artifact types with Tlatilco: ‘The first thing that stands out are the stone smoothing
or burnishing artifacts of trapezoidal shape’ and some obsidian projectile points of the
‘Tlatilco’ and ‘Shumla’ types.
In summary, Mountjoy regards the similarities between the coastal sites
mentioned above and Tlatilco as including the following features: (1) small-scale
farming villages located in the piedmont, with an aquatic orientation; (2) the use of
bottles –some of compound shape– and pots with stirrup-spouts, phallic attributes and
zoomorphic shape; (3) certain pottery decoration techniques, such as zonal punching,
parallel lines, and raised lines in appliqué; (4) projectile points of the ‘Tlatilco’ and
‘Shumla’ types; (5) stone artifacts, such as trapeze-like pottery polishers made of stone,
and green stone pendants; and finally (6) anthropomorphic shell pendants (p. 194).
According to Mountjoy, these similarities appear to indicate contacts of at least an
indirect nature, as part of a network of relationships in the Middle Formative that
 236

spanned an extensive area stretching from Guatemala to West Mexico, the Basin of
Mexico and beyond.
Final Remarks
The first conclusion at which we can arrive on the basis of the information presented in
this chapter is that West Mexico did indeed participate in the social and cultural life of
the Mesoamerican ecumene since the Formative period. We can tell this by the
abundant archaeological evidence of interaction, for instance the pottery styles –vessels
and figurines– from the West that appear in the Basin of Mexico, and vice versa, and
figurine styles that originated in sites in central Mexico such as Tlatilco, and reappear in
El Opeño, Capacha, and other archaeological cultures such as Chupícuaro.
Faugere et al. (2016) address the issue of communication between the Bajío and
the Basin of Mexico during the Late Formative. Because of its location east of the Bajío
lowlands and its proximity to the Lerma River, the Acámbaro Valley has always been
considered an important corridor linking western and central Mexico. Since the 1930s,
archaeologists working in the Basin of Mexico have observed the presence of foreign
materials originating in El Bajío; more precisely, Chupícuaro ceramic vessels and
figurines (Florance 2000). Various hypotheses have been proposed to account for the
possible relations between these two regions in different periods, all of which mention
possible physical contact and trade. Recent excavations at various sites in the Acámbaro
Valley have confirmed the presence of materials from the central highlands during the
Classic period. After the decline of the Chupícuaro culture around AD 100, the presence
of Teotihuacan is manifested in several places around the valley, as well as in the
Cuitzeo basin and the Zinapécuaro-Ucareo area (Hernández 2016).
The items shared between the aforementioned regions are the result of far-flung
exchange networks between West Mexico and other parts of Mesoamerica, primarily
the Basin of Mexico. Many of the trade items pertain to the elite sector of society, such
as precious shells, green stones and other rare or strategic substances. According to
Chase and Chase (1992), most students of Mesoamerican culture associate the use of
the word ‘elite’ with ‘the rich, powerful, and privileged in any society… and correlate
elites with a wide array of material remains… However… elites may also be seen as
those who run society’s institutions… Under this definition, elites are not necessarily
characterized by luxury goods and other items found in the archaeological record;
rather, the elite would be those who managed the political, economic, social, and
religious institutions’ (p. 3). Elites are generally defined in the archaeological literature
 237

‘on the basis of their access to luxury goods… their presumed association with more
elaborate architecture… and their… sumptuous treatment in death’ (p. 4).
Members of the elite are often seen as the sector of society that regulated ‘the
systems of production and distribution of all… items, whether luxury or utilitarian…
The possession of luxury goods is viewed as having been a sign of wealth and prestige
in Precolumbian society… It is reasonable to assume that most decorated objects were
the possessions of the elite and… the possession of such objects has served to define an
aristocratic class that is termed elite’ (p. 5). Chase and Chase state that ‘the distribution,
production, and ownership of these items is often conceived of as being entirely elite
controlled… Luxury goods include, among other things, jade… pyrite mirrors…
imported pottery… sea shells… and stingray spines… Such items are thought to be
accessible to the elite and perhaps a small group of retainers, probably composing well
under 10 percent of… society’ (p. 5).
What is considered to be an elite or luxury item, however, often differs from one
culture to another: ‘At Preclassic Chalcatzingo, ceramic figurines and obsidian tools
were both interpreted as elite-associated goods; they were either representative of the
elite in and of themselves or were viewed as being produced under elite direction… as
were the production and distribution of greenstone and iron ore’. In the Maya area,
meanwhile, ‘elaborate polychrome pottery is often interpreted as representing an elite
good’ (p. 5).
Kowalewski et al. (1992) have pointed out that the term ‘elite’ as currently
understood in anthropology and other disciplines, is quite limited for archaeologists.
The word elite refers to individuals and groups who have the power or authority to
control or influence major social institutions. But in the opinion of Kowalewski et al.,
archaeological methods can seldom identify people who control institutions. Likewise,
archaeologists cannot say much about how ancient elites operated. Archaeology cannot
fully identify the elite sector of society because the elements we are able to observe in
the field, museum or laboratory differ greatly from the social relationships of elite
behavior (pp. 259- 260). Therefore, we have to approach the question of elite behavior
using indirect approaches; that is, by studying the archaeological record and at the same
time incorporating ethnographic and ethnohistorical data to complement the
archaeological information.
One cultural trait that was shared between the elites of West Mexico and the rest
of Mesoamerica had to do with the funerary customs. The treatment accorded to the
 238

deceased from the higher social echelons differed from the burial practices and funerary
rituals performed for people from the lower classes. Chase and Chase (1992) tell us that
‘in death the elite are presumed to be more elaborately treated than non-elite members
of society. The expenditure of effort that went into any burial rite, as represented in the
size of the associated grave or chamber and the rites associated with the interment, has
been used as a worldwide indicator of status’. This is true for the shaft tombs of West
Mexico and the rich burials of chieftains from the Basin of Mexico and beyond there
into, and throughout, central and southern Mesoamerica.
Often the location of the tomb or grave within an archaeological site ‘provides a
clue as to the status of the individual… [and] the contents of the grave are used to
provide data relevant to the status and role that the individual may have had in life…
certain elaborately painted pottery vessels were produced only for elite burial and…
their production served to bind together royal lineages from various sites’ (p. 5).
In practice, however, ‘the archaeological identification of elites is often based on the
possession of specific artifact types or traits, the association with certain constructions
and architectural groups, skeletal indicators of health and stature, and internment in
certain locations and types of graves’ (p. 6).
Chase and Chase believe that, although there are many difficulties for ‘the
archaeological identification of elites in Mesoamerica… the traditional interpretations
based on ethnohistory point in all areas to the existence of two basic classes of people
—nobles and commoners… [and] most archaeologists would see the ruling elite… as
being less than 5 percent of the population’ (pp. 14-15).
In his discussion of the patterns of interaction among the Mesoamerican elites,
Ken Hirth (1992) says that it is ‘difficult to identify the behavior of elites in
archaeological contexts and to interpret their role in implementing culture change…
archaeologists frequently do not have a good working model of elite behavior
necessary… for studying and reconstructing elite interaction’. Researchers should ‘have
a comprehensive understanding of the type of behavior under investigation [in order] to
develop an appropriate methodology for studying it using archaeological data’ (p. 18).
According to Hirth, research has shown ‘that prestige and utilitarian goods were
exchanged widely and in significant quantities throughout Mesoamerica by 1000 BC.
Obsidian was one of the earliest utilitarian commodities to circulate between regions…
Prestige goods including marine shell and a variety of iron ore types were also
exchanged throughout Mesoamerica during the Early Formative period (1500-900 BC)’.
 239

Furthermore, jade and serpentine were transformed into ornaments and portable
carvings that ‘were circulated widely as high prestige items after 1000 BC. Long-
distance trade continued to supply elites with exotic objects and prestige goods until the
Spanish conquest… Transportation costs limited the type and amount of commodities
that moved through interregional exchange networks… For the most part, only high-
value items such as jade, turquoise, cotton textiles, obsidian, marble, marine shell, [and]
cacao’ were transported ‘over large distances between regions. Except for obsidian,
most of the goods fall within categories that archaeologists label primitive valuables,
prestige goods, or sumptuary items. These goods are important because of their role in
the regulation of social and economic relationships within societies lacking modern
market mechanisms’ (pp. 19-20).
Staple commodities like maize, beans and other components of the domestic
economy ‘rarely moved far from their source of production even under tribute
conditions’. These goods ‘were stored at the household level and mobilized through
periodic markets to meet fluctuating levels of resource demand’ (p. 20).
Regional and interregional interaction networks were important components of
the Mesoamerican subsistence strategy. They helped reduce subsistence risk by
expanding the distribution system in the stateless societies of the Formative period.
Interregional exchange was no doubt present in all sedentary agricultural societies,
which were subject to periodic or fluctuating subsistence risk. The emerging elites of
the Mesoamerican ecumene were involved in mediating these problems and made use of
interregional exchange to form social networks and dependency relationships within
their societies. Inter-elite exchange networks had three important functions, according to
Hirth, as they provided: (1) the elite with an opportunity to broaden control over
resource production through control of the social relations of labor; (2) emergency
provisioning in times of resource shortfall –in the absence of regional market systems or
alternative forms of economic integration, these networks represented the broadest
system through which resources were mobilized to alleviate local shortfalls– and
finally, (3) the political framework within which leaders mediated disputes and
maintained peace among their respective groups. Moreover, they established the social
and political relationships that were to be replicated between communities at the
regional level (p. 27).
There is a cultural complex that was shared between western and central
Mesoamerica in the Formative period and later times which was just as important as the
 240

pottery styles usually studied by archaeologists. This cultural complex had to do with
human adaptation to a distinctive ecological environment. We have seen in this chapter
that in the basins of Michoacán, the coastal areas of Jalisco, and the lowlands of the
Bajío, aquatic environments presented both challenges and opportunities to the early
human settlers.
We have seen in previous chapters that the Mesoamerican ecumene was
characterized by a profusion of aquatic landscapes from the Archaic and Formative
periods; in this setting a cultural phenomenon persisted until the Spanish conquest and
even beyond it. One of the best examples of human adaptation to aquatic landscapes in
the Formative period is the site of Terremote-Tlaltenco in the Basin of Mexico (Serra
Puche 1988). Terremote-Tlaltenco was a small lakeside settlement of some 30 houses
with a total population of around 150 people, who lived in the southern Basin of Mexico
from the beginning of the Middle Formative period (ca. 500 BC) to the mid-Terminal
Formative (ca. first century AD). The people there subsisted by exploiting the available
natural resources found in the water of the lake and marshes, in the lands immediately
around the lake, and in the surrounding hills and forests (p. 109).
In her discussion of food procurement and preparation at Terremote-Tlaltenco,
Serra Puche says that the amount of remains of fauna and flora found in her excavations
are sufficient to attempt a description of the kinds of foods consumed in this ancient
village. Most of the animal remains pertain to aquatic species, such as waterfowl,
including the Anatidae family (i.e. ducks, geese and swans), turtles of the Kinosternon
hirtipes species, and fish like charales (small fish of the order Atheriformes), white fish
(Chirostoma sp.), and juiles (Cyprinus carpio). Land mammals are also present in the
site’s archaeological faunal assemblage, including deer, rabbits and turkeys, whose
remains were quite abundant throughout the site. Food plants were also plentiful, the
most important examples being maize seeds (Zea mays), and plant remains of the
following genera: Scirpus sp., Cyperus sp., Chenopodium sp., Amaranthus sp., Cheno-
Ams, Portulaca sp., Persea americana, Prunus capuli, Phaseolus vulgaris, Opuntia sp.,
and Capsicum sp., etcetera (p. 117). 2
Tools made of modified deer bone and antlers are abundant among the items
found in the excavations at Terremote (Figure 88). Most of these tools share a common
shape, presumably adapted to a certain function and likely used as awls and spatulas.
2
See Serra Puche (1988: Table 7) for the complete list of plant species found at Terremote-Tlaltenco.
 241

Deer leg bones and antlers were the most common materials used in the elaboration of
these artifacts, as well as in the production of numerous other objects, such as needles,
ornaments, scrapers for working skins, and modified antlers used in stone knapping.
Bone tools were used in basket-making, in addition to preparing animal skins and
making obsidian tools. According to Serra Puche, in many modern rural communities in
the Basin of Mexico bone awls are still used by artisans to tighten the weave of the
baskets they make (p. 164).
In short, Terremote was a fishing village where people also made baskets, reed
mats, and ropes, among many other items, indicating that a whole series of aquatic
resources and many others were widely-exploited. The exchange of finished products or
raw matter, such as reeds and rushes, forged a relationship between Terremote and other
villages and towns, including centers of regional importance.
Because of the lacustrine nature of the archaeological contexts that were
excavated at Terremote, much of the perishable material culture (i.e. baskets, mats,
ropes, and so on) was preserved, so we have a good example of a village whose daily
existence was based on an aquatic lifeway that relied primarily on fishing, hunting,
gathering and manufacture (p. 256), as explained in Chapter I.
During the Middle Formative in southern Mesoamerica, the Olmec culture was
the most advanced in terms of social complexity (Coe 1981). Apart from a sophisticated
agricultural technology, the Olmecs achieved high levels of civilization in such areas as
art and architecture, thanks to the abundant natural resources in their environment and
the people’s ability to exploit a vast array of aquatic landscapes, primarily the rivers and
swamps so abundant in the lowlands of the Gulf of Mexico. This aquatic orientation
was highlighted by Michael Coe, who wrote that Olmec culture depended for its
survival on the resources provided by their watery realm.
Coe (1981) used the phrase ‘the gift of the river’ 3 to highlight the important role
of the Coatzacoalcos River of Veracruz in the rise of Olmec civilization. In Coe’s view,
‘San Lorenzo Olmec civilization, which flourished… from 1200 to 900 BC, was
literally “the gift of the river”… In this hot, humid area there is no strongly marked dry
season… so agriculture can be carried on throughout the year’ (p. 15). Coe wrote that
‘abundant remains of manos and metates make it certain that the San Lorenzo Olmec
3
Coe was echoing Greek historian Herodotus (b. 485 BC), who called ancient Egyptian civilization ‘the gift of the Nile’ because the
Egyptians relied on the banks and delta of the Nile River for the soils and water indispensable for agriculture. Without this river, the
prevailing desert conditions in the North African continent would not have been a suitable environment for agriculture, an
indispensable condition for settled life and civilization.
 242

were corn farmers, although… they probably planted a good deal of manioc as well as
beans, squashes, and a host of other cultigens’ (p. 16). Archaeological and ethnographic
studies (e.g. Coe and Diehl 1980) around the great Olmec site of San Lorenzo showed
that ‘the Olmec mainly relied for their animal protein on fish, turtles, and dogs… Turtle
hunting was and is an important activity, usually pursued while fishing… Thus, the
abundant animal protein available to the ancient Olmec was as much a gift of the river
as were the prized river levee soils’ (p. 17). Coe (1981) sums up this aspect of the local
cultural ecology by saying that ‘the rise of Olmec civilization was probably remarkably
similar to that of ancient Egypt’ (p. 19), in that both were heavily dependent on
irrigation agriculture and a wide variety of aquatic food resources.
Another outstanding contribution to our understanding of Olmec lifeways was
made by Dihel (2004), who tells us that maize was the Olmec staple, though the
people’s diet also relied on many other plants, both wild and domesticated, as well as
plentiful aquatic resources. The ancient Olmecs probably spoke proto-Mixe-Zoquean,
an extinct ancestor of numerous modern languages in the area. Linguists have
reconstructed a basic vocabulary that contains several food terms, including maize,
cacao, squash, tomato, bean, sweet potato, manioc, cotton and tropical fruits and
vegetables such as chayote, guava, zapote and papaya. To this list we should add plants
identified by ethnobotanists that include, apart from the ones mentioned above,
sunflower and corozo palm nuts that have been found in trash deposits at Olmec sites.
Those same deposits yielded remains of many aquatic species that had been taken from
local rivers and swamps, among them clams, turtles, catfish, gar, snapper and
crocodiles, as well as bones of deer and domestic dogs (p. 85).
Tanya Peres et al. (2010) used paleo-botanical, ethno-botanical and
zooarchaeological data from the Olmec site of Tres Zapotes to address the following
questions: ‘Did different social status groups eat different foods, and if so, what were
they eating? …and, Why do these differences occur?’ Dealing with these questions
‘requires a consideration of both temporal and spatial patterns in the faunal and floral
data. These data span the Formative period… [in] southern Veracruz (1400 BC-AD
300)’ (p. 281). Peres et al. analyzed the ‘data based on social context, with reference to
the following categories: elite domestic and administrative areas… ceremonial and/or
mortuary deposits… and non-elite domestic deposits’ (p. 281).
The study of Olmec foodways conducted by Peres et al. (2013:126) arrived at
the following conclusions:
 243

1. Aquatic species became less important in the rural diet as farmers focused more on
maize production. In contrast to the rural pattern, people in urban centers, especially the
non-elites, ate large quantities of aquatic animals, while two important terrestrial species
–deer and domesticated dogs– were probably reserved for the elites and ceremonial
purposes.
2. Aquatic animals comprised over 60% of the minimum number of individuals
identified at San Lorenzo, while at Tres Zapotes they comprised as much as 62-67%. At
other Olmec sites in the same area aquatic fauna, though less abundant, was far from
negligible, reaching between 11 and 20% of the faunal assemblage. Clearly, aquatic
species were highly-important, reliable sources of protein for these people.
3. The success of the maize-based agricultural economy on the Gulf Coast during the
Formative period relied greatly on additional protein derived from aquatic animals, as
well as domestic dogs.
Peres et al. (2010) discuss the paleoethnobotanical assemblage at Tres Zapotes
on the basis of macro-remains from flotation samples (p. 284). Maize (Zea mays) and
bean (Phaseolus sp.) were both identified at this site; maize kernels and cupules appear
in greater quantities than beans. Fruits from several tree species seem to have
contributed to the diet at Tres Zapotes, including the following: sapote (Pouteria
sapote), coyol (Acrocomia mexicana), and coyol real (Scheelea liebmanni) (p. 284).
Peres et al. (2010) say that ‘in addition to the fresh edible fruit… the seed from
the sapote fruit has a variety of uses, all of which entail grinding into a powder which is
then used as an additive for foods, medicines, soaps or cosmetics, or to fix colors on
painted gourds’ (p. 285). The coyol palm is widely-used throughout Mexico and Central
America, since coyol fruits are ‘high in fat protein and caloric value… [and so] can be
used for a variety of purposes, including food, medicine, and wine production’.
Meanwhile, coyol real ‘produces fruits that are hard and fibrous, yielding one to three
oily seeds… the coyol real is a valuable source of vegetable oil… and its palm fronds
can be used for thatching’ (pp. 285-287).
Because the archaeological record tells only an incomplete story, it is profitable
to turn to ethnographic studies about the lifeways of the local population of the Olmec
area, like those by Coe and Diehl (1980) conducted among the villagers of Tenochtitlan,
Veracruz. Coe and Diehl say that ‘plants and their products are the foundation of
economic life in Tenochtitlan’ (p. 69). Although the major emphasis in agriculture is on
maize cultivation, secondary and minor crops, as well as the exploitation of wild plants,
 244

all contributed numerous foods, medicines and raw materials. The use of plants for
medicines, for example, is well-established: Coe and Diehl report 66 plant species with
medicinal properties in the area around Tenochtitlan (1980: Appendix 1).
These authors further inform us that ‘secondary crops include beans (Phaseolus
vulgaris), which are a very important item in the Tenochtitlan diet’, as are squashes and
gourds: ‘At least six varieties of squash (Cucurbita pepo) and three of gourds
(Lagenaria siceraria) are cultivated here’, while the chayote (Sechium edule) ‘is cooked
as a side dish or as component in a soup’ (pp. 82-83), and ‘local farmers grow two
varieties of manioc (Manihot esculenta)… [as well as] four varieties of sweet potatoes
(Ipomoea batatas)’. Another important resource is jícama (Pachyrryzos erosus), ‘a
leguminous plant cultivated for its edible tubers’ and malanga (Xanthosoma violaceum)
‘is a relatively rare crop today, [but] it was cultivated more widely in the past’ (p. 84).
Chili peppers (Capsicum frutescens) are a minor crop in the area, as are tomatoes
(Lycopersicon esculentum) (p. 86). The list includes several species of cultivated trees;
seven examples are reported by Coe and Diehl, but there are many more (p. 87).
Coe and Diehl mention a ‘tremendous diversity of natural flora in the area…
Many wild plant foods are available… at different times of the year. Today these foods
are casual supplements which add variety to the diet, but they may have been much
more significant in pre-Columbian times, before the introduction of Old World
domesticated fruits and other plants’ (p. 91).
We have seen in this chapter that the Olmec culture, clearly one of the defining
components of the Mesoamerican ecumene during the Formative period, was for the
most part absent from West Mexico. But West Mexico did share at least one important
trait with the Olmecs and other cultures of the Formative: its orientation toward an
aquatic lifeway. We have seen that ethnohistorical and ethnographic information
reinforces the aquatic nature of the cultural adaptations to a distinctive ecological
environment. This trait will continue throughout most of the pre-Hispanic sequence in
West Mexico, as we shall see in later chapters.
 245

Figure 48. The Olmec style spread throughout a good part of the Mesoamerican ecumene, following the
Olmec’s quest for natural resources unavailable in their tropical homeland in the Gulf of Mexico (adapted
from Diehl 2004: Figure 1).

Figure 49. These tombs at El Opeño, Michoacán, could be the forerunners of the shaft tombs that are so
characteristic of West Mexico. The Opeño tombs might also have functioned as family crypts, since they
housed multiple burials (after Oliveros 2004: Figure 6).
 246

Figure 50. The pottery vessels from El Opeño include pots decorated with linear incisions, punching and
appliqué, quite similar to the ones found at Tlatilco in the Basin of Mexico, a site more or less
contemporaneous with El Opeño (after Oliveros 2004: Figure 21).

(a) (b)

Figure 51. Figurines are an important part of the ceramic assemblage found at El Opeño. Anthropomorphic
figurines have a strong resemblance to Formative types from the Basin of Mexico, and include ball players (a)
 247

and figures who may represent personages of high status (b) (after Oliveros 2004: Figures 11 and 14; not to
scale).

Figure 52. Deer bones were modified into needles and awls, which may have been used for knitting
fishnets or other textiles, or for weaving reed baskets, among many other tasks (adapted from Oliveros
2004: Figures 55 and 57).

Figure 53. Capacha was an important archaeological culture of West Mexico during the Middle
Formative period. It originated in the state of Colima with possible influence from other areas of
Mesoamerica and South America, as seen in its ceramic tradition (adapted from Mountjoy 1994a).
 248

Figure 54. Capacha’s peculiar pots with triple tubes are unique, and the decorations with incised
‘sunbursts’ are also highly distinctive (adapted from Kelly 1980: Figure 24).

Figure 55. El Pantano, a Middle Formative site on the coast of Jalisco, holds much information about pre-
Hispanic burial customs and many other aspects of native life (after Mountjoy 2012: Figure 28).
 249

Figure 56. The tombs from the El Pantano and the surrounding area of the Mascota Valley (Jalisco) are
among the very few funerary contexts excavated in situ in West Mexico, like this burial with offerings
consisting of pots and figurines (after Mountjoy 2012: Figure 205).

Figure 57. The human remains in the tombs at El Pantano have been found in different conditions of
articulation. In this case one individual is in anatomical position, while another has been pushed to one
side (after Mountjoy 2012: Figure 126).
 250

Figure 58. In some funerary chambers all the burials were found disarticulated, wrapped in bundle-like
packages with offerings (after Mountjoy 2012: Figure 223).

(a)
 251

(b)

Figure 59. Most burials from the Middle Formative in the Mascota Valley had offerings such as ceramic
vessels (a) and figurines (b) (courtesy of Joseph Mountjoy).

Figure 60. The Teuchitlán people built monumental precincts, which are usually associated with round
platforms or mounds, arranged in a circular pattern (after Weigand 2011a: Figure 1).
 252

Figure 61. The Teuchitlán tradition (Jalisco, Colima, and Nayarit) is characterized by monumental
buildings, such as these architectural circles with high central mounds (adapted from Weigand and
Beekman 1998: Figure 22).

Figure 62. The Teuchitlán tradition had architectural complexes with platforms, houses and mounds in a
circular pattern, which may have served as elite residences or public spaces, as shown in this ceramic
sculpture (courtesy of Hasso von Winning).
 253

Figure 63. The ceramic figures found in Late Formative tombs of the Teuchitlán tradition are a unique
source of information about the ball game in ancient West Mexico (courtesy of Hasso von Winning).

Figure 64. Many ball courts have been found in the area of the Teuchitlán tradition (Jalisco, Colima, and
Nayarit), some of monumental proportions (adapted from Weigand 1991: Figure 4.7).
 254

Figure 65. Huitzilapa was a ceremonial center pertaining to the Teuchitlán tradition during the Late
Formative period (ca. AD 1-300). Huitzilapa had plazas, mounds, ball courts, terraces, residential units,
and circular complexes (after Ramos and López 1995).

Figure 66a. Excavations at Huitzilapa in 1993 by Jorge Ramos and Lorenza López uncovered one of the
most important shaft tombs ever found in West Mexico, with the burials and offerings still in situ at the
time of excavation (after Ramos and López 1995).
 255

Figure 66b. The two burial chambers at Huitzilapa contained six individuals –three in each chamber– who
had been buried with rich offerings (after Ramos and López 1995).
 256

Figure 67. The shaft tomb of Huitzilapa, Jalisco, is one of the few examples of the funerary customs of
the Teuchitlán tradition, found by archaeologists in pristine condition (after López and Ramos 1996).

(a)
 257

(b) (c)

Figure 68. The offerings deposited with the dead in the Huitzilapa tomb included worked seashell objects
(a-b) and painted conch shells (c), representing marine species imported from afar (after López 2004:
Figures 1-3).

(a)

(b)

Figure 69. The Huitzilapa tomb contained clay vessels decorated with geometric and zoomorphic designs
(a). The two-headed snake (b) is also present in a bowl from the same geographical area (after López
2004: Figures 6 and 7).
 258

Figure 70. The public rituals celebrated by the people of the Teuchitlán tradition may have included
banquets, as seen in ceramic sculptures such as this one from Jalisco, showing a high-status individual
with a bowl and a hollow tube for drinking (private collection, adapted from Butterwick 1998: Figure 1).

Figure 71. This figure pertaining to the Teuchitlán tradition is holding a bowl and a gourd, probably used
for drinking pulque or some other beverage (courtesy of Hasso von Winning).
 259

Figure 72. The menu in Mesoamerican feasts usually included dog meat, like this Teuchitlán-tradition
sculpture from Colima (courtesy of Hasso von Winning).

Figure 73. House floor at La Joyita, in the northwestern sector of the site of Los Guachimontones, during
excavation (after Herrejón 2009: Figure 3).
 260

Figure 74. The study of chemical traces (in this case phosphates) on the house floor at La Joyita revealed
activity areas (after Herrejón 2009: Figure 7).

Figure 75. This house in the town of Santiago, in the Tomatlán River region of Jalisco, is a rare example
of vernacular architecture, with thatched roof and decoration in high relief on the façade (courtesy of
Joseph Mountjoy).
 261

Figure 76. The Chupícuaro ceramic tradition includes hollow anthropomorphic figures decorated with
geometric designs (Museo Michoacano, Morelia, Mich.).

Figure 77. Chupícuaro pottery vessel with stirrup-spout, probably found as offering in a funerary context
(Museo Michoacano, Morelia, Mich.).
 262

Figure 78. The Chupícuaro people had connections with the Basin of Mexico, as shown by these figurines
(of the H-4 type) found in Cuicuilco (adapted from Ramírez 2018: p. 43).

Figure 79. Figurines of the slant-eyed type are common in the Chupícuaro area (adapted from Frierman
1969: Figures 395, 396, 398).
 263

Figure 80. Excavations in the Chupícuaro area found tombs with a shaft and steps, reminiscent of tombs
in other parts of West Mexico (after Faugere and Darras 2016: Figure 10).

Figure 81. The aquatic environment that dominated the landscape of El Bajío is seen in this illustration
from the mid-16th century, called Pintura de Celaya y Acámbaro (after Acuña 1987: Plate 1).
 264

Figure 82. Map of San Miguel Maravatío, Michoacán (1727), showing a river, several canals, water wells,
marshes, and many orchards and other green areas. This aquatic landscape was typical of the Lerma River
Basin and surrounding areas during pre-Hispanic and early Colonial times (after Sánchez and Boehm
2005: Figure 2).

Figure 83. The material culture of Tlatilco included a rich repertoire of utilitarian and ritual ceramic
vessels during the Middle-Formative period (adapted from Coe 1984a: Figure 23).
Figure 84. The Tlatilco burials were richly furnished with effigy figurines and roller stamps (adapted
from Coe 1984a: Figure 20).
 265

Figure 85. Some of the Tlatilco figurines portray supernatural beings with two faces (middle row) and
what appear to be shamans (bottom row) (adapted from Diehl 2004: Figure 110).

Figure 86. Miguel Covarrubias traced the development of the iconographic complex derived from an
original Olmec prototype, the ‘jaguar mask’, and its evolution into different rain deities in central and
southern Mesoamerica (adapted from Covarrubias 1957: Figure 22).
Figure 87. These red-on-brown vessels pertaining to the Tlatilco style come from the state of Morelos.
They show some traits found in central Mexico and West Mexico in the Middle Formative period (after
Grove 2009: Figure 4).
 266

(a)

(b)

Figure 88. Tools made of modified deer bone and antlers are abundant among the items found at
Terremote-Tlaltenco. Some of these tools were probably used in basket making, or for weaving fishnets,
preparing animal skins and making obsidian tools (after Serra Puche 1988: Photos 31 and 32).
 267

CHAPTER V
THE CLASSIC PERIOD (ca. AD 250/300-900)

The Mesoamerican Classic period was first defined as a time of cultural florescence,
primarily in the Maya area. Dates on Maya monuments ranged from about AD 250 to
AD 900, so this period was seen by most scholars as a ‘golden age’ with art, society and
technology reaching a maturity comparable to that of ancient Greece. For many
academics, the Classic period begins at AD 200, or even earlier, and many recognize a
Protoclassic, the period immediately preceding the Classic (Evans 2004a). The early
scholars who designated AD 250-900 as the Classic period ‘marked out an era of
flourishing cities and ceremonial centers, ruling over true states and vast territories.
Some of Mesoamerica’s most important archaeological sites had their florescence
during the Classic period: Teotihuacan, Cholula, El Tajín, Monte Albán, Palenque,
Tikal, Copán’ (p. 263), among many others. These centers represent some of the great
regional cultures that achieved a high level of complexity during the Classic, which in
some cases persisted even into the Postclassic period.
For Beekman (2010), the Late Formative-Early Classic period (ca. 100 BC-AD
300) in West Mexico (Figure 89) saw some communities developing their own style of
public architecture while ‘expanding into northern Guanajuato and south into
Michoacán. The timing for this expansion is unclear, as absolute dates are limited, but
these communities must have been in northwest Guanajuato by the Early to Middle
Classic’ (p. 65). The populations pertaining to the Loma Alta phase (ca. AD 1-400) in
the lake basins of highland Michoacán had leadership structures based on ritual
associations. Loma Alta communities participated in long-distance trade in obsidian and
other commodities, including diagnostic prismatic blades that were imported from
central Mexico. Another area discussed by Beekman is the lowlands of the Bajío,
located east of the Michoacán lake districts just mentioned. Beekman considers the
Bajío to have been ‘unified only in the sense of sharing a generalized architectural
tradition based on enclosed patios… and societies in this region interacted differently
with the highland polities to the west and east’ (p. 65).
Until recently, there was very little knowledge about the Classic period in West
Mexico compared to central and southern Mesoamerica. Recent research, however, is
slowly shedding more light on cultural developments in this area during the period
under discussion. In this chapter, I present a summary of the Classic period as it has
 268

been described for several areas of the western portions of the ecumene. But first I
discuss the general background against which our story developed.

The Mesoamerican Ecumene during the Classic Period

In the interests of brevity, I will limit this discussion to central Mexico and selected
areas of southern Mesoamerica. The goal here is to provide a backdrop or general
context for the presentation of the West-Mexican Classic period that will be discussed
in detail later in this chapter. According to Evans (2004a), the period preceding the
Classic –called the Terminal Formative– ‘was a time when most regions of
Mesoamerica developed large, complex civic-ceremonial centers… towns boasted ball
courts and pyramids, and many ruling families showed off their fine trade goods
brought from far away. However, all these relatively impressive central places seem
small compared with Teotihuacan’ (p. 253). Teotihuacan would become the greatest
urban center in the New World, as was presaged during the city’s development ‘in the
Terminal Formative period [of]… a ceremonial boulevard… with massive pyramids’ (p.
253).
Jeremy Sabloff (1989) wrote that ‘the most important quality defining a city’
such as Teotihuacan ‘is its complexity and form of integration. Cities are made up not
simply of large populations but of large diverse populations that account for the
economic and organizational diversity and interdependence that distinguishes a city
from simpler settlement forms’ (p. 29). According to Sabloff, a true city usually has ‘the
following characteristics: (1) a large and dense population; (2) complexity and
interdependence; (3) formal and impersonal organization; (4) many non-agricultural
activities; and (5) a diversity of central services both for its inhabitants and for the
smaller communities in the surrounding area’ (p. 29).
The first cities of ancient Mesoamerica ‘began to emerge in the Valley of
Oaxaca and the Valley of Mexico by the middle of the first millennium BC. But these
grand urban centers did not appear suddenly: their roots can be traced back through
many centuries in both areas, as well as in the Gulf Coast Lowlands’ (pp. 29-30).

Teotihuacan: City and State in the Basin of Mexico

By the fourth century AD, ‘Teotihuacan was more massive than ever, with a population
topping 100,000, yet the nature of its societal organization is still an enigma to us
today… Teotihuacan’s traditions of rulership can only be speculated about, along with
 269

the nature of its internal organization’ (Evans 2004a:264). Another enigma has to do
with the nature of Teotihuacan’s external relations with foreign lands over which it
maintained a strong influence, and with foreign powers, where the Teotihuacan state
‘can be seen to have meddled significantly. We do know that… Teotihuacan maintained
strong ties with other centers, and may have even established colonies’ (pp. 264-265).
Linda Manzanilla (2017a) has written that during the Late and Terminal
Formative periods, before Teotihuacan existed as a city, there were villages such as
Cuanalan, located in the confluence of the Teotihuacan Valley and Lake Texcoco.
Excavation at this early village site uncovered evidence of ‘the cultivation of several
species of maize, as well as… beans, amaranth, Setaria, and wild species of tomato and
onion, cactus and tejocote [hawthorn]’ (pp. 31-32). Turkeys and dogs were raised for
food, and hunting included white-tailed deer and two species of rabbit, while aquatic
species like fish, frogs and turtles complemented the available food resources.
According to Manzanilla, the earliest building phase of the Moon Pyramid
(Building 1) probably belongs to the first century AD, and the second phase to the first
half of the second century. Building of the Sun Pyramid likely started at the same time.
It was during this period that ‘massive construction started in the city of Teotihuacan’
(p. 34). Recent archaeological research has shown that Teotihuacan’s hegemony lasted
from ca. AD 200 to 550 (Manzanilla 2018a:9).
René Millon (1993) has the following to say about the greatest city of the
Classic period: ‘Teotihuacan… housed its heterogeneous, multiethnic, population… in
some two thousand… stone [and] adobe apartment compounds designed for urban
living’ (p. 17). The rulers of this Classic-period polity ‘were so determined to
demonstrate their power through colossal public works… that they erected in the city
center the largest expanse of monumental public architecture of its time in the New
World… [This] urban milieu fostered… the development of Central Mexico’s most
prosperous economy and wide-ranging exchange network’ (p. 17). Writing about
Teotihuacan’s settlement patterns, Manzanilla (2017b) made a distinction between
apartment compounds, neighborhood centers, and palace structures; these building types
corresponded with different social strata of the ancient city.
Thanks to ‘the florescence of a culture, economy, and society of such power and
prestige… Teotihuacan became the most influential city of its time in Mesoamerica and
continued to play that role for hundreds of years’ (p. 17). One of the most remarkable
achievements of this culture was ‘the development during a time of collective leadership
 270

of distinctive art forms in which the individual was de-emphasized, rulers were not
identifiably portrayed, domination and conflict were absent, and human sacrifice and
ritual bloodletting were shown indirectly’ (pp. 17, 20).
The center of this sprawling city was dominated by its main avenue, known as
the Street of the Dead, and its monumental constructions: the Pyramid of the Sun and
the Pyramid of the Moon, as well as the Temple of the Feathered Serpent
(Quetzalcoatl). The Street of the Dead was 1.5 miles long, and Millon calls this ancient
thoroughfare ‘one of the most arresting concentrations of monumental architecture in
the world’ (p. 20).
The Teotihuacan Valley ‘was intensely settled in the second century BC, long
after most of the Basin of Mexico’. This relatively late date was due to the fact that ‘it
has less rainfall than the rest of the basin. But it had resources with the potential to
compensate for this. Among these resources were deep alluvial soils and many adjacent
springs. The potential for irrigation as well as obsidian deposits and a key geopolitical
position in the basin made it a region of exceptional promise’ (p. 20). Eventually, the
Teotihuacan state transformed this region into one of the most productive in
Mesoamerica for a period of many centuries. A result of this process was that the
‘increasing prosperity… contributed to the intensification of stratification… as the
original community was transformed into a thriving urban center… with priests and
other religious specialists becoming increasingly prominent’ (p. 20).
The territory under Teotihuacan influence or domination was never vast,
probably about 10,000 square miles, and the population under its control probably did
not exceed half a million people. Incursions were constantly being directed at distant
regions, such as Guatemala (from the third century AD). According to Millon (1993),
ties between Teotihuacan and Tikal, a major city in the Petén lowlands, continued until
AD 500 or later, and are evidenced by the adoption of the architectural form called
talud-tablero, among many other traits (Figure 90). However, the central Mexican
polity of Teotihuacan never established an empire encompassing the Tikal area.
Teotihuacan’s relations with other parts of Guatemala were closer and more reminiscent
of a true empire: ‘The highland capital of Kaminaljuyu appears to have been conquered
and held for perhaps a century. The Pacific coastal region of Escuintla may have been
held for a longer period’ (p. 28). These regions were attractive to the expanding
highland polity because of their exotic products: tropical feathers, jade and other green
stones, cacao beans, Pacific Ocean shells, copal (tree resin used for making incense),
 271

and probably rubber. Other regions where the Teotihuacanos found these strategic
goods were the Yucatán Peninsula, Veracruz in the Gulf of Mexico, and Guerrero in the
west.
Millon sees Teotihuacan’s impact on other regions of Mesoamerica as ‘highly
variable, but in most instances [it] appears to have been economic, ideological, and
cultural, rather than political. There was no Teotihuacan empire. Nevertheless, no other
single city had so widespread and far-ranging an impact on the history of Mesoamerica
prior to the time of the Aztecs’ (p. 28).
The Teotihuacan Apartment Compound. One of the most remarkable characteristics of
Classic-period Teotihuacan is the apartment compound, a settlement type never before
known in Mesoamerica. Linda Manzanilla (1993) has studied several apartment
compounds (Figures 91 and 92); in doing so she was able to reconstruct many aspects
of daily life in the ancient city. Manzanilla says that the everyday activities of pre-
Hispanic peoples are ‘a current topic of interest in archaeology, [but they are] a
particular challenge when dealing with an urban center as important as Teotihuacan,
because we are left with only the material vestiges of the latest activities carried out at
the site’ (p. 91).
Teotihuacan flourished for a span of roughly seven centuries (ca. 150 BC-AD
600/700), but we know very little about urban life in the early phases (ca. 150 BC-AD
200). During the Tlamimilolpa phase (ca. AD 200-400), Manzanilla argues that
‘elements of urban planning at the site are clearly defined, as well as domestic life in the
apartment compounds’. During this two hundred-year period, ‘Teotihuacan was a city
with streets and well-defined areas of circulation, drinking water and a sewage
system… It also had a vast network of internal drainage and ceremonial and
administrative constructions. Through much of the urban area plazas with… temples
continued to be the focus of ritual and perhaps economic activity for the different
sectors of the city’ (p. 91).
Some of the apartment compounds in Teotihuacan’s central area have been
excavated by Manzanilla and others. Recently, a compound called Oztoyahualco (in the
city’s northwest sector) ‘was meticulously excavated in an effort to detect even the
humblest traces of human activity’. This and other compounds consisted of ‘different
apartments joined by passages for circulation; they had domestic sanctuaries, and the
entire compound was surrounded by an exterior wall. Apartments generally consisted of
several rooms at slightly different levels, arranged around open patios… Each
 272

construction was isolated from the street and the exterior walls had no windows’ (p. 92).
Abundant light and air was provided by ‘internal patios… [where] rainwater… was
collected [and] refuse disposed of. In addition, some of the patios served as ritual
spaces… These compounds could have been occupied by corporate groups with
common occupations… for… craftsmen dedicated to different manufactures lived in
separate compounds’ (p. 92). Manzanilla also observed that ‘the apartment for each
nuclear family included zones for food preparation and consumption, sleeping quarters,
storage areas, sectors for refuse, patios for cult activities, and funerary areas.
Additionally, there were zones in which the entire family group gathered to share
activities, particularly those related to ritual’ (pp. 92-93).
Subsistence Activities. Manzanilla (1993) has also studied the subsistence activities
inside and near the apartment compounds that made urban life possible in the first place.
First, agriculture was of the utmost importance for urban growth, since at least from ‘the
beginning of the Christian era… we have evidence of the presence of corn, amaranth,
beans, squash, tomatoes, and chilies, in addition to nopal cactus fruit, quelites (edible
grasses), epazote (an aromatic herb), huizontle (a native plant of the genus
Chenopodium), purslane, and avocado… some of the plants mentioned were
undoubtedly cultivated and others gathered wild… [and] still others were perhaps semi
domesticated’ (p. 93).
The avocado was probably imported from the south (the present-day state of
Morelos) and used for both food and medicinal purposes. Cotton must have come from
a warmer climate, as well as another ‘foreign’ plant: cacao, which may have been used
to prepare chocolate and as a unit for exchange, as occurred in historical times.
Subsistence patterns in Teotihuacan during the Classic period have been studied
by Emily McClung (1987), whose analysis of plant remains from excavations
conducted at the urban center of Teotihuacan allowed her to analyze the subsistence
base of the city’s population during the first millennium AD. An important
consideration for this research had to do with ecological conditions in the study area,
and their relationship with food production and gathering in order to feed the city’s
population. Another focus of the investigation was the relationship between human or
cultural ecology and the development of urbanism in the area (p. 57).
For McClung, the concept of subsistence includes the use of plants not just as
food sources, but also as building material for house construction, in the manufacture of
garments and other techno-economic products, as well as in medicinal and ritual
 273

functions. In short, McClung’s approach to the analysis of archaeological plant remains

goes far beyond a consideration of food resources (pp. 57-58). Teotihuacan is a special
case because of its unique size and demographic density, unparalleled in Mesoamerica
during the Classic period. These characteristics demanded a complex economic
organization, which must have included areas outside the Teotihuacan Valley and the
Basin of Mexico. It is likely that the zones of resource extraction extended right out to
the limits of the city’s hinterland in the central highlands (p. 58).
McClung’s study was based on the paleo-ethno-botanical analysis of carbonized
plant remains obtained from excavations in the Teotihuacan Valley. The corpus
consisted of over one thousand earth samples suitable for flotation, as well as
carbonized material found in situ; some 200 samples were analyzed (p. 59). Table 5
describes plants that were identified among the archaeological items under study (apart
from the archaeological samples preserved, the representations of plants in mural
paintings and pottery within the city, all of which McClung used in her study).
Table 5. Edible plants identified in archaeological contexts at Teotihuacan (after
McClung 1987:60).
Local name English name Scientific classification
Maíz Maize Zea mays
Tule Bulrush Scirpus sp.
Alegría Amaranth Amaranthus spp.
Huauhtzontli or epazote Chenopods Chenopodium spp.
Verdolaga Purslane Portulaca sp.
Aguacate Avocado Persea sp.
Frijol Common bean Phaseolus vulgaris
Ayocote Runner bean Phaseolus coccineus
Huizache Wattles Acacia sp.
Tuna, nopal Prickly pear, nopal cactus Opuntia sp.
Bisnaga Cactus Mammillaria sp.
Chile Chili pepper Capsicum sp.
Tomate de bolsa Ground cherry Physalis sp.
Calabaza Pumpkin Cucurbita sp.
Ciruela Plum Spondias sp.
Capulín Capuli cherry Prunus capuli
 274

Tejocote Hawthorn Cratageus mexicana

McClung (1987) further states that subsistence activities ‘undoubtedly were more
complex during the Classic period… and it is likely that several systems were
developed in order to obtain the necessary resources to supply the urban dwellers’ (p.
67). Farming systems in the Teotihuacan Valley ranked from highly-intensive,
including irrigation techniques, to extensive systems; for instance rain-fed seasonal
cultivation. These variations depended on numerous ecological and economic factors.
However, because of limits in the carrying capacity of this region, a considerable
proportion of food had to be imported from elsewhere in the Basin of Mexico. McClung
holds that it is very difficult to make calculations about the farming potential and human
carrying capacity in the Teotihuacan Valley, because we know only a small portion of
the cultivated plants, and must add wild plant and animal resources to the list of
cultigens. The figure suggested for a maximum number of individuals that could be
supported on the basis of local food production is around 60,000-70,000, but this
number falls far short of the production levels needed to feed a population of some
200,000 people as has been suggested for the Classic period (p. 68).
McClung argues that the Teotihuacan Valley may have formed part of a
commercial and cultural network that spanned both highland and lowland environments.
This allowed for an exchange system of a wide variety of basic products, including
ceramics, obsidian, fibers (cotton and maguey among others), grains such as maize, and
exotic materials. Archaeological sites located in specific ecological zones, such as the
mountains and lake basins, had a strategic role in the acquisition of natural resources
and their transportation to Teotihuacan and may well help explain the subsistence
patterns of the great city (pp. 68-69).
McClung (1984) holds that farming techniques at Classic-period Teotihuacan
were probably similar to a wide variety of techniques still in use within the Basin of
Mexico in general, and probably reflect some aspects of pre-Hispanic agriculture. The
most important examples include flood irrigation, permanent irrigation (including
chinampas, or gardens in shallow lakes), terraces and seasonal (i.e. rain-fed) farming (p.
33).
The archaeological information discussed above can be supplemented by
ethnohistorical data from the Basin of Mexico and other areas of Mesoamerica during
the 16th century. The high density of occupation and large number of inhabitants in the
 275

city of Teotihuacan and its surrounding area begs the question of what techniques were
used in order to feed so many mouths. According to Teresa Rojas (1985), we have very
little information about different kinds of fertilizers and other methods that may have
been used to enhance the fertility of the soil used by these ancient Mesoamerican
farmers. Rojas says that the available resources for fertilizing the fields included scrub
or undergrowth from the fields, the remains of previous harvests (stalks, leaves, roots,
etcetera), foliage and other plant remains gathered and used to improve the fertility of
the soil, aquatic plants, silt from canals, lakes or rivers, human waste, guano from bats,
and excrement from turkeys and dogs (p. 155). Regarding human waste, Rojas says that
it is highly-likely that human excrement was used in agriculture, especially if we think
about the intensive farming practiced in the central area of Mesoamerica. Feces would
have been gathered and sold, and there were special places where they were collected
along roadways. According to the eyewitness account of Bernal Diaz del Castillo
around the time of the Spanish invasion (1519), the excrement sold at the Tlatelolco
market far exceeded the amounts used in tanning or salt production, so one likely use
would have been as manure in the fields, a practice that –Rojas tells us– has also been
reported for China and the Andes. The chinampas of Xochimilco in the Valley of
Mexico were fertilized with human fecal matter until recent times, and this fertilizer was
also employed in the Maya area and in Cholula, Puebla (p. 156). We do not know how
far back in time these techniques were used, but surely they must have been available to
the Teotihuacan farmers of the Classic period.
In addition to agriculture, hunting provided a mainstay for the local diet. Many
kinds of wild food obtained by hunters were indispensable for daily sustenance. At the
Oztoyahualco apartment compound, for instance, Manzanilla (1993) reports that most
of the animal protein consumed by the residents ‘came from rabbits, hares, white-tailed
deer, and probably domesticated dogs’. Manzanilla also found, albeit in smaller
quantities, ‘remains of ducks, domesticated turkeys, rodents, turtles, and reptiles’ (p.
94). Though information on hunting techniques is scarce, Manzanilla says there is an
abundance of obsidian projectile points in the archaeological record, suitable for both
arrows and spears. Blowgun projectiles are also present in the archaeological
assemblage (probably used for bird-hunting), and perhaps atlatls or spear-throwers (p.
94).
Domesticated animals were never a mainstay of the Mesoamerican diet, since
cattle were not available before the Spanish conquest (Diamond 1999). However,
 276

Somerville et al. (2016) provide archaeological and isotopic evidence suggesting that
cottontails and jackrabbits may have been bred for food at the Oztoyahualco apartment
compound. If this is true, then we should add animal husbandry to the repertoire of food
production strategies in Teotihuacan, though at this point we cannot assess the level of
production.
Another important source of food came from fishing, which was likely
performed in many rivers, lakes, ponds, swamps and other aquatic environments.
Though ‘fish remains are extremely scarce… because of their small size they are
believed to have come from the San Juan River, although some were lake fish’
(Manzanilla 1993:94). Mollusks were also part of the local diet at Teotihuacan, and they
included marine species from both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. Some terrestrial
species were edible, while some of the marine species were used to make ritual or
ornamental objects, like the shells of the Oliva genus (p. 94).
Gathering wild plants was probably no less important than hunting and fishing to
the domestic economy of the compound dwellers. Manzanilla writes that ‘plant species
were generally gathered for food, medicinal purposes, and fuel as well as for
construction. Varieties used included hawthorn, purslane, wild potatoes, wild reeds…
white sapodilla, pine, oak, juniper, ditch reeds, and bulrushes’ (p. 94).
Finally, the use of space in the apartment compounds she examined has not
escaped Manzanilla’s attention, for she has conducted studies of the domestic contexts
of several structures at Teotihuacan. This research has concluded that each nuclear
family had a specific area for cooking (Figure 93). This area may be recognized in the
archaeological record by dark, circular spots where the stove was placed (the stove was
a portable feature fueled by wood). Concentrations of phosphate may be seen around
this spot, marking the area of food consumption. Grinding stones (metates, manos,
molcajetes, etcetera) and other implements (pots, pottery griddles, and so on) linked to
food preparation are also found in these domestic contexts.
Many kinds of manufactured goods found in the apartment compounds provide
evidence of ‘different craft activities… within each apartment compound’. Manzanilla
distinguishes ‘between those activities that all family groups conducted to satisfy their
own domestic requirements and those that they carried out as a corporate group of
specialists for other sectors of the city’ (p. 95). The preparation of prismatic obsidian
blades was among the domestic activities performed there, including retouching or
sharpening lithic instruments, such as projectile points. Likewise, some types of ceramic
 277

figurines and pots were made with molds at home, while weavers worked to
manufacture baskets, textiles, and many other goods.
Specialized work was undertaken in select apartment compounds. Manzanilla
believes that ‘the Teotihuacan priesthood sponsored specialists who manufactured
certain ritual or sumptuary goods. One of the most important crafts was the production
of obsidian artifacts at a super-specialized level… specialized prismatic blades were
made as opposed to the more commonly produced bifacial blades’(p. 95).
Recent excavations at the Teopancazco district of Teotihuacan (Manzanilla
2019) have turned up new information about many aspects of life in this area of the city,
including the work carried out by specialized artisans with precious stones and other
raw materials. Emiliano Melgar Tisoc and Reyna Solís (2018) report that in pre-
Hispanic Teotihuacan the institutions responsible for transforming raw materials into
finished objects had a direct say ‘in the circulation and distribution of these goods,
especially if they were used as emblems of power or to emphasize social
differentiation… luxury or prestige goods… were scarce, with a more limited
distribution among certain sectors of society, since they were used for religious or
symbolic ends, or else they functioned as status or identity markers’ (p. 621).
Among the precious items recovered in different areas of Teotihuacan, there are
‘hundreds of lapidary objects found in offerings, burials, rubbish middens, building fill,
and activity areas dedicated to production. Most studies of these materials deal with…
typological classification… [and] identification of raw materials and their probable
source areas’ (p. 624). Among the raw materials found at Teotihuacan, the following
stand out: ‘slate, mica, travertine, pyrite, jadeite… serpentine, serpentinite, schist,
fuchsite, and malachite’ (p. 624). During the archaeological excavations at
Teopancazco, ‘dozens of lapidary pieces were recovered, in different parts of this barrio
center’ (p. 627). The analysis of the items using laboratory techniques such as x-ray
microprobe and energy-dispersive x-ray spectroscopy identified the following raw
materials: ‘jadeite, serpentine, green quartz, limestone, marble, and flint’ (p. 634). The
use of Micro-Raman spectroscopy and x-ray microprobe enabled the authors to
determine the probable source areas of the precious stones: jadeite and green quartz
came from the Motagua River area of Guatemala, while minerals such as travertine and
serpentine came from the Escudo Mixteco, a mountainous region between the states of
Puebla and Oaxaca (p. 660).
 278

Meanwhile, other workshops around the city were devoted to the manufacture of
ceramic vessels (Figure 94), clay figurines (Figure 95), elaborate lapidary crafts, items
made of polished stone, slate, shell, fine textiles and featherwork. Unfortunately, many
of these more perishable items have not survived the passage of time.
The City and its Surrounding Areas. Many neighborhoods have been identified inside
Teotihuacan’s urban sprawl. Millon (1993) argues that ‘several hundred years after the
concentration of most of the Basin of Mexico’s population in the city, a planned
resettlement of selected parts of the basin occurred… in areas where agricultural
production and resource exploitation could be maximized, as in the irrigable lands west
of the Teotihuacan Valley’ (p. 31). During the AD 200-550 period, the great majority of
the basin’s population (some 200,000 people) lived in Teotihuacan. This extreme
nucleation of such a large population came at a price, since it entailed ‘the
underutilization of much of the Basin’s resources compared to what was done earlier
and later’ (p. 31). Many of these urban-dwellers came from outside the Basin of
Mexico, as will be discussed below.
Teotihuacan was a multi-ethnic metropolis, and it is likely that it was constantly
visited by people from all over Mesoamerica. Millon (1993) holds that the city’s
‘complex urban society was able to accommodate at least two foreign enclaves on a
long-term basis —one from Oaxaca to the south, the other from Veracruz to the east’ (p.
30). Foreigners from Monte Albán (in the Oaxaca Valley), for example, ‘were allowed
to settle near the city’s western edge… the inhabitants of the Oaxaca Barrio lived in
apartment compounds… [and] as a means of retaining their ethnic identity these
outsiders maintained many of the customs and beliefs they had brought with them,
including the use of funerary urns and Oaxaca-style tomb burials’ (p. 30).
Evelyn Rattray (1992) conducted a study of the neighborhood in Teotihuacan
occupied by people from Oaxaca. Rattray tells us that ‘the nature of the relationship
between Teotihuacan and Monte Alban has been brought into clearer focus by the
discovery of the Oaxaca Barrio… The group of Oaxaqueños that established
themselves… in the district now known as Tlailotlacan, around AD 200, continued to
live there for another 300-400 years’ (p. 4). Excavations performed in this area of
Teotihuacan by Rattray and others ‘revealed a tomb with antechamber, extended
burials… Monte Alban funerary urns… a stone door jamb with Zapotec glyphs, and
Oaxaca-style pottery and figurines’ (p. 4).
 279

Rattray came to the conclusion that ‘a migrant group arrived in Teotihuacan

[and] founded the Zapotec community… The Zapotec group would not have persisted
for centuries unless they served an important economic function in Teotihuacan society.
This may have been an occupational skill: cochineal growing and processing… control
over lime resources and processing… or by virtue of holding a specialized niche in the
market system’ (p. 69).
A second community of foreigners was established on Teotihuacan’s eastern
margin around the fifth century AD (Millon 1993). This is known as the ‘Merchants’
Barrio’, and consisted of ‘people from coastal Veracruz who built a unique cluster of
round structures’ (p. 30). There, archaeologists have found abundant quantities of
Veracruz and Maya pottery, and proposed that the barrio residents ‘were importing
other materials, including cotton, cinnabar… and fine plumage… The evidence also
suggests that cinnabar was processed in the barrio and that textiles were produced there’
(p. 31).
A recently-discovered archaeological assemblage at Teotihuacan pertains to
people who came from West Mexico. This consists of burials with ceramic evidence,
including figurines (Figure 96) and vessels, pertaining to Michoacán styles (Gómez
Chávez 1998; Gómez Chávez and Gazzola 2007). The figurines are almost identical to
ones found by Eduardo Noguera at Jiquilpan, Michoacán (Noguera 1993:362). Further
evidence of contact between these two regions is based on the stable oxygen isotope
values obtained from skeletons discovered at an apartment compound called Tlajinga
33. These studies seem to indicate that the individuals in question came from at least
two different regions, one of them likely Michoacán (White et al. 2004).
Teotihuacan’s Presence in Mesoamerica. In discussing ‘the age of Teotihuacan and its
mission abroad’, Clemency Coggins (1993) states the following: ‘In the third and fourth
centuries of our era people traveled over four hundred miles north from Teotihuacan
into the highland deserts at the Tropic of Cancer and more than twice as far over
mountain ranges south to Copán [Honduras] at the southeastern corner of…
Mesoamerica, leaving unmistakable traces of their presence’ (p. 141). Coggins wonders
what they were seeking, and in answer to this question says that ‘for many decades
archaeologists have explained these journeys in terms of the production and exchange of
essential goods, particularly obsidian, or as evidence of conquest. However, some doubt
has been cast on [the military conquest] argument’, since Teotihuacan’s ‘long-distance
trade [was] small in scale and dedicated to specialized elite goods… Conquest also
 280

seems unlikely because Teotihuacan held no intervening territory, and evidence of

warfare is negligible’ (p. 141). Rather than imperial domination, ‘Teotihuacan’s mission
abroad’ may have ‘involved militant missionaries, or priestly soldiers, who traveled to
places where the Age of Teotihuacan and its religion… might prosper’ (p. 141).
In the following passages I discuss the interaction between Teotihuacan and
different regions to the east and south of the Basin of Mexico: the Valley of Oaxaca,
Veracruz in the Gulf of Mexico region, and the Maya area. The first example comes
from the Zapotec culture of Oaxaca. According to Joyce Marcus and Kent V. Flannery
(1996), in this part of the southern Mexican highlands ‘by AD 200… Monte Albán had
become the largest city… and would remain so for the next 500 years. That half
millennium, from AD 200 to 700, has been called the golden age of Zapotec
civilization’ (p. 208) and is known to archaeologists as the Monte Albán III phase.
But the events of the Monte Albán III phase did not occur in a vacuum: ‘The
Zapotec rulers crafted diplomatic relations with the other superpowers of their world.
Chief among those superpowers was Teotihuacan… Many times larger than Monte
Albán, Teotihuacan had… expansionist ambitions’ (p. 231). Between AD 350 and 550 –
a period roughly contemporaneous with Monte Albán III-A– Teotihuacan established a
military colony at Matacapan on the Veracruz coast (discussed below), and extended its
influence to the southernmost regions of the Mesoamerican ecumene. To reach some of
those areas, the Teotihuacanos almost certainly had to cross territory under the control
of the Zapotec state. However, there is no evidence that Monte Albán and Teotihuacan
ever engaged in war against each other. Several carved stone monuments suggest that
this was so because of skilled diplomacy. One of these monuments is Monte Albán’s
Stela I, a commemoration of a ruler’s inauguration sometime during the early Period III
in the Zapotec capital. This ruler, known as 12 Jaguar, commissioned carved scenes of
eight visitors from Teotihuacan, who came to the Zapotec capital to show support for
the new king (see Marcus and Flannery 1996: Figure 258; p. 217).
Noble visitors from Teotihuacan are also carved on four stelae set in Monte
Albán’s South Platform, but they appear on the edges of the monument, rather than on
the frontal pane, so they would have been hidden from view. One of the scenes on the
so-called ‘Estela Lisa’ shows four Teotihuacanos, each one wearing an elegant
headdress and holding a bag of incense, a symbol of ambassadors in Mesoamerica
(Figure 97). All four visitors ‘are being met by a Zapotec lord wearing a Lightning
headdress and holding a staff in his hand. Between the Zapotec lord and the
 281

Teotihuacanos is the place sign “Hill of I Jaguar” —perhaps an ancient name for Monte
Albán’ (p. 219). There is a second scene of Teotihuacan visitors on Stela I (Figure 98),
which is depicted in four compartments, each with an abbreviated reference to some of
the same Teotihuacan ambassadors mentioned above. One of the individuals, identified
as Nine Monkey, is shown leaving a temple decorated in Teotihuacan style (p. 220).
The most striking of these commemorative carved stones is known as the Lápida
de Bazán (Figure 99): on the left side of the stone we see what has been interpreted as
an ambassador from Teotihuacan, holding an incense pouch. On the right there is a
Zapotec personage dressed as a feline with an elaborate headdress. The hieroglyphic
text accompanying these figures has been tentatively interpreted as indicating that ‘these
two persons traveled, met, spoke, consulted diviners, and burned incense to establish the
sacred nature of their agreement’ (p. 233). Marcus and Flannery interpret the
information carved on this monument ‘as a record of a “summit meeting” between
representatives of two great cities 350 km apart. It was presumably through diplomatic
agreements like this that Monte Albán and Teotihuacan remained at peace with each
other, while both expanded against weaker ethnic groups’ (p. 233).
Architecture from the Classic period at Monte Albán bears a clear imprint of the
Teotihuacan style: a modified version of the ubiquitous talud-tablero decoration on the
façade of major buildings. Such is the case of Mound IV, a great pyramidal structure on
the west end of the Great Plaza (Figure 100). The mound’s building history spans
Monte Albán’s first epoch (ca. AD 1) to the end of III-B (ca. AD 830) (Fahmel
1991:107).
Rubén Cabrera (2008) sums up current ideas regarding cultural interaction
between Oaxaca and the Basin of Mexico during the Classic period by sustaining that
Teotihuacan’s ‘interactions with Monte Albán were quite intense from the beginning’
(p. 243). Thanks to Monte Albán’s geographical location in an intermediate point
between the central Mexican highlands and the Chiapas-Guatemala region (i.e.
southwest Mexico and parts of Central America), the Zapotec city is an important factor
for understanding the dynamics of interaction between these two regions. Monte Albán
was a strategic link between the oldest cultures of southern Mexico and Teotihuacan.
From an economic perspective, this interaction included activities within the realm of
trade, exchange and tribute. The states involved in resource production and distribution
had to maintain strict control over source areas and manufacturing sites. All the sites
where strategic goods were being extracted and transformed had to be protected, as well
 282

as the places and roads through which the commodities, merchants and tax collectors
traveled (p. 247). Many commodities were trade items, and were exchanged for
handcrafts or raw materials that were not available in the places where they were
consumed. For instance, some kinds of food products and materials for making
sumptuary objects were indispensable for Teotihuacan: cacao, cotton, green stones,
shells, and many other goods —though not all have remained in the archaeological
record. Some of these items, such as jade and other precious stones, may have traveled
from Guatemala to central Mexico via Monte Albán. Pottery is a good indicator of this
process, as in both Teotihuacan and Oaxaca there is ceramic evidence of cultural contact
(p. 247). Caso et al. (1967) wrote a groundbreaking treatise about pre-Hispanic pottery
from Oaxaca in which they describe several styles from the Classic period that show a
clear relationship with Teotihuacan (Figure 101). Caso et al. hold that Monte Albán’s
phase III-A ‘shows a well-defined change from the traditional culture of Epoch II… we
note a radical change in the influences affecting Monte Albán, and in the kind of culture
that developed there… This new culture is represented by Teotihuacan, which will leave
an indelible mark in central Mexico’ (p. 281). This change was also felt elsewhere in the
Valley of Oaxaca, but it did not occur ‘in a sudden manner… the new styles would
replace, little by little, the previous forms’ (p. 281). The ‘new flavor’ is underscored by
the pottery of the III-A phase (Caso et al. 1967: Table XII), of which some examples
‘are inspired by Teotihuacan archetypes. This does not mean to say that we are dealing
necessarily with direct influence from the great city, but rather from the whole Central
Mexican Highlands, whose cultures at this time had a strong connection with Monte
Albán’ (p. 289).
An example of this connection between Teotihuacan and the Zapotec capital of
Oaxaca is reported by Cabrera (2008): a Zapotec-style urn found in the 1980s in
Teotihuacan’s central market, which was associated with foreign materials that were
‘part of the commodities being exhibited in the tianguis (i.e. market). In 2002, four
additional urns were found in the Oaxaca Barrio, which had been deposited with a
primary burial in extended position, distinct from Teotihuacan’s traditional burials,
which were deposited in a flexed position inside a small pit. Two of these pieces were
imported from Oaxaca, and the other two were made in Teotihuacan with local clay’ (p.
248).
Verónica Ortega et al. (2016) studied Oaxaca-style pottery from the Tlailotlacan
barrio, and found that there was a ‘close participation of this urban sector in the
 283

exchange circuits of Oaxacan ceramic objects, as well as a constant manufacture of

these objects in the pottery workshops at Teotihuacan’ (p. 112). Ortega found that there
was a great demand for these items from a community that identified itself with the
Oaxaca-style pottery and consumed it on a daily basis.
Apart from pottery, trade or tribute networks transported many kinds of rocks,
such as serpentine and rhyolite. These were found in Oaxaca and Guerrero and then
taken to Teotihuacan where they were used to make sumptuary objects. Jade, on the
other hand, had to be brought from Guatemala, and the route by which it moved may
have traversed Oaxaca. Jade was the most highly-valued precious stone in
Mesoamerica, and it could have been transported as either finished objects or raw
material. Workshops have been reported from Teotihuacan, where the elite controlled
the production of high-value commodities (Cabrera 2008:250). Obsidian was also
valuable, as the most indispensable component of Mesoamerican lithic technology.
Teotihuacan controlled obsidian deposits within its territory and in the nearby central
highlands. Although Monte Albán had access to obsidian from natural deposits in the
Valley of Oaxaca, obsidian from Teotihuacan has been found in the Oaxaca region as
well (p. 252).
One of the raw materials that travelled from Oaxaca to Teotihuacan was mica,
since it is abundant in the Monte Albán area, but lacking in the area around the central
Mexican city. Mica belongs to a group of sheet silicate (phyllosilicate) minerals, and
was used profusely in Teotihuacan to decorate braziers and other high status items.
Cabrera (2008) reports a recent find of ‘a great mica deposit in Monte Albán, in a
context with ceramic materials of Teotihuacan style and a sculpture of typical
Teotihuacan style… At Teotihuacan great quantities of mica have been found, both as
refuse mixed with earth, and as great concentrations in storage facilities’ (p. 252).
In Veracruz, meanwhile, the rich tropical lowlands of the Gulf of Mexico region
attracted visitors from Teotihuacan who probably settled there and left their imprint in
material culture and architecture, including many structures at El Tajín, an influence
that persisted many years after the downfall of the great central-Mexican city before the
8th century. Paula Krotser (1981) describes a ‘corridor’ from Teotihuacan to the
southeast. Since Olmec times, obsidian from the Basin of Mexico had been exported to
the Gulf coast. The Gulf area, together with the adjoining semi-arid region on the
foothills of the Sierra Madre Oriental, had a large population in the Formative period, as
is evidenced by the remains of important archaeological sites (p. 175). Krotser argues
 284

that ‘around 200 BC… some groups must have descended to the coastal strip, while
others emigrated to the Altiplano [i.e. the central Mexican highlands], where they would
mix biologically and culturally with another culture… from Cuicuilco-Ticomán… the
classic Teotihuacan elements would develop from this mixture’ (pp. 175-176).
In her discussion of this cultural interaction, Krotser says that ‘although we do
not know for sure whether people from the Gulf participated in the construction of
Teotihuacan, we do know that they participated in its trade network, and maybe in the
transmission of Teotihuacan’s religious ideas toward the Maya territory in the southeast.
We believe that the corridor of Teotihuacan sites extends all the way to the Gulf’ (p.
176). Matacapan is a major site in this cultural and commercial corridor between the
Basin of Mexico and the Gulf area. Located in the Los Tuxtlas mountains it is a site of
more than 70 mounds that shows very strong links with Teotihuacan. Matacapan’s
architecture has clear signs of Teotihuacan influence, such as talud-tablero features on
several buildings. Archaeological excavations there found ‘tripod vessels, ring-based
hemispherical bowls, figurines with articulated arms and an incense burner with
Tlaloc’s face’. Krotser regards as ‘very likely that the evidence points at Matacapan as a
very important station on the highway followed by the Teotihuacanos toward the Maya
area’ (p. 178).
El Tajín is one of the best-known archaeological sites in the Gulf lowlands. It
reached its peak near the end of Teotihuacan’s period of dominance (ca. AD 600-1100).
Krotser points out that some of the ‘chiefly priests’ from Teotihuacan arrived there after
the collapse of their great city, and their imprint includes the diagnostic talud-tablero
form, although the general style of construction differs from that of the central Mexican
prototype (Figure 102).
Krotser concludes her discussion by stating that ‘from the beginnings of trade in
Mesoamerica, the Veracruz region was a very important corridor. While the great city
of Teotihuacan was growing, the people of the Gulf region participated in some ways
[in this process]. During Teotihuacan’s glorious heyday, its merchant-emissaries
maintained rest stations from El Tajín in the north to La Mixtequilla and Matacapan in
the south’ (p. 182).
Manzanilla (2011) has contributed significantly to our understanding of the
interaction between the Basin of Mexico and the Gulf coast region in Classic times.
Manzanilla mentions ‘the existence of corridors of sites organized by the Teotihuacanos
in order to have access to zones of sumptuary resources on the coast of the Gulf of
 285

Mexico’ (p. 11). Manzanilla’s aim is to find out how the work force was managed by
the state, and how the working class participated in this flow of goods and people. This
research began by ‘reviewing the indications of storage of subsistence products and
goods… [and] analyzing what kinds of goods are stored and their final destination, how
they are stored (i.e. the types of containers used), the scale of storage… and finally, the
economic organization behind this process’ (p. 11).
Manzanilla notes that ‘in Teotihuacan we do not have clear indicators of the
centralization of production in the hands of state institutions, unlike other archaic states.
However, we do find household storage facilities in the apartment… compounds…
usually next to the kitchens… Likewise, in the barrio centers… we have aligned
kitchens and storage facilities in the periphery, which helped support the workers of the
barrio’s center’ (p. 11). Teopancazco was a barrio occupied by foreigners where we see
a wide variety of artifacts and elements from the Gulf coast, many of which were used
in the manufacture of costumes and headdresses for priests and soldiers; that is to say,
for the barrio’s intermediate elite (p. 15).
Manzanilla states that in the case of Teopancazco, the ruling kinship structure
(i.e. the ‘house’ sensu, Gillespie 2000) was in charge of male workers in the barrio who
came from the Gulf coast and perhaps from Tlaxcala and Puebla as well. These
‘foreigners’ worked in the manufacture of costumes, as mentioned above. This is
suggested by burials in the so-called ‘tailor’s sector’, since all the skeletons are of men
from outside Teotihuacan and have needles in their burial offerings. Manzanilla writes
that ‘some intermediate elites that headed the barrio centers may have been important
elements for the city’s administration… and they had enough freedom to sponsor
caravans [with] sumptuary goods that went to… the Gulf coast and Michoacán’ (p. 17).
In discussing the cultural-commercial corridor to the Gulf coast, Manzanilla
states that in order to understand the economic processes embedded in this trade route
we should ‘see what is going on in the sites of the Teotihuacan corridor toward the Gulf
coast… Xalasco is one of these sites, located near Huamantla, Tlaxcala… This site
attracted my attention as a possible way-station for the caravans that went from
Teopancazco toward Nautla [a settlement in Veracruz, near the Gulf coast] in order to
acquire marine animals, cotton mantles, and tailors, as well as other goods and people’
(p. 22).
Teopancazco’s multiethnic population consisted of three groups: local
Teotihuacanos, people from the nearby Puebla-Tlaxcala region, and others who came
 286

from afar, probably Veracruz’ coastal plains. This information is based on the analysis
of close to 40 burials, with emphasis on the ancient diet, and on the assessment of
isotopes in bone samples (both stable isotopes and isotopes of strontium 87/86).
Manzanilla sums up by stating that in Teotihuacan ‘we have found many raw materials
and goods coming from other regions of Mesoamerica, particularly the Gulf coast…
close to 12 varieties of fish of coastal lagoons, which may have arrived either salted or
smoked… [as well as] crabs, crocodiles, an egret from the Gulf coast, cotton mantles,
marine shells (not just from the Gulf, but also from the Caribbean and the Pacific
Ocean)’ (p. 25). Another ‘commodity’ included in the trade structure were workers
(perhaps slaves).
Robert Santley and Philip Arnold (2005) have studied the production and
commerce of obsidian, one of the most important goods in the Mesoamerican trade
structure, and a key commodity in the commerce between Teotihuacan and the Gulf
Lowlands during the Classic period. According to Santley and Arnold, ‘Teotihuacan did
not conquer a substantial part of Mesoamerica, as the Aztecs did… Rather, the city
dominated the production and distribution of luxury and utilitarian goods, the most
prominent of which was obsidian’ (p. 179). Teotihuacan controlled obsidian production
in the Pachuca source region in the Formative period. This obsidian eventually ‘became
the major medium utilized at Teotihuacan and throughout a large part of highland
Mexico during the Classic period… Control of alternative sources of first-class
obsidian… may also have been achieved during Classic times… Presumably, merchants
from Teotihuacan were the primary agents responsible for their exchange, as well’ (p.
180). In order to test this model, Santley and Arnold used information from the Tuxtla
Mountains of southern Veracruz, including ‘excavations at Matacapan, the region’s
principal urban center… Most of the excavations at Matacapan were placed in domestic
middens associated with residences and ceramic-production areas’ (p. 180).
Archaeological research carried out at Matacapan from the mid-1940s to the
present has revealed that the site was greatly-influenced by Teotihuacan. This evidence
may suggest that ‘Matacapan served as a way-station for traders on their way to and
from the Maya Lowlands. It also proved the basis for later claims that the site supported
an enclave of resident Teotihuacanos or their agents’ (p. 182). Three lines of evidence
were used by Santley and Arnold to propose that the site in question was heavily-
influenced by Teotihuacan during the Middle Classic period since: (1) at least one of the
local ritual-ceremonial structures (Mound 2) was built following the talud-tablero style.
 287

The structure’s central location at Matacapan implies that a major social group or
institution had close ties with Teotihuacan; (2) one or more habitation structures were
constructed following the Teotihuacan style, as they strongly resemble that city’s
apartment compounds; (3) many classes of portable artifacts in this part of Veracruz
were inspired or influenced by Teotihuacan: cylindrical tripod vessels with hollow
cutout supports, floreros and candeleros, and fine prismatic blades made of green
obsidian from Pachuca.
According to Santley and Arnold, ‘the content of this assemblage of portable
artifacts implies use during household ritual and food preparation and consumption…
Originally, we thought that these materials were confined largely to the Teotihuacan
Barrio… [but] we now know that they occur not only throughout Matacapan but also at
many other sites in the countryside’ (p. 182).
Obsidian was paramount among the strategic resources imported to the Tuxtlas
region. As it arrived in large quantities, it accounts for most of the lithic material used in
the region in pre-Hispanic times (p. 187). This was long-distance trade, because the
nearest sources were more than 450 km away. Matacapan was the major consumer of
green obsidian, especially during the Early and Middle Classic periods. Santley and
Arnold conclude their study with the following remarks:
The increase in Teotihuacan’s influence in the early Middle Classic occurred at a
time when goods produced in the city or imitations of them were widely
distributed throughout Mesoamerica. It was also during the early Middle Classic
when the population of the Tuxtlas grew by a significant margin, the result, in all
likelihood, of immigration from surrounding regions, and some of it perhaps
coming from Teotihuacan. This immigration process may have been physically
stimulated by the Teotihuacan enclave at Matacapan (p. 191).

The Maya area was also a target for Teotihuacan expeditions. According to
Geoffrey Braswell (2003), ‘the nature of interaction between… Teotihuacan and the
Maya of southern Mexico and Central America has been a fundamental question of
Mesoamerican archaeology’ for many years (p. 1). In the first half of the 20th century,
‘few scholars doubted that the presence of central Mexican-style artifacts represented an
actual migration and colonization of southeastern Mesoamerica by population segments
from the great city of Teotihuacan’ (p. 1). By the 1980s, thanks to sustained research
throughout the Maya region, ‘it was clear that the origin of state-level political
 288

organization… could not have been the result of Teotihuacan influence... But the two
cultures interacted, and evidence for that interaction is abundant’ (p. 6). A case in point
is the city of Tikal, in the Petén region of Guatemala. From the writings of Coggins
(1993), we know that ‘green obsidian, sometimes found associated with fortifications in
the third century AD’ may indicate that Teotihuacan was ‘pursuing its aims on the
Pacific coast of Guatemala… in the lowland Maya regions on the Caribbean coast of
Belice… and in the central Lowlands. At the end of the fourth century AD a ruler of
Tikal…, who wore a Teotihuacan military headdress on his inaugural stela, introduced a
kind of calendar reform’ at Tikal. Excavations at this site have discovered evidence of
Teotihuacan presence in the Maya Lowlands: ‘The talud-tablero and cylinder tripod
both made their appearance in the fourth century AD… At Tikal between AD 250 and
300 eight tableros were added to the façade of Structure 5C-54… [and] the whole plaza
to the west of Structure 5C-54 was converted into a Teotihuacan plaza with the talud-
tablero featured on each of the important buildings’ (p. 145). Another example of the
Teotihuacan style at Tikal is a Tlaloc figure carved on a fragmentary stela (Figure 103).
The changes mentioned above ‘took almost a century and may have involved
foreign men marrying into elite Tikal lineages. For these reasons, the excavated
Teotihuacan-like ceramic forms and the ritual they reflect were usually locally produced
and performed, as was similarly true of the Teotihuacan presence at… Kaminaljuyú and
on the Pacific coast’ (p. 146).
According to Coe (1984b), Kaminaljuyú flourished from the Miraflores phase to
the Esperanza phase (ca. 300 BC-AD 600), and at present is a major archaeological site
‘on the western outskirts of Guatemala City. The majority of the approximately 200
mounds once to be found there were probably thrown up by the Miraflores people,
whose rulers must have possessed a formidable economic and political power over
much of the Maya highlands at this time’ (p. 50). One example of the high cultural
achievements of the Miraflores people is the work of local artists, who were ‘capable of
creating sculpture on a large scale, in a… style that can only be called the forerunner of
the Classic Maya. Moreover, the elite of this valley were fully literate at a time when
other Maya were perhaps just learning that writing existed’ (p. 55).
Coe sees the disintegration of Maya culture in the highlands as a process that
‘began with the close of the Miraflores period, when building activity slacked at major
sites. In fact, by the end of the Proto-Classic, the great ceremonial center of
Kaminaljuyú… appears to have been a virtual ruin. Shortly after AD 400, the highlands
 289

fell under Teotihuacan domination. An intrusive group of central Mexicans… seized

Kaminaljuyú and built… a miniature version of their capital’ (p. 63). An elite class
originally from Teotihuacan ruled over a captive population of local Maya, and
eventually became ‘Mayanized’ to the extent that ‘the Esperanza culture which arose at
Kaminaljuyú during the early Classic… is a kind of hybrid’ (p. 63). An example of this
mixture of Maya and central-Mexican features is seen ‘at several complexes of
Esperanza architecture… Essentially these are stepped temple platforms with the typical
Teotihuacan talud-tablero motif’ (Figure 104).
The foreign lords of the Esperanza phase (ca. AD 300-600) used the platforms to
build elaborate tombs, which were furnished with ‘rich offerings of pottery and other
artifacts… [including] funerary vessels, undoubtedly containing food and drink for…
[their] own use… Few of the pottery vessels from the Esperanza tombs are represented
in the rubbish strewn around Kaminaljuyú, from which it is clear that they were
intended for the use of the invading class alone’ (p. 64). Some of the pots are decorated
with Teotihuacan motifs (Figure 105), and apparently in some cases they were actually
imported to the Maya highlands from Teotihuacan itself (Figure 106).
Coe sums up his discussion of interaction between the Maya and the Basin of
Mexico in the Classic period by stating that ‘the evolution of Maya culture in the
Southern Area, especially in the highlands, had come to a very abrupt end with the
establishment of Teotihuacan hegemony, and… Maya ways of doing things were
replaced with Mexicans’ (pp. 66-67). Coe asks the following question: ‘Were these
intruders warriors or traders?’ and argues that ‘they may well have been both’, citing the
case of an Aztec ‘special caste of armed merchants called pochteca, who journeyed into
distant countries in search of rare manufactures and raw materials not available in the
homeland’. In this scenario, ‘Kaminaljuyú may have been a south-easterly outpost of
long-distance traders from [Teotihuacan], established for the purpose of exporting Maya
riches for the Teotihuacan throne’ (p. 67).
The ancient Maya city of Copán has also provided information about
Teotihuacan expansion toward the southern Mesoamerican ecumene. Copán is located
in western Honduras, near the border with Guatemala. Sharer (2003) has noted that ‘the
best-known of the retrospective histories of Copán is Altar Q, famous both for its text
and for its portraits of sixteen Copán rulers around its four sides… The text of Altar Q
records that in September of AD 426, [a king] took the royal scepter, and three days
later he was given the Founder’s title’ (p. 144). Sharer suggests ‘that Teotihuacan was
 290

the location of [the king’s] inauguration events… In his Altar Q portrait… [he] is shown
as a Maya ruler… But he also is wearing warrior gear linked with Teotihuacan: goggles
over his eyes and a War Serpent shield on his right arm. Other Late Classic references
to the Founder associate him with Teotihuacan’ as well (p. 145).
Further evidence of Copán links with Teotihuacan consists of Thin Orange
ceramics reported by William Fash (1991), who tells us that excavations conducted at
Copán’s Principal Group
have… uncovered a number of Middle Classic period human burials, many of
them quite impressive in terms of grave goods—none more so than Burial V-6…
This individual [is] an adult male, [who] was buried in a seated position in a
stone cist several meters below the level of the Late Classic plaza floor… the
quantity and quality of the grave goods, along with the placement of the grave
near one of the most sacred buildings in the Principal Group, indicates that he
was probably either a member of the royal family, or of the ruler’s court. Among
the offerings were: a bowl of… Thin Orange ware imported from Central
Mexico (possibly from Teotihuacan… perhaps via Kaminaljuyu); an exquisitely
carved bowl, with iconic designs in Kaminaljuyu style (p. 93).

The present discussion of cultural interaction between Teotihuacan and the rest
of Mesoamerica during the Classic period has focused mostly on aspects of political
economy; that is, ‘the creation of wealth under the control of the elite, or for the benefit
of the state… destined to sustaining the political system, its primary institutions, the
families of the elite, and the people who depend on them’ (Hirth 2009a:17). The main
focus of this discussion has been the extraction, transformation, trade, exchange and
tribute of strategic commodities and resources, as well as the geopolitical structures that
allowed for the cultural and political influence of one polity –in this case Teotihuacan–
over an extensive territory over a prolonged period of time. But political expansion,
especially in the case of archaic states, usually goes hand-in-hand with the spread of
religion, belief systems and ideology (Conrad and Demarest 1984). In order to fully
understand the ample external relations of Teotihuacan we have to consider other
aspects of culture, beyond the material realm. In this regard, several authors have
discussed such topics as: ‘artistic abstraction and the rise of a utopian state at
Teotihuacan’ (Pasztory 1992); ‘icons and ideologies at Teotihuacan, the case of the
Great Goddess’ (Berlo 1992); and, ‘rulership, warfare, and human sacrifice at the
 291

Ciudadela: an iconographic study of deities and representation’ (Sugiyama 1992).

Along these lines of enquiry, Manzanilla (1992) has explored the interaction between
economic organization and religious institutions in the case of the Teotihuacan state, in
particular the role of the priesthood in the networks of the distribution of goods.
Manzanilla states that ‘some scholars… share the idea that tribute and market economy
are institutions present throughout the Classic and Postclassic horizons of
Mesoamerican history’ (p. 321), but Manzanilla proposes a different scenario, one in
which ‘tribute and market are historical by-products of specific organizational bodies of
the Postclassic horizon, preceded by other forms of surplus control and exchange’ (p.
321). Manzanilla then goes on to ask the following questions: ‘What kinds of goods
distribution networks are present at Teotihuacan; who controls them; which sectors of
the Teotihuacan society are involved in each circuit?’ (p. 321). In order to address these
issues, Manzanilla argues for the existence of two different organizational spheres. One
sphere would have been centered around the temple, and been responsible for the
development of the following basic institutions and strategies: the centralized
management of economic surplus; the activities of full-time specialists (artisans in
particular); the administration of a long-distance exchange network overseen by temple
emissaries; and, finally, the articulation of complex administrative systems. According
to Manzanilla, all of these instances are by-products of a redistributional system
administered by the priesthood. The second sphere concerns an organization centered
around the palace, which would account for the development of the following features:
a state in which tribute substitutes redistribution as the basic form of centralization of
surplus production; conquest was the primary means for ensuring the continued flow of
goods and land; and, markets that evolved as institutions closely-articulated to the
palace (pp. 321-322).
Based on an art-historical line of enquiry, Esther Pasztory (1997) has offered an
alternative view of Teotihuacan as a Mesoamerican state. Pasztory wrote that ‘the
Teotihuacan state existed in a historic Mesoamerican context, and the lack of dynastic
imagery may have very specific Mesoamerican references… Teotihuacan’s avoidance
of dynastic image-making as well as glyphic inscriptions is highly unusual… and
suggests that Teotihuacan was avoiding this type of commemoration intentionally as
inconsistent with its chosen identity as a “collective” rather than a personified power’
(pp. 234-235). Pasztory holds that ‘many aspects of the uniqueness of Teotihuacan lie in
the negation of widespread contemporary or general Mesoamerican practices.
 292

Teotihuacan chose to put its emphasis on the world of the sacred in its imagery’, thus
the city ‘presented the appearance of a more collective type of political structure than
the more dynastic rulership usually characteristic of Mesoamerica’. The Teotihuacanos
were ‘preoccupied by social order and the organization of the first huge city in
Mesoamerica rather than by ethnic conflict with [their] neighbors’ (p. 236).
In this section, I have discussed the most salient aspects of culture and society in
the Mesoamerican ecumene during the Classic period. For the sake of brevity, I have
limited myself to Teotihuacan and its role in the different culture areas that made up the
ecumene. This discussion allows for a contextualization of West Mexican archaeology
during the Classic period, which is the subject of the rest of this chapter.

The Classic Period in West Mexico

There were no great cities or powerful states in West Mexico to rival those of central
and southern Mesoamerica during the Classic period. Sociocultural development in our
area of study was marked, rather, by a great number of sites and cultures, each with its
own distinctive character and its own role to play in the pre-Hispanic history of the
Mesoamerican ecumene. What follows is a summary review of the available
archaeological information dealing with the western regions of the ecumene during
most of the first millennium (ca. AD 100-900).
Michoacán
The following extract from Dominique Michelet (1990) summarizes our knowledge of
Michoacán during the Classic period: ‘It has been said that during the pre-Tarascan
horizon Michoacán was characterized by a strong geo-cultural fragmentation. Today
we… believe that this image of Michoacán during the Classic was simply a product of
the scarcity of archaeological research’. Although Michelet sees ‘no strong centripetal
force before the emergence of the Tarascan Empire’, he mentions that ‘certain unifying
tendencies are evident through the first millennium AD… [and] the Zacapu region…
even attained some of Teotihuacan’s prestige’ (p. 288).
Among recent archaeological projects in West Mexico, we can mention the
excavation of the sites known as Las Lomas in the marshland and lake area around
Zacapu, Michoacán (discussed in Chapter II). These sites were occupied approximately
during the first eight centuries of our era (ca. 100 BC-AD 800) (Protoclassic-Classic
periods) (Arnauld et al. 1993: Figure 1), but were virtually abandoned afterwards. There
is a great cultural leap from the Formative-period tomb builders of El Opeño, discussed
 293

earlier, to the people who lived in Zacapu during the Protoclassic and Classic periods.
The Mesoamerican Protoclassic was a time frame characterized by a gradual transition
to a greater level of complexity from what existed in previous times. This process is
explained by Muriel Porter Weaver (1981), who sees the Formative as divided into
three –sometimes four– levels of development. In the first level, people lived in settled
villages, enjoying for the first time in prehistory an agricultural way of life. Pottery and
the first ceremonial centers appeared in this phase. The middle phase saw the advent of
fine pottery, ceremonial objects made of jade and other precious stones, complex
funerary traditions and extensive construction of mounds and other elaborate
earthworks. The late phase ‘was marked by an increased amount of ceremonial
architecture and a greater complexity of material goods. In some areas an additional,
transitional phase is justified, the Protoclassic, in which a blending with Classic-period
features is apparent’ (p. 56).
The abundance of funerary evidence in the Zacapu area has led some scholars to
believe that the people who lived there reserved the Las Lomas sites for funerary
purposes and other ritual activities, though it is possible that the people who went there
to honor the dead would also have taken advantage of the plentiful lake and marsh
resources (Arnauld et al. 1993:208; Carot 1994).
Loma Alta, the largest of the Lomas’ sites, was built mostly of earth and rocks,
supported by dozens of meters of walls. Loma Alta is a truly unique site: a ceremonial
center of primary importance from a sociopolitical and religious perspective. The
complex building methods employed there suggest the existence of a large, highly-
skilled work force (Arnauld et al. 1993:209-210). Ceramics from this site, particularly
the negative types, show great quality and technical skill in their manufacture, as well as
a complex iconography (Carot 1992, 1994) (Figure 107).
Carot and Susini (1989) reported on a funerary custom found at Loma Alta that
has never been seen in other areas of West Mexico, and perhaps nowhere else in
Mesoamerica: the pulverization of skeletons that were first cremated at high
temperatures and then placed in ceramic funerary urns that were buried in pits. Finds
included a total of 31 vessels (28 urns and three semi-spherical bowls), that contained
100 kilograms of ashes created by first cremating and then finely grinding the bones.
However, it is difficult to tell whether these remains are human or animal in origin
(Figure 108). It is possible to suggest that cremation was carried out in open-air ovens
like the ones used in Snaketown, Arizona (Carot and Susini 1989:112-115).
 294

Gregory Pereira (1996) conducted a study of burial patterns at Loma Alta, which
led him to affirm that this archaeological site had an important ceremonial and funeral
role, beginning in the late Formative period. Excavations in the northwestern sector of
the mound discovered an important funerary complex, as during the Loma Alta phase
(ca. 100 BC-AD 500) numerous burials were laid down in the same general area in four
consecutive stages. Several primary and secondary burials were found (Figure 109), as
well as a high number of pottery urns containing ashes, as discussed above.
From a physiographic perspective, the Zacapu basin pertains to the Neo-volcanic
axis. The lake that occupied this basin for centuries was completely drained at the
beginning of the 20th century in order to use the rich underlying soils for agricultural
purposes (Arnauld et al. 1993). The lake was of volcanic origin, and the entire
endorheic basin is linked to the region’s volcanic activity. Hydrologically-speaking, the
basin is linked to the Lerma River depression and the Bajío lowlands (p. 19).
The Zacapu Basin has gone through so many significant transformations –of a
social, ecological and political nature– that all historical and archaeological research
endeavors face serious challenges. The lake itself has disappeared, as mentioned above,
but the organic sediments and lakeshore deposits still bear indications of the nature of
the original landscape. Although recent human activity has been considerable in the old
islands and lake shore areas, it has not completely destroyed the traces of pre-Hispanic
occupation. There has been a Purépecha (i.e. Tarascan) indigenous presence in the area
since ancient times, and there is a ‘social memory’ (p. 21) of an older aquatic landscape
and aquatic lifeway in the lake and marsh areas inside the Zacapu basin, which will be
discussed in detail below.
In their discussion of the region’s flora and fauna, Arnauld et al. (1993) state
that altitude, latitude and human activity have allowed the presence of several plant
groups, particularly in the western end of the basin. We still find a pine (Pinus sp.) and
oak (Quercus sp.) forest cover at mid-altitude on the hillsides of the southern and
southwestern basin. In the malpaís inside the basin (i.e. a rocky landscape of volcanic
origin to the west of the Las Lomas area) we find forests of oak and madroño (Arbutus
sp.), but they are sparse due to intense exploitation aimed at obtaining carbon (p. 34).
Aquatic vegetation has largely disappeared from the area, except for a few
remnants around the former Lake Zacapu. Arnauld et al. (1993) state that at the time of
writing their report (late 1980s-early 1990s), there was still some exploitation of tule
(i.e. rushes of the following genera: Cyperus, Eleocharis, Juncus, Carex, Typha) and
 295

small quantities of floating vegetation in the swamp, particularly water hyacinth

(Eicchornia crassipes). The lake margins had another kind of floating vegetation,
known as césped in the Basin of Mexico, which is strong enough to support the weight
of a man. Other floating plants grow in the swamps and remains of the former Zacapu
Lake; these are called tzunbácuaro and peme, or papa de agua (i.e. water potato;
Sagittaria mexicana, Scirpus edulis). These tubers were still used for food by poorer
families until a few years ago (p. 35).
The local fauna in Las Lomas is comprised of small rodents such as gophers
(tuzas, Fam. Geomydae), opossums (tlacuache, Didelphis marsupialis), felines like the
onza or wild cat (Felis yaguaroundi), mice and rats (Fam. Cricetidae), rabbits
(Sylvilagus spp.); and skunks (zorrillo, Conepatus leuconotus). A few years ago, wild
pigs or peccaries (Pecarii tajacu) were still hunted, as were deer (Odicoileus spp.).
Indeed, in the 1930s deer still used to come down in great numbers from the malpaís to
the lake, searching for water in the dry season.
Several bird species can be seen in the area of Las Lomas: hawk or gavilán
(Buteo magnirostris); eagle or águila (Fam. Accipitridae); black birds or morracas
negras; crows or cuervos (Corvus sp.); trush or tordo (Fam. Turdidae); and vultures or
zopilotes (Coragyps atratus). Many bird species were hunted in the past, among them
the turtle dove or huilota (Zanaida macroura), ducks (Fam. Anatidae), and coots or
gallaretas (Fam. Rallidae). The latter still arrive in great numbers in the fall and winter
(October-March), but the diversity of bird species is much lower now than in the past;
there are few hunters now and they are not very knowledgeable about the different birds
of the region.
Fish in the present Lake Zacapu Basin are less abundant than before the lake was
drained, as one would expect. The current species still caught by fishermen in the
remaining water bodies are carp (carpa, Ctenopharingodon idellus), and carpa israel
(Cyprinus specularis), which were introduced in recent times. Some native fish species,
such as Chirostoma, are still found in the area.
According to Arnauld et al. (1993), the indigenous inhabitants of the lake shore
and islands remember the fishing techniques in use before 1900, and are still able to
identify several native species of fish. The local aquatic lifeway was based on many
other species in addition to the mammals, birds and fish mentioned above, for the
fishers of Zacapu, like those in most other aquatic environments in central and western
Mesoamerica (for instance, the Basin of Mexico and the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin), were
 296

able to hunt or gather a wide spectrum of insects, mollusks, frogs, reptiles and a
salamander called achoque (Ambystoma andersoni), a species that is still available at
Lake Pátzcuaro, where it is used for food and medicinal purposes (p. 36).
Arnauld et al. used ethnohistorical data from the 16th century, and gathered
ethnographic information (in the late 1980s) from the few indigenous inhabitants of the
area around Las Lomas. Thanks to these interviews, they were able to reconstruct
aspects of the aquatic lifeway as it existed in the late 19th century and the first half of
the 20th. According to those local informants, on one of the islands or promontories in
the lake basin there was a hamlet occupied by Tarascan Indians. Their houses were
made of carrizo (reeds) and chuspata (i.e. tule, or rushes), covered by a roof made of
grass called zoromuta. There were few trees, and no other plants (like maguey or nopal)
in the vicinity. Arnauld et al. also used ethnohistorical data from the 16th century; thus
they are able to report that ‘from the 16th to the 19th centuries… the effective
exploitation of Las Lomas’ relied on ‘an ecological and economic symbiosis between
the Lomas and the malpaís’ (pp. 46-47).
The 16th-century source called Suma de visitas (Paso y Troncoso 1905) has this
to say about the local environment and the people of Lake Zacapu at the time of the first
Spanish settlements in the region:
Zacapu… has nine barrios… with… 316 households and there are 1,480
people… they pay tribute in one year 320 pesos of tipuzque [copper] and 1,200
hanegas of maize and 30 hanegas of chili peppers and the same amount of
beans… also 120 pieces of clothing for Indians; and every year 24 salt loaves
and 35 bowls, and… every 23 days Indian labor… and the tamemes [porters]
that are needed for the encomendero to go to Mexico [City] or to Michoacán…
and every day four chickens from Castile. Except for fish days, when they pay
80 mid-sized fish and a bowl with clams and 30 eggs, and every day 200 tamales
and six loads of grass and four of firewood and half a hanega of maize. [Zacapu]
is settled on a meadow… it has some bare and stony hills, and… a big
meadow… there is a great [water] source near the town from which a lake is
born, where there are clams and some fish; the natives live from maize fields…
(p. 79). 1

1
Author’s translation. See original Spanish version in Williams (2014b: pp. 209-210).
 297

According to one of the local informants, the Purépecha exploited the tule from
Las Lomas, which they used to make petates (i.e. mats), and sold part of the production
to people from Lake Pátzcuaro. Another important subsistence activity was hunting
ducks, together with fishing and gathering wild plants such as tzunbácuaro and peme.
The people of Las Lomas also hunted deer and wild pigs, which lived in the hills and
neighboring forests (Arnauld et al. 1993:47).
At the end of the 19th century, the aquatic landscape of the Zacapu ciénega (i.e.
marshland) included areas of open water with a maximum depth of 14 m. At the center
of the basin there were a few small areas of dry land where maize was cultivated,
surrounded by small islands that always remained above water level. The whole area of
the marshes was covered by a dense vegetation consisting of tule, reeds and other kinds
of aquatic plants. In short, the landscape of Las Lomas consisted of small islands
scattered around the low-lying marshlands, until the water was drained away as part of a
major capitalist agricultural enterprise (the hacienda of Cantabria) that virtually brought
the local aquatic lifeway to an end.
As we have seen in previous chapters, the aquatic lifeway in Mesoamerica was
characterized by fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture. In Michoacán, we have
many outstanding examples of the subsistence strategies linked to this environment, in
areas such as the Cuitzeo and Pátzcuaro lake basins (see examples in Williams 2014a,
2014b, 2014c). In fact, the word Michoacán means ‘land of fish’, and the Zacapu marsh
environment certainly lived up to this name until it was converted to farmland in the last
century. Paul Friedrich (1970) made a systematic study of subsistence strategies in the
area under discussion at a time when many aspects of the aquatic lifeway were still in
existence; that is, in the first half of the 20th century. Friedrich’s findings can be of
assistance in reconstructing the subsistence patterns of ancient times (the following
account comes from Friedrich 1970, pp. 10-11 and 15). Lake Zacapu and a nearby water
spring called Ojo de agua were surrounded by willow trees, and were fed by the clear
water of several natural springs. Both the economy and the worldview of the local
people were defined in part by this peculiar ecological niche. This was a bountiful
natural environment in terms of plant and animal species, which were exploited by
means of fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture. There was some sexual division
of activities in the exploitation of the local resources; for instance, women and children
would excavate on the beach with sharpened sticks in order to collect clams or white
 298

roots. In just one hour they could fill a basket with sufficient material to prepare a
nutritious soup.
Other forms of wildlife used in the local diet included lizards, turtles, frogs,
polliwogs, snails and shrimp. There were also many edible plants, such as grasses
similar to spinach, as well as acorns, mushrooms and wild roots, all of which were
gathered in the fields and on hillsides. Many species of cactus provided tender leaves
that were eaten with chili sauce, while the sap of the maguey plant was used to make
pulque, a very nutritive alcoholic beverage.
Local hunters used rifles to kill deer and keep badgers, foxes and coyotes under
control. The local water fowl were quite important for the domestic economy as well:
ducks, divers and many others that lived among the rushes and the extensive areas
covered by marshlands and the lake. They were killed with 1.5 m-long wooden sticks,
slings and stones, or the fisga, a long reed spear thrown with the help of an atlatl.
People of all ages and both sexes caught fish with small nets made of maguey
fiber. The larger ‘butterfly net’ (still seen on Lake Pátzcuaro) was used mostly by a
single fisherman in a canoe, while the chinchorro or seine net (40 m long by 1 m high)
required the collaborative labor of two or three men.
All adult men were tule weavers, at least on a part-time basis, and some 50
families were engaged in the systematic exploitation of the extensive areas of lake and
marsh covered by rushes. This plant was used to weave mats of up to 5 sq. m. On
average, one person could make between three and five mats in one day. Another kind
of water plant exploited was the carrizo reed, which was used to make baskets,
including the kinds called chiquihuites and tascales. A few families supported
themselves solely by weaving carrizo containers, though most were also small-scale
farmers.
Agriculture in the Zacapu Lake basin was a major source of food for the local
population since ancient times. The survey conducted by Arnauld et al. (1993)
documented several aspects of this activity. On the southern and western shores of Lake
Zacapu we can see at present the existence of several kinds of aquatic agricultural
systems; including raised fields which form a continuous land feature that extends over
western and northern areas near the lake (p. 49) (Figure 110). Arnauld (1996) points out
the problems associated with defining the time frame when these land features were in
use: ‘Local conditions of urbanization and landscape modification are erasing the traces
of the past –even the recent past– in such a rapid and systematic manner that research
 299

[on this subject] will be harder to conduct in the future… It may no longer be possible
to prove… the hypothesis of Postclassic chinampas in Lake Zacapu’ (p. 74). Analogies
with other areas of Mesoamerica, however, may shed some light on the issue of early
agriculture in the Zacapu basin. In a recent study of intensive agriculture in the Basin of
Mexico, Nichols (2015) says that ‘recent models developed by climate scientists have
drawn attention to possible effects of longer-term climatic cycling on pre-Hispanic
agriculture… In the Basin of Mexico slight shifts in rainfall and temperature pose risks
for maize farming… Climate change, especially drought, has received renewed attention
as a cause of intensification’ (p. 410). Nichols also states that ‘agriculture itself is a
major cause of anthropogenic environmental changes’. For instance, in the case of ‘the
Early-Middle Formative floodwater canals… near Ecatepec… early farmers practicing
swidden cultivation of hill slopes [may have] caused the massive deposition of soil on
the alluvial plain’ (p. 410). According to this author, ‘there is good evidence for such
anthropogenic effects from early farming elsewhere in central Mexico… as farmers
expanded cultivation of the alluvial plain and piedmont slopes… they removed primary
vegetation (grassland and oak scrub and pine-oak forest above 2550 m) and altered
sedimentation’ (p. 410). A similar process may have been at play in the Lake Zacapu
Basin in pre-Hispanic times, but modern farming activities, together with deforestation
of the basin, and the desiccation of the lake itself, may well have erased this evidence
forever.
In the conclusions of the book Arqueología de Las Lomas en la cuenca lacustre
de Zacapu, Arnauld et al. (1993) raise important issues for future research: what kind of
human society lived in and around Las Lomas, particularly during the period of most
dense occupation (ca. 100 BC-AD 850)? They point out that in the case of Las Lomas
we do not know whether we are dealing with permanent settlements (i.e. towns and
villages or hamlets), or with people who went to the marsh and lake area from the
nearby mainland in order to perform certain specialized economic activities (i.e. fishing,
hunting, gathering, and so on). In other words, Arnauld et al. wonder whether we are
dealing with ‘small, marginal communities of peasants who eked out a living in difficult
conditions, or with a stratified farming society located in a particularly rich… marsh
environment’ (p. 207).
These questions may be resolved by geo-archaeological and geophysical
research in and around the Zacapu Lake Basin. Carot and Fauvet (1996) point out that
 300

Around the Loma Alta promontory there is a cluster of smaller mounds in an 18-sq. km
area near the western shore of Lake Zacapu. Before the desiccation of the lake, Las
Lomas functioned as small islands surrounded by marshlands, and Loma Alta –the
tallest of all the islands, at a height of 6 or 7 m– enjoyed a central location in this
context (p. 83).
At the beginning of the CEMCA study around Lake Zacapu (in 1983), the
archaeologists involved thought that Las Lomas had been used primarily for domestic
activities, ‘by a population of peasant-fishers who took advantage of the natural
resources of the marsh, and also practiced agriculture there’ (p. 83). However, the first
field seasons at Loma Alta (between 1983 and 1986) did not support this hypothesis.
According to Carot and Fauvet, everything seemed to indicate that this was a rather
peculiar place that did not seem to provide evidence of domestic functions; rather, it
appeared to have been an area of ritual activities, primarily of a funerary nature, at least
during the first archaeological phases (ca. 150 BC-AD 350).
Another surprise for the excavators at Loma Alta was the discovery of a great
number of highly elaborate architectural features, including supporting walls made of
worked stone built with a great degree of sophistication. Excavations conducted in 1994
further demonstrated the monumental nature of Loma Alta, as well as the complexity of
its system of construction. The areas of the mound to be excavated were chosen after a
general prospection based on magnetism and electrical resistivity, which resulted in a
‘magnetic map’ of the site (Figure 111). The archaeologists then proceeded to excavate
the areas of major building activity, using the map as a guide. The results were striking:
the excavations revealed a whole series of walls, stairs and other features, apparently
from the Postclassic period, which were quite invisible under the surface (Figure 112).
The Loma Alta archaeological phase has also been reported from the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin. Pollard (2005) conducted excavations at the Erongarícuaro site on the
western side of Lake Pátzcuaro between 1994 and1996. This site was chosen for
excavation because of Colonial documents which hinted that Erongarícuaro had been
ruled by an elite of local ethnic background during the Protohistoric period (ca. AD
1450-1530). Another reason for excavating there was that archaeological survey
conducted by Pollard in 1977 had shown that Erongarícuaro was one of the largest sites
in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Pollard estimates the population of this settlement in 1520
to have been at around 5,000-10,000 people, which would make Erongarícuaro the only
 301

other urban settlement in the basin apart from Tzintzuntzan, the capital of the Tarascan
Empire.
Four pits excavated by Pollard turned up fragments of wattle-and-daub, some
stone walls, a floor of compacted earth, and several burials. Preliminary studies of the
pottery suggest that this is a deposit pertaining to the Loma Alta 3 phase (ca. AD 350-
500), while a fragment of carbon found in a burial produced a C-14 date of AD 220. On
the basis of this date and the associated ceramics, Pollard interpreted the lowest deposit
(at a depth of 1.60-3 m) as pertaining to the Loma Alta 2 phase (ca. 50 BC-AD 350).
Regarding cultural relations between the Loma Alta complex and Teotihuacan,
as seen from the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, Pollard has stated that
Recent excavations at the Oaxaca Barrio in Teotihuacan, conducted in Structure
19 –a residential compound pertaining to the Early-Middle Classic period– have
documented a series of shared features with Loma Alta culture. These features
include funerary patterns, figurines and types of cranial and dental
modifications… This has led… [some] to think there was a presence of West
Mexicans, particularly from Michoacán, in Teotihuacan. This evidence shows
links with populations from the Lerma Valley and north-central Michoacán
during the Loma Alta 2 and 3, Jarácuaro, and Lupe phases. However, there are
some interesting differences… in the case of Teotihuacan, for example, the
figurines in Structure 19 appeared in the burials, a pattern that is not
characteristic of Michoacán, and the frequency of cranial modification… is far
greater from other sites in Michoacán (p. 287).

Moving to another lake area of Michoacán, we see that the Classic period is
represented in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin by pottery from Queréndaro that shows a
decorative technique not widely-known elsewhere in Mesoamerica, which involved
applying pigments after firing the vessels and then scraping them off to produce
geometric designs. Figurines from this site are very similar to those from Chupícuaro,
and this has led some scholars to believe that they represent a cultural tradition with
roots in the Formative period (Figure 113) (Macías Goytia 1989:174). The Lake
Cuitzeo region had many strategic resources (primarily obsidian) that attracted people
from other areas —perhaps even Teotihuacan, as discussed below.
Not far from the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, archaeological excavations at Loma Santa
María –a site on the outskirts of the present-day city of Morelia– have produced very
 302

valuable information on local developments in Michoacán during the Classic period.

The local sequence of human occupation probably began with a Preclassic culture
whose techniques of pottery decoration show links with the Red-on-Cream and
polychrome ceramics from Chupícuaro. Furthermore, the archaeological remains found
at this site suggest a close interaction with central Mexico, as the pottery uncovered here
pertains to the Teotihuacan tradition, mainly the II, IIA and III phases. These links with
central Mexico may have made it possible for the local population to acquire items from
other Mesoamerican areas as well, such as pottery from Morelos and Thin Orange
ceramics (apparently produced in Puebla), as well as vases and ‘toys’ that may have
come from as far afield as the Gulf of Mexico (Manzanilla 1988:153-155). The building
methods found at the site, albeit simple, are very similar to the typical Teotihuacan
talud-tablero style (Cárdenas 1999).
Another site in Michoacán where Teotihuacan materials have been found is Tres
Cerritos, located in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin (Macías Goytia 1994). The excavation of
one of the mounds at this site uncovered a tomb with offerings that show stylistic
features very similar to those of central Mexican materials. The tomb’s excavation
brought to light 19 primary burials, two human skulls with signs of decapitation and 11
secondary burials. Among the objects found in the tomb were 120 clay items, over
4,000 shell beads, jade, turquoise and rock crystal, as well as several conch shells and
numerous obsidian ornaments and tools. A mask made of obsidian in a clear
Teotihuacan style was also found in the tomb, as were abundant ceramic vessels
identical to those from Teotihuacan. All of the above seems to indicate that the
inhabitants of Tres Cerritos were somehow linked to the central Mexican highlands,
specifically to the great city of Teotihuacan (Macías Goytia 1994:34-35).
Indeed, Teotihuacan-style materials have been found in several sites in
Michoacán, primarily in the northern part of the state (Gómez Chavez and Gazzola
2007). Numerous sites with evidence of interaction with Teotihuacan are found in this
temperate zone of abundant conifer, oak and pine forests. This geographic zone is also
rich in water sources such as rivers, lakes and marshes. Several sites here show evidence
of Teotihuacan contacts, for instance talud-tablero architecture, ceramics (Figure 114),
stone sculptures (Figure 115) and green obsidian, among others (p. 125).
Cultural contact between Michoacán and central Mexico during the Classic
period appears to have been a “two-way street” in that ancient michoacanos (as the
inhabitants of the state of Michoacán are known) travelled to Teotihuacan and even
 303

resided in that great city, as mentioned above. Teotihuacan was occupied by peoples
from many areas of Mesoamerica, some of them living in ethnically-defined enclaves or
barrios (Millon 1981).
Another site that pertains roughly to the time period under discussion is
Tinganio, in the municipality of Tingambato, Michoacán (Figure 116). This site
apparently had two periods of occupation, according to the original report (Piña Chan
and Oi 1982): the first between ca. AD 450 and 600, and the second between AD 600
and 900. These dates have been revised in recent years, as I will discuss below. During
the latter stage, an architectural style was introduced that has been described as similar
to Teotihuacan’s talud-tablero technique (Figure 117). However, this identification is
problematic. According to Pollard (2005), ‘the use of architectural façades of the talud-
tablero type is poorly understood in Michoacán, where few sites have chronometric
dates and all cases of talud-tablero known to date are associated with Epiclassic
occupations’ (p. 287). Punzo (2016) agrees with this viewpoint: ‘The oft-cited presence
of talud-tablero decoration of Teotihuacan influence… must have arrived at Tingambato
after the collapse of Teotihuacan… in AD 575’ (p. 14).
The ceramics reported from Tingambato do not show any diagnostic
Teotihuacan features (Figure 118), as would be expected if we were dealing with a
Teotihuacan presence in this part of Michoacán. On the basis of a thorough study of the
ceramics at the site, this situation has been reported by Castañón and Punzo (2017) as
follows: ‘Tingambato had been considered as a site with a strong “interaction” with
Teotihuacan… but with the data now at hand this idea should be discarded’ (p. 147).
Tingambato’s location apparently was chosen not only because it is in a
privileged area with ample access to water and good soils (the site is at present
surrounded by avocado orchards and the area has some of the most fertile land in all of
Michoacán), but also because it is a strategic location between two ecological niches:
the cooler highlands and the warmer lowlands. Tingambato may have served in pre-
Hispanic times as a link between these two areas, as was the case during Colonial times.
The evidence for exchange recovered at the site includes seashells from the Pacific, as
well as turquoise from northern Mesoamerica, pyrite, jade and other resources that were
brought from afar (Piña Chan and Oi 1982:93-99).
The excavation of Tingambato’s Tomb II discovered a rich funeral assemblage
consisting of seashells of the following taxa: Spondylus princeps, Spondylus calcifer,
Tripsycha, Chama echinata, Pinctada mazatlanica, Agropecten ventricosus, Olivella
 304

damma, Oliva sayana, Strombus galeatus, Strombus gigas, Turbinella sp., and Conus
spurious. Most of the species come from the Pacific Ocean; only three are from the
Caribbean (Valdés 2018:131). In addition to seashells, 35 examples of green stone
artifacts come from Tomb II (p. 190), out of a total of 827 pieces found in many
contexts within Tingambato (p. 193). The list of stones used in the elaboration of these
sumptuary items (mostly beads) includes the following: amazonite, albite, turquoise,
green quartz, nacrite, chrysocolla, malachite, kaolinite and pyrite (p. 196). One last class
of artifacts consisted of cylindrical beads made of animal bone (species unknown) (p.
205) and bird bone (p. 206).
In 2015, Punzo (2016) carried out archaeological excavations at Tingambato that
have shed light on the site’s pre-Hispanic occupation. Punzo excavated three separate
stratigraphic units, and was able to obtain absolute dates by means of carbon obtained
from a collapsed roof beam and a hearth inside a room. These features were C-14 dated
at ca. AD 600-660, while organic remains on the room’s floor were dated at ca. AD
620-670.
The Bajío Lowlands
The period under discussion is still not well known in the Bajío region of Guanajuato,
so we cannot speak of a “Classic period” in the same sense that we do in central
Mexico. Hence, it is preferable to simply refer to the chronological period (ca. AD 250-
900), without suggesting anything about cultural evolution. Although this region had
some similarities with central Mexico and other areas of the Mesoamerican ecumene, it
had its own identity. The area’s cultural roots in Chupícuaro were enriched by other
traditions that arrived by way of the Lerma River corridor (Sánchez and Marmolejo
1990:269).
Faugère (1996) conducted fieldwork in the central portion of the southern Lerma
River Basin, between the highlands of the Neovolcanic Axis and the Bajío lowlands.
Faugère tells us that this is a transitional ecological region, a bridge of sorts between
two different landscapes. From a historical perspective, the Lerma River Basin can be
considered a zone of cultural transition, for in pre-Hispanic times it was the ‘meeting
point’ between two very different cultures: on one side, the Mesoamerican civilization
to the south, on the other, the nomadic Chichimec hunters adapted to the arid steppes of
northern Mexico (p. 13).
The expansion of Mesoamerican peoples between AD 500 and 1000 or 1200
was aided by the fact that climatic conditions in northern Mesoamerica were rather
 305

favorable for agriculture, thanks to relatively high humidity. However, this situation
changed after AD 1200, as increasingly dry climatic patterns emerged (p. 21).
Beatriz Braniff (1999) described the Bajío as ‘a region of alluvial basins and
lakes that were interconnected in the past’. Braniff pointed out that because of a ‘virtual
lack of archaeological sites below an altitude of around 1,800 m above sea level, it is
likely that in pre-Hispanic times this zone was not suitable for human occupation,
because of its excessive humidity and the existence of many lakes and marshes’ (p. 33).
On the other hand, she also pointed out that ‘the inundated lands of the Bajío
could have provided many strategic resources such as fish, water fowl and other aquatic
foods, as well as the potential for aquatic agricultural systems, such as chinampas or
raised fields. Another important advantage of the aquatic landscape was the many
communication routes that followed the region’s rivers, lakes and other waterways’ (p.
34).
Recent fieldwork by Darras and others along the Lerma River Basin has
modified somewhat the prevailing view as expressed by Braniff above. Darras et al.
(2016) hold that ‘in the fluvial system of the Lerma River, extensive areas are still
practically virgin in terms of the analysis of archaeological sites, especially those below
1750 meters above sea level. This is because such areas have long been thought
unfavorable for pre-Hispanic settlement because they were heavily flood-prone and
contained ample wetlands’ (p. 15).
The preliminary geo-archaeological study conducted by Darras et al. used
several remote-sensing techniques, such as: (1) satellite imagery to detect anomalies that
could represent archaeological sites; (2) aerial photography; and (3) electrical
conductivity tests. All anomalies were verified in the field, and many sites were located
with the help of informants. The last step was a systematic ground survey of the
possible areas of archaeological interest. All these different approaches revealed the
presence of many archaeological sites that had not been reported before. Darras et al.
concluded that ‘intra-site geodynamic patterns… demonstrated that the Bajío flood
plains had registered a succession of rapid sedimentary episodes contemporary with
certain pre-Hispanic occupations and some colonial and modern features’. This
fieldwork also showed ‘that the course of the Lerma River experienced alternating
periods of fluctuation and stability over the past 2000 years; a key parameter that must
be taken into account to optimize our understanding of settlement patterns on the plains
over time’ (p. 26).
 306

During the Classic period in the Bajío, several civic-ceremonial centers were
established on hilltops and slopes with defensive attributes, which may indicate some
degree of political instability due to the presence of war-like groups in the region. These
sites may have been used as refuges by the population that lived in the valley, for they
show an elaborate architecture and were established in locations with good access to,
and control of, important resources. The archaeological sites found so far have pyramid-
like structures located around plazas or patios, as well as platforms, ‘sunken patios’ and,
in some cases, circular buildings, as well as causeways and columns. The distribution of
these architectural features varies according to the topography, but the main pyramidal
structure usually sits in the eastern part of the main plaza or patio (Sánchez and
Marmolejo 1990:269).
During the second part of the Classic period (ca. AD 600-900), this region had
its own cultural tradition, though a certain instability is also discernible in the area,
perhaps linked to the first incursions of ‘nomadic’ groups from the neighboring northern
regions (Sánchez and Marmolejo 1990:276; see also Faugère 1988). Pre-Hispanic
settlements in the Bajío are characterized by large clusters of civic and religious
buildings that are clearly set apart from the habitation areas. These clusters of buildings
may have served as ruling centers of several political-territorial units. These
architectural complexes are distributed over the landscape according to a formal pattern
oriented towards the four cardinal directions. They were built atop great platforms and
included pyramidal structures, ball courts, elite dwellings, storage facilities, plazas,
open spaces and causeways (Brambila and Castañeda 1993:73).
After the establishment and climax of a farming society during the Classic
period, we see several modifications in the socio-political organization in the Bajío
region, apparently linked to the great upheavals that affected northern Mesoamerica
during the beginning of the Postclassic period (Faugère 1996:141). Braniff (2000)
summarized the archaeology of north-central Mesoamerica (Guanajuato, Querétaro and
San Luis Potosí) in the following terms: ‘This north-central region of Mesoamerica
occupies a xerophytic and grassland biotic zone. Precipitation in the area ranges from
400 to 800 mm annually, and it becomes more arid as one moves northward. Rainfall is
generally sufficient to allow temporal farming, which is, nevertheless, a risky endeavor’
(p. 35). The pre-Hispanic cultures in this part of northern Mesoamerica ‘seem to have
achieved their greatest development and complexity during the first millennium AD. A
general cultural collapse of the area began between ca. AD 900 and 1000, and after AD
 307

1000 to 1200 the occupants of the region returned progressively to… a semi-sedentary
or nomadic way of life’ (p. 35).
Writing in the early 1960s, Pedro Armillas anticipated the ideas expressed by
Braniff in the above paragraph. According to Armillas (1991[1964]), ‘the northern
limits of Mesoamerica at the beginning of the 16th century went from the Pacific coast
to the foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental at the edge of the highlands, traversing
several ecological zones that link western Mexico with the southwestern United States’.
At that time, ‘environmental conditions were similar on both sides of the frontier, and
the cultural contrasts were not significant. The nations living in both sides of the divide
shared a subsistence based on agriculture’ (pp. 207-208).
Along the rest of the northern borderlands, ‘the frontier line of civilization
coincided with the limits of permanent agriculture. Along many stretches of the frontier,
the sedentary peoples with high culture, most of them polities with a centralized and
powerful government, were directly faced by nomadic groups of hunter-gatherers’ (p.
208). The area where agriculture was feasible in the northern reaches of the
Mesoamerican ecumene at the beginning of the 16th century coincided with isohyets
(lines connecting areas that experience equal volumes of annual rainfall) of critical
importance. To the south of this cultural border ‘the dominant vegetation is prairie-like
in the plains and forest in the hills, while on the northern side of the border the
landscape is dominated by steppes, and further north by desert conditions’ (p. 209).
Armillas had studied the archaeological evidence ‘in the Bajío region, in the hills
of northern Guanajuato and Querétaro, and in southern San Luis Potosí’. He made the
following observations about this area, which was little-known at that time (ca. 1940s
and 1950s): ‘There are many archaeological sites indicating that before the 13th
century, sedentary peoples extended their range far to the north of the Lerma River
throughout the Mexican central highlands, reaching up to lands that today are barren
and sterile’ (p. 209). Armillas thought that ‘the beginnings of agriculture in this region
do not seem to have a great antiquity, and the stylistic relationships of pottery, as well
as architecture and the rare instances of sculpture so far known, place the first farmers at
around AD 600-1200’. Armillas concluded ‘that at the middle of the first millennium of
the Christian era the northern marches of Mesoamerican civilization were expanding by
a process of colonization from central Mexico to the Bajío and the northwest, across the
eastern foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental’ (p. 212). After reviewing the extant
 308

archaeological, historical, geographical and ecological evidence, Armillas reached the

following conclusion:
The advance of civilization in these territories ended in a total collapse. Between
the 13th and 14th centuries there was a massive exodus of sedentary peoples,
which resulted in a southward shift of the northern frontier of permanent
agriculture. The lands that were abandoned by the farmers were taken over by
the nomad hunter-gatherers. It is important to note that these areas are located in
a zone of climatic transition where a minor fluctuation in the aridity index can
mean a difference between prosperity and catastrophe for those farmers who
depend on seasonal (rain) cultivation. The safety margin for this type of
agriculture must have always been rather limited in this region (p. 220).

The area in question has been subjected to major, persistent droughts, called
megadroughts, for long periods of time. These climatic patterns have been studied by
Cook et al. (2016), who define megadroughts as ‘persistent drought events in the
preindustrial period with durations longer than a decade’ (p. 411). Cook et al. believe
that ‘recurrent droughts are a normal part of climate variability in Western North
America, and recent events (e.g. California, the Southwest) have highlighted the
vulnerability of people and ecosystems to the capricious nature of water availability in
this region’ (p. 411). There is much paleo-climatic evidence showing that ‘Western
North America experienced even worse droughts… over the last two millennia. These
events, many lasting multiple decades, had profound impacts on the contemporary
indigenous societies, vegetation, and landscape’ (p. 412).
In order to highlight megadroughts in the paleo-climate record, Cook et al. ‘rely
primarily on tree-ring-based reconstructions… The typical lifespan of trees (several
hundred to several thousand years) is well suited for the time horizon of the Common
Era. Trees are also widely distributed across North America, allowing for the
development of proxy networks that enable high resolution spatial reconstructions’.
Over much of North America ‘tree growth is highly sensitive to moisture availability,
ensuring high quality and well-validated reconstructions’ of climatic patterns (p. 413).
According to Cook et al., ‘droughts represent some of the most disruptive
natural disasters in North America, and the impacts of historical and more recent events
have been well documented’. Several hypotheses have been offered to account for the
causal mechanisms underlying megadroughts. It is difficult to determine ‘whether the
 309

apparent time clustering of events during and immediately after the Medieval Climate
Anomaly 2 represents a real response to solar and volcanic forcing, or is simply
coincidental. The alternative, that the ocean and land surface played pivotal roles, is
supported by modeling evidence and the critical importance of these drivers for
explaining persistent droughts during the historical era’ (pp. 413-414).
Stahle et al. (2011) conducted a dendro-chronological study of trees of the
Montezuma bald cypress species (Taxodium mucronatum) with an age of around one
thousand years. These trees ‘were recently discovered at two locations in north-central
Mexico, in the states of Querétaro and San Luis Potosí. On the basis of this discovery, it
was possible to develop a chronology going back 1,238 years’. Thanks to this find it has
been possible ‘to fulfill a long-standing goal of American dendrochronology: to extend
the long, exactly dated tree-ring method into Mesoamerica… where it might be used to
date archaeological sites and to reconstruct climate history during the rise and fall of
pre-Hispanic civilizations’ (p. 1).
The methodology involved in the study carried out by Stahle et al. ‘included the
extraction of core samples from the ancient trees, and the tree rings were cross-dated to
their exact calendar year of formation by means of dendrochronology, that is to say the
study of tree-ring growth over long periods of time’ (p. 1).
The results of this research were highly significant: ‘The new reconstruction of
the drought severity index is the first exactly dated millennium-long tree-ring estimate
of past climate yet developed for Mesoamerica… the reconstruction indicates that the
Terminal Classic drought extended into the central Mexican highlands from ca. AD 897
to 922’. This appears to have been ‘one of the worst mega-droughts of the past 1,200
years’ (pp. 2-3). The reconstruction presented by Stahle et al. also describes Late
Classic droughts at ca. AD 810-860.
This extensive study arrived at the following conclusions: ‘The reconstruction of
the climatic situation on the basis of tree-ring data confirms the existence of drought
conditions during the Terminal Classic, and documents its penetration into the
highlands of Central Mexico’ (p. 3). In terms of the timing of this central Mexican
megadrought, Stahle et al. mention the time span of ca. AD 897-922.
The Toltec state, meanwhile, was the dominant polity in central Mexico during
the early Postclassic (ca. AD 900-1200). However, this state experienced a collapse
2
This refers to a period of warm climate in the North Atlantic region, lasting from the 10th to 15th centuries. The last time the Earth
experienced a warm period due to natural changes in the planet’s orbit was during Medieval times, from around AD 950 to
approximately AD 1400. (Gavin 2012).
 310

around AD 1150, as indicated by Stahle et al. (2011) using archaeological, historical

and chronometric data. ‘This was a period of sustained drought, as reconstructed by
using tree-ring evidence’. This dendro-chronological reconstruction ‘is an estimate of
the soil moisture balance prior to the canicula (mid-summer drought), and early season
drought can negatively impact the germination, maturation, and yield of maize,
especially in highland Mesoamerica where freezing weather in autumn can truncate the
growing season and reduce yields’ (p. 4). Stahle et al. (2011) have shown that ‘the tree-
ring evidence for severe sustained drought during the major social transitions of the
Terminal Classic, Postclassic, and early Colonial eras provides… a new environmental
framework for the study of Mesoamerican cultural change’ (p. 4). As we will see, the
Mesoamericans took advantage of the climatic ‘window of opportunity’ during the
Early and Middle Classic to colonize the northern territories of the ecumene. But this
was a short-lived experience, and eventually the northern frontier would retract south
and the savannah landscapes would be taken over by the proverbial Chichimec hunters.
Turkon et al. (2018) have provided further evidence, including tree-ring data, to
shed additional light on the northward expansion of peoples following a Mesoamerican
cultural tradition. Turkon et al. hold that ‘one of the many theories to explain the
northern expansion of the Mesoamerican frontier during the Classic period continues to
be accepted today’ (p. 103). This theory holds that ‘during the Classic period, perhaps
around AD 450-500, a group of Mesoamerican people moved north because of the
opportunity provided by an increase in regional rainfall, which supported an agricultural
lifestyle in a region previously too arid’. This theory also attributes the subsequent
abandonment of the northern territory ‘to a drought, or a return to the previous arid
conditions, which drove the agriculturally dependent society back into central and West
Mexico, around AD 850… There are two major problems that have prevented
archaeologists from testing and addressing this theory’. First, the calibration of single
radiocarbon dates is not precise enough, since it ‘gives wide ranges of calendar dates
that are not precise enough to pinpoint the times of earliest arrival, cultural changes, or
abandonment of settlements’ (p. 104).
The second problem is that most of the studies that directly address the climatic
change hypothesis seem to ‘indicate that climate conditions were stable during the
Classic period [with] a somewhat moister period between AD 500 and 725 and a several
decades-long dry interval in the middle of the late eighth century’ (p. 105). We now
know that during ‘the past millennium… drought conditions which could have severely
 311

affected the stability and longevity of pre-Hispanic agricultural communities in northern

Mexico did frequently occur’ (p. 105). In spite of the challenges mentioned above, the
studies conducted by Turkon et al. ‘have produced optimistic results that
dendrochronological methods for northwest Mesoamerica… have the potential to
address questions that require fine-scale chronologies that still elude archaeologists’ (p.
118).
We will now discuss two of the many sites that flourished in the Bajío during the
Classic period: Plazuelas and Cañada de la Virgen. Plazuelas is located in the southern
foothills of the Sierra de Pénjamo, in the southwestern state of Guanajuato. According
to Carlos Castañeda (2007), Plazuelas was built between AD 600 and 900, and is one of
the most complex sites of the Bajío region. Guanajuato reached its greatest population
density during the Late Classic period. The core architectural area of plazas, mounds,
causeways and a major ball game court at Plazuelas was studied and partially
reconstructed by Castañeda, who describes the site thus: ‘On top of three slopes
separated by gullies… buildings were constructed in a dispersed pattern, linked by long
causeways and trails going up and down among the hills, all leading to the same water
spring’ (p. 21). One of the salient features of this archaeological site is a ball game court
with an east-west orientation, measuring 55 m long by 11 m wide (Figure 119). The
court is associated with a series of terraces and living areas (p. 23), and there is a fresh-
water spring around this area of the site. Apart from the ball-game court and the
domestic constructions, there are no other archaeological features, so the surrounding
land may have been used for agricultural purposes in ancient times.
Some buildings at Plazuelas appear to follow different architectural traditions,
including one variant of the talud-tablero technique (Figure 120), as well as
architectural adornments with central-Mexican iconography (Figure 121). This may
indicate cultural contact among several groups from western and central Mexico.
Another interesting feature at Plazuelas is a circular building, 45 m in diameter, that
may represent a local variation of the Teuchitlán tradition’s landmark architecture.
According to Castañeda, ‘Plazuelas was the axis of an extensive territory… the
elite lived in a part of the site on the slopes and near the water spring, while the rest of
the people occupied the lower slopes and valleys among the farming fields’ (p. 85).
Foreign cultural materials found here suggest that Plazuelas was involved in a trade
network that included turquoise from New Mexico, conch shells from the Caribbean,
and jadeite from Guatemala (p. 65). Around the 10th century AD, Plazuelas lost its role
 312

as a regional center, and at some point it was abandoned ‘for reasons that we do not yet
understand; the site became a ruin, covered by earth and vegetation’ (p. 65).
Some 115 km (71 miles) northeast of Plazuelas lies the Cañada de la Virgen site
(Zepeda 2007), a pre-Hispanic settlement built on top of a slight hill slope surrounded
by deep gullies. One of the sectors of the archaeological site that were studied and
partially reconstructed is known as ‘Complex B’ (Figure 122), an area of plazas and
elite architecture. Complex B’s location within the ceremonial center ‘suggests a
relationship with the winter solstice (21 December), when the longest night of the year
takes place’ (p. 80). Near Complex B, ‘Complex A’ includes a sunken patio with a
pyramidal structure on its southwest end (Figure 123). One of the most important
natural features at Cañada de la Virgen is a pond (Figure 124), which ‘must have had
an important role in the decision to build the original settlement there’ (p. 83). We know
that the pond is a natural formation, but it was modified in order to give it the shape we
see today, and became an indispensable water reservoir. Paleo-pollen studies conducted
in this area of the site suggest that at some point in the past the surrounding area was a
forest, with large-sized trees such as nogal or pecan (Carya sp.); fresno or ash tree
(Fraxinus sp.); aile or alnus (Alnus sp.); and, encino or oak (Quercus sp.). Hence, the
ancient landscape was quite different from what we see today. The geographic context
where the site of Cañada de la Virgen is located is dominated by gullies that form a
‘green circle’ on the north, south, and east sides of the site. According to Zepeda (p. 83),
‘this ecological niche harbors some 150 varieties of plants and over 40 animal species’,
while an archaeological survey in the gullies has shown that the pre-Hispanic
population had access to a wide range of natural resources.
After decades of neglect, the Mexican archaeological establishment is finally
turning its gaze toward the Bajío. However, the first priority has often been the
reconstruction of pyramids and other monumental features, an ‘embellishment’ of
archaeological sites that is aimed primarily at promoting tourism. A good example of
this situation is the work performed by INAH archaeologists at the site of Peralta,
Guanajuato (Cárdenas 2007).
The Bajío is part of a great cultural area known as North-Central Mexico, a
region where several elements are present which set it apart from the rest of
Mesoamerica. Foremost among these characteristics is the region’s role as a frontier, its
Chichimec past, and the somewhat ambiguous situation in which the region’s native
groups existed, particularly during the first millennium of our era. These and other
 313

features have fueled much debate, and have resulted in numerous definitions of the
geographic-cultural area in question (Viramontes 2008: 13). Kirchhoff (1954) suggested
that the human groups who occupied the states of Querétaro, Guanajuato, San Luis
Potosí, Aguascalientes and Zacatecas were part of a huge cultural area he called Arid
America. The best-known groups who lived here were the Pames, Guamares,
Guachichiles, Zacatecos, and others, all of which, according to ethnohistorical sources,
shared a mode of subsistence based on hunting and gathering, though certain groups,
such as the Pames, had distinct linguistic and ideological backgrounds.
In the 1960s, Armillas and Braniff came to the conclusion that there was
sufficient evidence to integrate this ‘peripheral’ region into the Mesoamerican ecumene,
at least between the Terminal Formative and Early Postclassic. Eventually, Braniff
suggested including this area of northern Mexico into the ‘Gran Chichimeca,’ the name
given by the Spanish to the northern borderlands. Whatever the case may be, this latter
designation carries the notion of a separate entity, of a ‘Chichimec north’ vis-a-vis the
‘civilized south’, and should be applied exclusively to the last years of the pre-Hispanic
period (Viramontes 2008:14).
Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit
Turning now to the lake district of Jalisco, the Classic period is best represented by the
Teuchitlán tradition (Weigand 1985, 1990, 1994, 1996a). There, the Ahualulco phase
(ca. AD 200-400) witnessed the intensification of cultural processes that were already
underway during the Late Formative, as discussed in the previous chapter. The
Teuchitlán people built monumental ball courts, usually associated with platforms or
pyramids, as well as great architectural circles with high mounds. The lake area’s center
of gravity began to shift during the Classic period towards the Ahualulco-Teuchitlán-
Tala valleys, with a decrease in sites in neighboring areas. This suggests that the
demographic implosion of the Teuchitlán I phase (ca. AD 400-700) began in the Early
Classic period (Weigand 1990:29).
During this period in the area under discussion there was a two-tier hierarchy of
ceremonial centers; the most complex of which (Teuchitlán), as we have seen, had ball
courts and complexes with rectangular plazas and patios that may have served as elite
residences. There were three types of non-ceremonial archaeological sites: (1) small
villages with many plazas and patios with burial areas; (2) small villages with numerous
plazas and patios but no burial areas; and (3) small villages with at least two plaza-patio
complexes, but also no evidence of burial areas.
 314

Weigand (1990:31) has reported a complex settlement system in the Teuchitlán

area that contained at least four levels of magnitude, though all settlements share one
particularly important trait: strategic locations with easy access to good agricultural
lands. Indigenous agricultural infrastructure around Lake Magdalena, Jalisco, included
large-scale works similar to the chinampas of central Mexico or the ‘raised fields’ of the
Maya area. This sophisticated agricultural technology must have provided food for a
large population in pre-Hispanic times, mainly during the Classic period (Weigand
1996a).
Glenn Stuart (2005) conducted a study of the features of the agricultural lands
around Lake Magdalena (Figure 125), discovering that the construction, use and
abandonment of the raised fields (Figure 126) coincided for the most part with the
origin and downfall of the Teuchitlán tradition. Citing Weigand’s (1996a) research in
the Lake Magdalena region, Stuart (2005) suggested an increase in population in this
area around AD 100-300, with a sustained high demographic level until ca. AD 600 and
a collapse at some point between AD 600 and 800 (p. 195). Stuart states that ‘the
chronological concordance between population growth on the one hand and the
construction or intensification of the raised fields on the other hand, suggests the
possibility that both processes are mutually related’ (p. 195). In conclusion, Stuart
believes that the extant archaeological information supports a theoretical model in
which a state-level polity controlled and organized the irrigation systems in the valleys
around the Tequila Volcano. However, it is not clear whether this is more closely-
related to questions of political economy or demographic processes.
The archaeological data gathered to date seem to indicate that West Mexico
beyond Michoacán –in particular the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area– was not as strongly
influenced by central Mexican cultures during the Classic period as other regions of
Mesoamerica, such as the Valley of Oaxaca, the Gulf coast, or the Guatemalan
Highlands, which is evidenced by the distribution of Teotihuacan features throughout
Mesoamerica (Santley 1983, Table 2). Finds of Teotihuacan ceramics in Western
Mexico, apart from those already discussed, have been few and far between, and limited
to just a few sites in Colima (McBride 1975; Meighan 1972; Matos and Kelly 1974).
Archaeological data from Jalisco and Nayarit during the Formative period seem to
indicate that Western Mexico –in particular the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit region– was free
of Olmec influence, while the Classic period lacked a strong presence of cultures from
central Mexico (Weigand 1992:227-228).
 315

During the Classic period, the Teuchitlán tradition prospered in the lake area of
central Jalisco and the surrounding valleys. Ericka Blanco (2018) documents a thriving
craft production of stone tools (mostly obsidian), pottery and perishable goods made of
tule, which took place on the island of Atitlán in ancient times. Many of these
manufactures, such as petates (i.e. mats), sopladores (fans for cooking fires) and sacks
(called tumpiates) used for storing and transporting agricultural produce, were made on
that island and the surrounding lake shore of the Laguna de Magdalena until the early
20th century. This domestic industry documented by Blanco was part of an aquatic
lifeway similar to the one we still find in the Cuitzeo and Pátzcuaro lakes of Michoacán
(Williams 2014a, 2014b, 2014c). Although the Magdalena lake itself was drained in the
1930s, putting an end to those aquatic activities, several elderly informants were able to
recall the aquatic mode of production as it existed in their youth (Blanco 2018:168). In
addition to the manufacture activities mentioned above, many species of aquatic fauna
and flora were exploited by fishing, hunting and gathering; all of which were important
complements to local agricultural production, particularly in pre-Hispanic times.
The pre-Hispanic and Colonial period village of Atlitic is now a town called San
Juanito de Escobedo. This village was located on the lake shore and local informants
report that ‘the lake… was regarded as an environment for subsistence. From the lake
people could procure a wide range of food products and raw matter for crafts… The
means of transportation on the lake was with canoes propelled with wooden poles’ (p.
171). Before the lake was desiccated, local people fished and hunted water fowl,
amphibians and land animals. Informants mentioned many aquatic birds present in the
early 20th century, such as garzas or egrets (Ardea alba), huilotas or mourning doves
(Zenaida macroura), ducks (Anas acuata), and gallaretas or American coots (Fulica
americana). Among the mammals that lived in the lake, informants mentioned the
following: nutrias or otters (Lontra longicaudis), rabbits (species not identified), white-
tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), armadillos (Dasypus novemcinctus), tlacuaches or
opossums (Didelphis virginiana), and many rodent species, all of which represented
prey for predators like the gato montés or bobcat (possibly Lynx rufus).
Fishers caught many species of fish, such as carpas or cyprinids (Fam.
Cyprinidae), mojarras (Fam. Gerreidae), pez blanco or white fish (Coregonus sp.) and
charal (Chirostoma sp.), among others. Frogs were also eaten, as well as other
amphibians and water snakes. The aquatic environment allowed for gathering fish roe,
as well as the eggs of waterfowl and many plant species used for food (such as algae)
 316

and craft production (tule or rushes, and perhaps carrizo reeds as well). According to
Blanco (2018), in the early 20th century some 80% of the families in the lake area
supported themselves by ‘the manufacture of objects made of tule… the workshops
were found inside the homes… tule was a [primary] economic activity for the
craftspeople who made petates, sopladores and tumpiates, and also for the tuleros, the
people who supplied the artisans with the raw material (tule) that grew around the lake
shores and in the [shallow] waters of the lake’ (p. 174). The main area for gathering this
plant was Atitlán Island, where the stalks were dried under the sun and later taken by
canoe to other parts of the lake area.
In his archaeological study of the central Jalisco area, Beekman (1996) states
that ‘at some point during the Middle Classic or Epiclassic periods [ca. AD 600-900/
1000], West Mexico suffered dramatic transformations that many authors have
described as the “mesoamericanization” of this region… and whose features have been
frequently judged to be of a “Toltec” nature… Likewise, it has been suggested that
several sites have evidence of a “Teotihuacanoid” cultural orientation’ (p. 247).
Beekman presents an alternative scenario, in which most of the archaeological materials
that supposedly reflect influences from the Central Mexican Highlands (both
Teotihuacan and Toltec) in northwestern Mesoamerica actually represent ‘a
transformation from the Epiclassic period, which originated in Guanajuato. The central
highlands do not seem to have played an important role in this case, unless the fall of
Teotihuacan is seen as an impulse to the rapid growth and expansion of regional polities
in the west and north’ (p. 247).
According to Beekman, ‘during its heyday in the Epiclassic, the architectural
tradition of El Bajío expanded toward adjoining areas, appearing together with a
distinguishable ceramic complex’ (p. 251). An example of this process comes from the
Lake Zacapu area, where we find U-shaped ceremonial architecture and other forms
derived from the north. Another example is the sunken pyramid patio-altar complex in
Tingambato, which includes ceramics similar to the Lupe phase at Zacapu (pp. 251-
252). Beekman arrived at the following conclusions regarding the Late Classic-
Epiclassic period in Jalisco and adjoining areas: ‘The transformations in West Mexico
and northern Mesoamerica during the Epiclassic were not caused by some sociopolitical
macro-system in particular, and certainly not by one in the Central Mexican Highlands,
which has usually received too much credit for events that took place in distant regions
of Mesoamerica’. Beekman holds that ‘the considerable increase in economic activity
 317

during this period can best be attributed to the proliferation of small, unstable chiefdoms
whose demands for substantial amounts of prestige goods may have been greater than
those from Teotihuacan. We should have a more refined chronology for the region…
before postulating cause-and-effect relationships among the shifting populations’.
Beekman concludes that ‘the archaeological evidence of considerable population
movements from the northern periphery seems stronger now for the Epiclassic than for
the migrations documented ethnohistorically… during the Postclassic’ (p. 260).
Meanwhile in the Colima Valley, Olay carried out an archaeological
investigation in which she dealt with cultures pertaining to the Classic period. In her
report on this research, Olay (2012) states that the chronology of the shaft-tomb
tradition of West Mexico was first defined by Kelly on the basis of a Teotihuacan Thin-
Orange vessel she found in a tomb in Chanchoapa (near Tecomán, Colima) in 1939. In
addition to this fortuitous find, Kelly noted that certain other vessels had Teotihuacan-
derived shapes and decorations (Figure 127). This proved that at least some of the shaft
tombs in Colima had been contemporaneous with Teotihuacan’s heyday (Early Classic),
although this cultural contact with central Mexico is more evident in eastern Colima
than in the western part of the state.
According to Olay, Kelly bemoaned the lack of archaeological contexts from the
Ortices phase (ca. 500 BC-AD 500) in central Colima. This situation was due to the fact
that later occupations altered the Ortices materials, and serious problems like
widespread looting and ground-leveling for agriculture with heavy machinery did not
help either.
Olay studied the Comala site, near Colima City, a site that showed the
characteristic layout of the Teuchitlán tradition; that is, a cluster of circular platforms
with central mounds (Figure 128). Two of the architectural circles are of monumental
proportions, and Olay also reports the remains of looted monumental shaft tombs at this
site, one of them with three chambers.
Although the relationship between Teotihuacan and the Colima area has been
duly noted by Olay and others, the Teuchitlán tradition is a different matter. Olay writes
that ‘we still need to deal with the relationship that may have existed between the
Colima Valley and the nuclear area of the Teuchitlán tradition… Colima lacks obsidian
deposits, a resource that was virtually indispensable for pre-Hispanic technology… the
obsidian samples recovered by Philip Weigand in Comala indicate an original
provenience from the Ahuisculco and Navajas deposits [or the] Tequila Volcano [in the
 318

Municipio of Tala, Jalisco]’ (pp. 358-359). Shaft tombs were still being constructed in
Colima during the Classic period and materials looted from funerary contexts have
found their way into private collections and museums. Those artifacts include a bat-
shaped carved shell pectoral (Figure 129a), a horned acrobat with phallic attributes
(Figure 129b), and a vessel with parrot features (Figure 129c) (De Santiago 1996).
The northern region of the Armería Axis –i.e. the Colima Valley proper– was
apparently exposed to influences from the core area of the Teuchitlán tradition. This is
seen clearly at sites like Comala, and in the trade in obsidian between the two areas.
Meanwhile, the eastern part of Colima seems to have sustained a close relationship with
the cultural corridor that led to the obsidian deposits in Zinapécuaro and Zináparo,
Michoacán. Some groups pertaining to the Chupícuaro tradition moved along this same
corridor, perhaps seeking products from the hot lands, such as cotton and fine feathers,
as well as salt, ilmenite and sea shells from the Pacific coast.
In her excavations at El Manchón-La Albarradita, mentioned in the previous
chapter, Olay (2016) found two small clay figurines pertaining to the Teotihuacan style.
Olay has the following to say about this find: ‘Both items recall without a doubt the
characteristic Teotihuacan style, which… had a great influence throughout
Mesoamerica, even though in regions such as Colima the stylistic features arrived with
the nuances of those regions through which it crossed. The first [figurine] is a male with
a headdress… similar to representations of [the] Teotihuacan IV [phase]’ (p. 390). This
was an articulated figurine whose arms and legs were movable (Olay 2016: Figures 119
and 120).
Additional information about Colima during the Classic period has been
provided by Ana María Jarquín (2002), who explored the site of La Campana (located
on the northeast outskirts of Colima City) and its relationships with central Mexico.
Jarquín states that her excavations at La Campana have allowed her ‘to define some
characteristics that link elements of the ancient settlement with one of the most
important societies of Mesoamerica during the Classic period: Teotihuacan’ (p. 1).
Jarquín and Martínez (2018) point out that La Campana was oriented toward the
Volcano de Fuego, and that the site’s ‘spatial distribution follows a plan and an urban
organization. Its original size was over 500 hectares… with nucleated settlement. In the
southern side is an acropolis [sic] or religious-administrative center… it is defined… by
great superimposed stepped platforms’ (pp. 1-2). At the top of the platforms one can see
‘sacred and administrative’ buildings, and perhaps the dwellings of the elite. Jarquín
 319

and Martínez also report altars, pyramids with several superimposed bodies and
stairways flanked by balustrades, as well as ‘patios and great plazas’. To the north of the
ceremonial-administrative center there is a four-meter wide central avenue that runs
from north to south, crossing the entire site. There is also another avenue running from
east to west. Jarquín and Martínez explored an area of roughly 30 m2 at the site’s center,
where they found a rectangular structure formed by superimposed stepped platforms
with an orientation to the north and a plaza towards the front. There are nine shaft tombs
under the plaza that contained human interments with offerings consisting of jade beads,
pottery, masks, an anthropomorphic brazier and a clay dog figure.
Jarquín and Martínez state that ‘La Campana’s heyday was during the Classic
period, during which time La Campana functioned as an outstanding economic,
religious and political center, with important relationships with the great urban center of
the Mexican highlands: Teotihuacan’ (p. 3). These two centers may have sustained
important trade connections, since many sumptuary or luxury materials from Colima
have been found at Teotihuacan; for instance, marine shells. The Teotihuacan-Colima
nexus is further attested to by the presence of talud-tablero architecture at La Campana
(p. 3).
The Classic period in Nayarit is less well-known than in Michoacán, Jalisco or
Colima, though we do know that the shaft tomb tradition persisted there at least during
the Early Classic period. Zepeda (1994) has written that the people pertaining to what
we now call the ‘shaft-tomb tradition’ built their villages and temples, some of which
remain today as stone foundations and rock alignments on top of low-level
promontories. In the sierra of Nayarit Zepeda (1998) has found that houses and other
buildings were erected using adobe, twigs, wattle-and-daub and palm-leaf roofs. Some
houses had a circular layout, while square foundations were reserved for the shrines.
According to Zepeda (1994), towns and villages were erected on slopes,
meadows, plains and valleys, always near good farmland and water. The people who
built the shaft-tombs made their own clay griddles, pots and dishes, while artifacts made
of obsidian and other stones were used for hunting, fishing and gathering, as well as for
working the soils and grinding seeds, such as the ever-present maize. These people lived
with the essential tools and directed their greatest effort and attention to their deceased
ancestors, for whom they built dwellings deep below the surface of the earth,
accompanied by outstanding offerings. This ‘underground architecture’ involved
 320

digging a vertical pit or shaft to a certain depth and then excavating lateral chambers at
the bottom on both sides (Figures 130 and 131).
Zepeda suggests that the tombs she excavated in southern Nayarit were used for
a period of many centuries, as the community or family groups buried their dead for
many generations. Surely the tombs were excavated in the dry season once a year in
order to bury all the people who had died during that time or shortly before, in a context
of communal rituals (p. 27). In many cases, there is evidence that tombs were reopened
to bury the recently deceased; in these instances the bones from previous interments
were piled up together with the offerings. Zepeda says that ‘the funerary assemblage
included clay sculptures and pots, personal adornments, seashells, conch shells, and
some stone implements… It is thought that human sculptures represented specific
individuals or even ancestors, while the “warrior figures” were shamans who protected
the dead against the perils of the netherworld… animal figures were representations of
the deceased’s nagual or guardian spirit’ (p. 28).
Zepeda uses the term ‘culture of shaft-tomb builders’ to characterize this ancient
people and holds that they persisted in Nayarit and neighboring parts of West Mexico
until ca. AD 600-650, when ‘architecture became more complex, with the construction
of great towns around circular patios. The abundant clay sculptures suggest the
existence of ball players, potters, musicians, and witches or warriors… they also speak
of social stratification’ (p. 28). The presence of products brought from afar and the
richness evident in some burials also indicate a certain social differentiation among
individuals. The earliest human occupation in the Valley of Ixtlán (southeastern
Nayarit) is linked to the aforementioned shaft-tomb tradition (ca. 200 BC-AD 600).
Zepeda has written that ‘this cultural tradition is known as the Classic period of Nayarit,
or period of village communities’ (p. 35).
We discussed Meighan’s (1976) excavations at Amapa in Chapter II. Meighan
recognized two major periods of occupation at Amapa: Early (ca. AD 250-750) and
Late (ca. AD 900-1500) (see Meighan 1976: Figure 6 for period sub-divisions). In
reviewing the site’s chronology, Meighan states that ‘it was recognized early in the
fieldwork that there was a sharp difference in pottery and most other artifacts of the
Early and Late periods. Within the Late period… there is a clear cultural continuity and
the ceramic phases are separated primarily on the differing frequencies of pottery types
rather than on replacement of one set of types by another’ (p. 48). Regarding the Early
phase, however, Meighan writes that there are significant differences ‘in its artifact and
 321

pottery and shows little continuity with the Late period… In the task of analyzing the
whole site, and not just the potsherds, it is apparent that the division between Early and
Late at Amapa is indeed quite sharp. There are differences in architecture and nearly all
of the small finds (figurines, spindle whorls, etcetera) as well’ (p. 48).
The differences between the Early and Late periods of occupation at Amapa
coincide with the intrusion of new peoples and cultures into different areas of West
Mexico during the Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900-1200), as part of the upheavals
brought about by the collapse of the Classic-period societies, such as Teotihuacan, and
the appearance on the Mesoamerican scene of new players, like the Toltec Empire. This
process will be discussed in the next chapter.
Zacatecas and the Northwestern Frontier
Although Zacatecas is not part of West Mexico as defined in the present study, it will be
discussed briefly here as an area of northward expansion during the Classic period. The
Mesoamerican ecumene experienced an extension of its territory into the northwestern
frontier as peoples colonized areas where conditions for agriculture were adequate,
though not necessarily ideal —particularly during the ‘climatic optimum’ of the Late
Classic-Early Postclassic (ca. AD 915-1150; Stahle et al. 2011: Figure 2) when rainfall
was sufficient for farming maize and other cultigens throughout the northern regions of
Mesoamerica and beyond, reaching into the present-day southwestern United States.
According to Stahle et al. (2016), ‘Mexico has suffered a long history and
prehistory of severe sustained drought... The instrumental record of Mexican climate is
very limited before 1920, but tree-ring chronologies developed from old-growth forests
in Mexico can provide an excellent proxy representation of the spatial pattern and
intensity of past moisture regimes useful for the analysis of climate dynamics and
climate impacts’ (p. 1).
Archaeological research along the northwestern frontier of the ecumene has
documented many thriving communities that followed the Mesoamerican tradition in
lands that today are semi-desert, and had largely been abandoned by these urban-
oriented societies at the time of the Spanish conquest in the 16th century. Writing about
this blooming of Mesoamerican culture in Zacatecas during the Classic period, Nelson
et al. (2015) mention that ‘by AD 550, occupants of Alta Vista had built a large
platform and staked out the Hall of Columns’ where archaeologists found ‘offerings of
pseudo-cloisonné vessels decorated with the eagle-serpent motif… and a multiple burial
identified as a Tezcatlipoca [the Aztec war god] impersonator… The Temple of the
 322

Skulls had more than 30 sets of skulls and long bones suspended inside’ (p. 37).
Another indicator of cultural achievement with Mesoamerican undertones found at Alta
Vista is ‘an observatory oriented to a horizon calendar and a structure decorated with
Teotihuacan-like merlons. The Mesoamerican character of the material culture is
unmistakable’ (p. 38). Another outstanding example of cultural development in the
northwest-Mexico region is in the Malpaso Valley, where the occupation around the site
of La Quemada ‘had over 200 villages and hamlets… The site is most noted for its
spectacular hilltop fortress features, extensive road system… and massive bone
deposits… La Quemada is known to be principally an Epiclassic (AD 600-900)
center… making its apogee contemporary with that of Alta Vista’ (p. 38).
According to Nelson et al. (2015), several authors (e.g. Weigand 1995a;
Weigand and Harbottle 1992; Weigand et al. 1977) have presented archaeological
evidence of mineral procurement in West Mexico. ‘These findings allowed visions of
intensive, specialized production throughout the region… and characterized northern
Zacatecas in particular… as a “rare resource zone” exploited by distant powers. Current
evidence suggests that… intensive production, while certainly present, was more
scattered in time and space than one might have thought’ (p. 42).
Jiménez-Betts (2018) discusses Mesoamerican expansion into the northwest in
the context of a ‘world system’ that was based primarily on the exchange of strategic
commodities. The primary commodity that was traded between the northern periphery
and the core regions of the ecumene (from the Classic to the Postclassic periods) was
green stone, primarily turquoise. Jiménez-Betts (2018) has written that ‘it is during the
Alta Vista phase (AD 600-850/900)… in northwest Zacatecas that intense sedentary
occupation gets underway in territory of the central valleys of present day Durango…
This expansion of sedentary occupation constitutes the cultural base out of which this
territory develops’ (p. 119). This cultural expansion process is ‘highlighted… by large-
scale evidence of specialized economic activity. The identification of over 800 mines
dating from AD 350/400-900 underscores the scale of labor invested in this activity’ (p.
119). Jiménez-Betts argues there were ‘two periods of mining activity: AD 400-650 and
650-900, the latter representing the peak period of their exploitation. Limited samples
taken from the mines indicate they were sources for… chert, quartz, limonite, hematite,
and diorite, which have been proposed as part of the prestige goods produced in the
area’ (pp. 119-120). The site of Alta Vista ‘likewise contained evidence of having been
a production center of blue-green stone beads and pendants’ (p. 120).
 323

In addition to green stones and other mineral resources, Zacatecas is well-known

for the innovative pottery decorative techniques it shared with other regions of West
Mexico. Perhaps the most elaborate and striking of these ceramics is the pseudo-
cloisonné pottery tradition. Thomas Holien (2001) states that ‘the Chalchihuites culture
area of western Zacatecas has provided the best collection available of pseudo-cloisonné
specimens, in terms of both quantity of specimens and the quality of their
accompanying records of deposition context’ (p. 199). Pseudo-cloisonné decoration on
ceramic vessels consists of covering the pot with a layer of pigment, which is then
partially stripped away in sections and the area is inlaid with pigment of a different
color, much like lacquer work. Vessels with this kind of decoration have been found ‘in
the ruins of ceremonial centers and villages. The pottery to which pseudo-cloisonné…
was applied is so distinctive, in forms and fabrication, that it has been described as one
of the ceramic types of the [Chalchihuites] region’ (p. 200). This style of decoration
may trace its origin to Teotihuacan, since it is seen widely in the well-known vessels
with al fresco decoration (Berrin and Pasztory [eds.] 1993: Figures 136-142). According
to Holien, the Miraflores archaeological phase in the Guatemala Highlands includes
pottery specimens from Kaminaljuyú with pigment overlay and the stripping of layers
to produce designs. Holien also mentions that ‘among the earliest examples now known
must be the inlay at Teotihuacan and its occurrence, in Teotihuacan style, at
Kaminaljuyú. Probably later, within the Classic, it appears in West Mesoamerica in the
full pseudo-cloisonné style’ (p. 278). Apparently the time of arrival in West Mexico is
after the demise of the shaft-tomb tradition, that is to say, around the Late Classic.
Carl Lumholtz (1986) reported an assemblage of pseudo-cloisonné pottery he
acquired from the site of Estanzuela, near Guadalajara (Jalisco) in 1898. There were 35
pots painted with stucco, some of them in very good condition (see Chapter II).
Lumholtz shows several of the ceramic vessels and roll-out views of the decorative
designs on the surface (Figure 132).
Research by Nicola Strazicich (2002) has shown that ancient potters who made
ceramics decorated with the pseudo-cloisonné technique in La Quemada, Zacatecas, had
to follow several steps in order to meet the technical challenge of creating inlay designs
in a ceramic medium. The artisans ‘first coated fired cups and bowls with a mixture of
clay blended with finely ground minerals and diatomite… Ilmenite, an iron-rich
mineral, gives the base coating its characteristic muted black color. Elaborate designs…
and geometric motifs were carved into the base coat with precisely beveled edge cuts’
 324

(p. 7). The areas that would be filled with multi-colored pigments first were hollowed
out, then packed with ground calcite, and finally capped with finely-ground mineral
pigments. Strazicich found out that green pigments came from celadonite, while
goethite and limonite were used for yellow, and hematite (or sometimes rutile) for red.
Some organic compounds –resin, for example– may have been used as binders, but such
substances have not survived in the archaeological record. Once applied, the decoration
remained unfired, thus the stucco coating of many vessels appears brittle and may flake
off easily.
Strazicich reports that pseudo-cloisonné ceramics ‘were widely used throughout
northern and western Mexico between AD 400 and 900, yet it is unclear where the
pottery was made and decorated. No workshops have been identified… Several lines of
evidence suggest pseudo-cloisonné vessels were manufactured at La Quemada… from
local clay deposits… The minerals used in the pseudo-cloisonné decoration… could
have been acquired near La Quemada’ (p. 7).

Cultural Relations between West and Central Mexico during the Classic Period
We saw in the previous chapter that during the Formative period West Mexico
maintained close interaction with the Basin of Mexico and other areas of central and
southern Mesoamerica, such as the present-day state of Morelos. As the Mesoamerican
ecumene extended further west, the Chupícuaro archaeological culture in the Bajío
lowlands of Guanajuato took part in this cultural process. Later, during the Classic
period, the central Mexican connection was very much alive in the Bajío, as we saw
earlier in this chapter.
During the Early Classic period, the Teotihuacan state was one of the dominant
political forces in Mesoamerica, as shown by its expansion into the Maya area to the
south (Braswell 2003), into the Gulf of Mexico lowlands in the east 3 (Santley and
Arnold 2005; Manzanilla 2018b) and Oaxaca (Spence 1992), and along a westbound
route toward Querétaro (Saint-Charles et al. 2010) and Guerrero (Muller 1979),
Michoacán (Gómez Chávez 1998, 2017) and Colima (Matos and Kelly 1974).
One of the most important commodities for the Teotihuacan state was obsidian.
In a civilization such as Classic-period Mesoamerica, which lacked access to iron, steel,
and other similar metals, obsidian was the primary material for making knives, axes,

3
Manzanilla (2018b: 733) found remains of fish, crabs, birds and a crocodile, as well as woven cotton cloths and even human
remains from the Gulf of Mexico Lowlands in her excavations of the Teopancazco multi-ethnic neighborhood at Teotihuacan.
 325

projectile points, scrapers and many other tools indispensable for everyday life (not to
mention warfare). Acquiring obsidian was thus one of the prime-movers behind
Teotihuacan’s expansion, whether by military or commercial means (or both). The
Teotihuacanos went to Veracruz and other regions searching for obsidian and other
strategic resources, such as cotton, cacao, feathers, jade, turquoise and other green
stones. Manzanilla (2018) discussed the presence of foreign goods in Teotihuacan,
sustaining that in each district of the great urban center there ‘were different
neighborhoods, which constituted the dynamic social units of Teotihuacan society… At
the Teopancazco neighborhood… we see evidence of foreign goods mainly from
Guerrero, Veracruz, Tlaxcala, Hidalgo, and… Puebla’ (p. 94). Other areas of the
sprawling urban center may have had similar products and materials brought to the city
from as far afield as Michoacán and other regions further north.
In order to understand the nature of ‘international’ relations during Classic
times, including West Mexico, I will discuss Michael Spence’s (1992) study of an
enclave of apparent Oaxaca ethnic affiliation in one of the barrios at Teotihuacan.
Spence tells us that in his archaeological survey of Teotihuacan, ‘near the western edge
of the city… high levels of foreign-appearing ceramics were noted in the surface
collections from a cluster of sites, in an area now called Tlailotlacan… their identity as
Oaxacan types led to excavations… The results of the… excavations indicate that the…
occupants of Tlailotlacan were indeed Zapotecs, or at least had a number of practices
and material items that have their closest parallel in the Valley of Oaxaca’ (p. 59).
Spence’s research placed ‘emphasis… on the variety of ways in which the inhabitants of
Tlailotlacan expressed and maintained their distinctive ethnic identity over some
centuries of residence in one of the largest urban centers of the world’ (p. 59).
The most striking archaeological find was a Zapotec-style tomb with an
antechamber, and a door jamb consisting of ‘a large upright stone of local material,
carved with a Zapotec glyph and the number nine in bar and dot numerals’ (p. 60).
Spence wrote that ‘the archaeological evidence indicates that the people of Tlailotlacan
were Zapotecs who came to Teotihuacan from the Valley of Oaxaca… However, ethnic
identity is not simply a historically derived fact. It is a construct, responsive in some
degree to the wider socioeconomic environment of the group’ (p. 76). Therefore, the
people who lived in Tlailotlacan ‘cannot be expected to simply reproduce the Zapotec
culture from which they originated… For one thing, a certain amount of acculturation to
the larger Teotihuacan community would have been inescapable. Many of the material
 326

necessities of life were made in specialized workshops beyond the enclave… The… use
of those items… would… have placed some severe constraints on the expression of
their own ethnic identity’ (pp. 76-77).
In the case of the people who during many generations may have identified
themselves as ‘ethnic Oaxacan’ or Zapotecs at Teotihuacan, ‘only some Zapotec
practices would have been retained. There was inevitably some selection…
encouraging… particular traits… Those persisting in Tlailotlacan touched on a wide
range of situations, including elite and non-elite contexts, daily domestic activities and
household ritual, and occasional, more elaborate public rituals’ (p. 77).
In discussing the economic role of the Zapotec enclave, Spence states that
‘ethnic boundaries in pluralistic contexts tend to persist when they are instrumental in
securing access to some vital resource… Presumably, then, there is an important
economic factor in the survival of Tlailotlacan. However, the excavations have
uncovered no evidence of specialized production in the area other than the manufacture
of Zapotec-style ceramics’ (p. 79). Because of a lack of archaeological data that would
indicate ‘specialized production at Tlailotlacan itself, the economic role of the
inhabitants may have been that of middlemen in the trade of items produced elsewhere’
(p. 79). This suggestion may be bolstered by the fact that ‘there are sites elsewhere in
central Mexico with a mixture of Teotihuacan- and Oaxacan-related materials… It is
possible that these, together with others still unidentified, were linked in a trade network
protected from competitive intrusions by their common language and culture and by the
social ties created by frequent intermarriage’ (p. 80). These trade patterns may have
involved ‘more than one item, from more than one source… the [people from]
Tlailotlacan might have controlled the flow of Thin Orange pottery into Teotihuacan…
Lime from the Tula [Hidalgo] region [was] transported to Teotihuacan for the
preparation of plaster [and] may have been another commodity… The fine green
obsidian of Pachuca [Hidalgo] may also have been distributed in part through
Tlailotlacan. Blades, cores, and some points of this material were reaching Oaxaca in
the Middle Horizon’ (i.e. Classic period) (p. 80).
The following passage sums up Spence’s ideas concerning the Zapotec enclave
at Teotihuacan:
Finally, if the enclave personnel make frequent and prolonged visits to the
homeland, are replaced often by new agents, or make it a point to take their
spouses from the homeland, the enclave will present a more comprehensive and
 327

up-to-date version of the homeland culture. On the other hand, when contact
with the homeland is brief, rare, or restricted to only a small proportion of the
enclave occupants, the enclave will have a more fragmented and anachronistic
version. This was clearly the case with Tlailotlacan, and it underscores the fact
that the enclave was not simply a political or economic outpost of Monte Albán
(p. 82).

Thanks to the numerous immigrant colonies in Teotihuacan, like the one

mentioned above from Oaxaca and others from the Maya area, the Gulf of Mexico and
Michoacán, this city became a multi-ethnic metropolis that formed part of an
‘international’ commercial and cultural expansion which depended on a widespread and
far-flung network of trade routes (Coggins 1993). Teotihuacan followed several paths as
it reached from the Basin of Mexico to other key areas of Mesoamerica, where many
strategic resources were to be found (Figure 133).
One of these key areas is the Valley of San Juan del Río, Querétaro, where the
site of El Rosario is located. El Rosario was occupied by people with a Teotihuacan
cultural affiliation during the Classic period (Saint-Charles et al. 2010). One of the
characteristics that define the North-Central region of Mexico, where the San Juan del
Río Valley is located, is the multicultural character of the ancient peoples who settled
there. These were true Mesoamerican farming societies with considerable social
complexity and a local history going back at least to 500 BC. This occupation lasted
until the beginning of the 11th or 12th century, when the region was abandoned almost
completely (Saint-Charles et al. 2010).
The Classic period in the North-Central region was a time of transformation,
adaptation and rearrangement, but simultaneously local cultures were achieving greater
cohesion. One characteristic that stands out in this period ‘is the presence of elements
originated at Teotihuacan in most of Mesoamerica. In the North-Central region, there
are reports of some kind of presence [of people] from this urban center in several
settlements throughout the Bajío of Querétaro and Guanajuato’ (p. 27). Some sites there
have revealed pottery and fragments of prismatic blades made of green obsidian, which
is usually regarded as an indicator of Teotihuacan presence, since the Teotihuacan state
controlled the production, distribution and consumption of that lithic material.
The site of El Rosario may have been a new ruling center and, therefore, the
main political actor in the San Juan del Río area. There may have been local populations
 328

intermixed with settlers from Teotihuacan in the site’s vicinity, and it may have been a
key site because it functioned as a frontier settlement. In short, El Rosario occupied a
strategic location that was ideal for controlling several strategic resources and for
overseeing the valley. It may have been a route of trade and exchange as well. El
Rosario also marked a difference between the Teotihuacan groups and the local
population, therefore imposing its own ideology (pp 32-33).
Saint-Charles et al. suggest that the San Juan del Río Valley had a special place
within the cultural dynamics of the North-Central region during the Classic period, as it
functioned as a scenario for encounters that involved peoples like those from central
Mexico, whose arrival transformed the region’s cultural configuration. The site of El
Rosario is located on a gentle hill to the south of the San Juan del Río Valley, covering
an area of roughly 4,900 m2. The main building (Mound 1) is part of an architectural
complex composed of a sunken patio bordered on the north and east by two elongated
platforms. The architects who built El Rosario reproduced the building patterns and
style characteristic of Teotihuacan. Both the spatial patterning and the construction
systems indicate a direct relationship between both sites. But perhaps the most
important indicator of Teotihuacan presence are the mural paintings discovered in
relatively good conditions of preservation (Figures 134-136). The iconography is one
of war and domination, including ‘warriors equipped with shields, darts, and flaming
torches, as well as the ubiquitous goggles, nose-bars with fangs, and ear spools… Their
headdresses are adorned with eagle feathers and bleeding hearts, and from their mouths
emanate large speech scrolls that are embellished with logographic elements such as
bleeding hearts and dart butts, suggesting a type of war song’ (Nielsen and Helmke
2017:141).
The ceramics excavated at El Rosario also bear witness to Teotihuacan presence
here, including bowls similar to the engraved, polished wares from the Tzacualli phase
and monochrome polished vessels (Saint-Charles et al. 2010:184). Few items were
discovered pertaining to the Thin Orange pottery type and they were mostly fragments
not found in primary contexts. This pottery is light and, therefore, easy to transport. In
Teotihuacan, Thin Orange ceramics are associated with the elite and with funerary
rituals (pp. 187-188), and they may have retained this function at El Rosario.
The geographic location of El Rosario suggests that it may have been a ‘gateway
community’ between the Basin of Mexico, the Bajío lowlands and points west. But
there is another reason for a Teotihuacan outpost to be found here. El Rosario is located
 329

not far from the Sierra Gorda of Querétaro, which holds one of the prime natural
deposits of cinnabar in Mesoamerica (Langenscheidt 2006). Cinnabar was very
important as a pigment used in ritual contexts –including elite burials– at Teotihuacan
and many other Mesoamerican areas. Gazzola (2009) conducted a study of cinnabar
used as a source of red color in Teotihuacan mural paintings. Gazzola holds that
cinnabar is a red mineral (mercury sulphide) that was used in both ritual and funerary
contexts in Teotihuacan. Cinnabar was applied on corpses before burial, and has also
been found in association with elite vessels and offerings like shells, green stones and
obsidian ritual items. This was one of the most sacred minerals and access to it was
restricted to high status individuals, such as priests, rulers and warriors.
Around the sixth century AD, Teotihuacan saw ‘the first signs of social
disintegration. Within a few decades, the great urban center of central Mexico would
lose its place as the premier political, social, and economic center in Mesoamerica. This
left a power vacuum that would be filled by new groups who controlled smaller
settlements, in a constant struggle for economic and political control’ (Saint-Charles et
al. 2010:34-35). The increase in the number of settlements observed in the
archaeological record after AD 650 may have been due to various causes, among them
‘the partial abandonment of the great metropolis of central Mexico. This surely
triggered a gradual, generalized migration toward other areas, among them the North-
Central region; but we also see some elements from the north’ (p. 36).
Another geographic-cultural area that played a role in the westward expansion of
Teotihuacan is Guerrero. The state of Guerrero comprises one of the least-known
archaeological areas of Mesoamerica. Rosa María Reyna (1990) has said that
understanding ‘the role played by the ancient peoples of Guerrero during the Classic
period is a difficult task, because in most instances we do not have enough –in some
cases not even the minimum– information… that would let us hazard an interpretation
about the socio-cultural processes of these peoples’ (p. 221). In spite of the scarcity of
information, we know that in Classic times the human groups living in Guerrero played
an outstanding cultural role. But they also present a formidable problem: from Reyna’s
perspective, the Classic period in Guerrero is less well-known than the Formative and
Postclassic, thanks to recent archaeological work at several sites. In general,
archaeological research in Guerrero has been limited, isolated and uneven. Only a
handful of archaeological sites have been excavated by archaeologists, rather than
looters.
 330

Reyna identifies the salient archaeological sites and regions where research has
taken place from the 1940s to more recent times in a discussion that focuses on three
geographic regions: the Costa Grande, the Tierra Caliente, and the central region of
Guerrero. The site of Tambuco, near the resort town of Acapulco in the Costa Grande,
was excavated by Ekholm in 1948. Ekholm dug a trench at this site that reached a depth
of four meters. There he found several ceramic types, two of which showed a clear
influence from Teotihuacan. Some four decades after Ekholm’s work, Reyna recorded
several archaeological objects in the municipality of San Miguel Totolapan (in the
Tierra Caliente region) that had been found in the vicinity, some pertaining to the
Classic period. An outstanding item in this collection is a stela with attributes linked to
Tlaloc, the rain god (Figure 137a). According to Reyna (1990), the iconography may
be ‘Teotihuacanoid’, but the style corresponds to a local stone-working tradition.
Another example of Teotihuacan iconography in stone sculpture from Guerrero is seen
in Figure 137b. Finally, from the central region of Guerrero Reyna mentions a site
known as La Cueva, which was a small rural community with pottery remains that are
similar to Teotihuacan wares from the Early Tlamimilolpan and Xolalpan phases.
In 2010 Reyna found ‘close to six thousand pottery fragments of Teotihuacan
style in the Costa Grande, which proves contact between the city… and that region’
(Ramírez 2010:1). The find consists of potsherds of bowls with annular base and Tlaloc
effigies, as well as ‘theater-style’ censers, all pertaining to ‘a Teotihuacan style that had
never before been reported from this area’ (p. 1).

Martha Sempowski (1992) discusses the trade routes between Teotihuacan and
Guerrero, through which many commodities moved, including precious sea shells:
‘Regarding the Pacific coastal areas… [there are] several potential routes between
Teotihuacan and source areas for Pacific varieties of marine shell found at Teotihuacan,
including… to the coast of Guerrero, which… represents the shortest distance to any
Pacific coast Spondylus source’ (p. 49). On the same topic of trade networks between
Teotihuacan and foreign lands, Margaret Turner (1992) discusses Teotihuacan’s
presence in the Guatemala highlands, reaching down to the Pacific coast: ‘One
motivating factor often cited for Teotihuacan dominance of Kaminaljuyu is the control
of sources of precious materials including jadeite and Pacific shell, especially
Spondylus… Marine shell… was highly priced at both Teotihuacan and Kaminaljuyu’
(p. 106). There is abundant evidence of the use of Spondylus and other shell at
 331

Teotihuacan, and the frequent use of these materials in ritual ‘suggests that sources of
shell and perhaps fine stones exploited by the state might have included areas closer to
the immediate Teotihuacan region. Likely sources would have been marine shell from
Guerrero, jadeite and serpentine from Puebla and Guerrero, and tecali [i.e. onyx] and
mica from sources in Puebla and Oaxaca’ (p. 106). Turner sums up by saying that ‘the
Teotihuacan state did maintain economic and political ties with many polities in regions
both near to and far from the Teotihuacan Valley. In some instances these ties may have
involved actual control over important economic resources on the part of the state. Fine
stones and shells were of great importance to the prestige of many institutions and
individuals throughout Teotihuacan society’ (pp. 106-107).
Shells may have been transported to Teotihuacan whole or as worked artifacts
from the Guerrero coast. Florencia Muller (1977) mentions the presence of Teotihuacan
ceramics in the Classic period at La Villita, in the Balsas River drainage system, where
archaeological rescue work discovered a shell-working industry that used both fresh-
water and marine species. Shell artifacts such as beads, bracelets and pendants turned up
in burials in this part of the Guerrero coast; the dominant species was Spondylus. After
reviewing the archaeological evidence extant at the time, Muller wrote that ‘in
summary, it can be said that one of the main routes or networks established for shell
trade during the Classic (AD 200-700) is indicated by the distribution of Teotihuacanoid
elements in the state of Guerrero’ (p. 346).
Rubén Manzanilla (2008) conducted one of the few archaeological studies in
Guerrero with a clear anthropological orientation aimed at defining an ‘archaeological
region’ in the Costa Grande. According to Manzanilla, between AD 200 and 600 the
settlements along the coastal strip and southern slopes of the Sierra Madre del Sur
underwent important transformations that may have been related to the inception of
intensive agriculture in the region. He further noted a more centralized political and
ideological orientation during this period (Early Classic). Manzanilla mentions the
existence of exchange networks and cultural interaction between the Costa Grande of
Guerrero and other coastal groups in West Mexico, primarily in Michoacán and Colima,
as well as in more distant areas, such as Oaxaca, arguing that ‘the rulers or dominant
groups sought prestige goods and symbols of power that would give them an “identity”
vis-a-vis the ruling elites of distant places… such as Teotihuacan and Monte Albán’ (pp.
115-116).
 332

Manzanilla sums up his ideas regarding the perceived cultural influence of

Mesoamerican polities, such as Teotihuacan and Monte Albán, on the Costa Grande
region during the Classic period as follows: ‘The “mesoamericanization” [sic] of the
Costa Grande… probably occurred through the exchange or trade of objects, such as sea
shells, bird feathers, cotton and cacao, with other regions of Mesoamerica. Such
portable goods may have had a great demand with [major] urban centers… and
secondary centers’ (p. 123). One of the primary examples of material culture that may
exemplify the exchange of goods and ideas between the Mesoamerican ‘core area’ and
the Costa Grande of Guerrero is a stone disk with a relief representing a deity –probably
Tlaloc– which is currently located in the town plaza of Petatlán (Figure 138).
A particularly outstanding item to be discussed here is the Malinaltepec mask
(Figure 139), one of the best-known objects related to the Teotihuacan style in
Mesoamerica (Scott 2010; Schmidt 2018). The anthropomorphic stone mask is one of
the most distinctive items in Teotihuacan’s artistic repertoire, and may have been used
to accompany the dead on their final voyage to the underworld, as part of ‘funerary
bundles’ (Headrick 1999). In her study of the Teotihuacan lapidary industry, Turner
(1992) has noted that Teotihuacan-style masks ‘were carved from the green stone that
was so highly prized by most Mesoamerican societies [i.e. serpentine]… with [a]
repertoire of stone-working techniques… that remained fundamentally unchanged from
the Preclassic through the Post-Conquest periods throughout the region’ (p. 89). Turner
has classified five kinds of ‘fine stone’ used in the manufacture of stone masks at
Teotihuacan: ‘Jadeite, serpentine, onyx or tecali, slate and mica. Related lapidary-
quality materials in use in the city included various species of marine shell of both
Atlantic and Pacific origin, freshwater shell, quartz, chert, chalcedony and other
materials such as pyrite, malachite, cinnabar and hematite’ (p. 92).
Gazzola (2017) has studied the areas of origin of the raw materials used in
lapidary production, including stone masks. She found that ‘they were brought to
Teotihuacan from diverse deposits, the main ones perhaps in the modern-day states of
Guerrero, Puebla, Oaxaca, and Querétaro, and others as far away as Guatemala, the
source of imported jade’ (p. 171).
In her study of the Malinaltepec mask, Sue Scott (2010) tells us that this
priceless object is a ‘stone mask of Teotihuacan style with a cover of turquoise mosaic
of a decidedly non-Teotihuacan workmanship. It has been a polemic piece ever since its
first exhibition in 1921 in Mexico’s Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Historia y
 333

Etnografía… Its authenticity was questioned from the beginning: the mosaic is not from
Teotihuacan because of the extremely small size of the tassels, a technique that…
pertains to the Postclassic period’ (p. 65). Eventually, the mask was accepted as a
legitimate ancient artifact, and ‘was attributed… the status of symbol of the best pre-
Hispanic art… It has been the subject of publications and exhibitions in Mexican and
foreign museums’ on countless occasions (p. 66). According to Paul Schmidt (2018),
‘there has been confusion about the place where the mask was found. Bernal wrongly
attributed it to the Malinaltepec Mountain in the vicinity of Texmelincan’ but eventually
‘it has been correctly attributed… to the town of Malinaltepec’ (p. 1) in the Montaña
Region of Guerrero. Beyond the artistic and cultural merits of this piece, it stands as one
of the best examples of interaction between Teotihuacan and the region of Mesoamerica
we now know as Guerrero.
The state of Guerrero is bordered to the west by Michoacán; the frontier between
the two is the Balsas River, which also functioned as a political frontier between the
Aztec and Tarascan Empires in the Late Postclassic period. The subject of Teotihuacan
interaction with the peoples of Michoacán was discussed in a previous section.
According to Jiménez Betts (2018), archaeological evidence supports the proposal that
the Lake Cuitzeo Basin is a prime candidate for strong cultural interaction, or perhaps
even a political alliance, with Teotihuacan. Archaeological and other types of evidence
discussed below strongly suggest that the lake district of northern Michoacán played a
rather unique role in the transmission of prestige goods and information from
Teotihuacan through trade networks and other kinds of interaction that extended into
Michoacán and beyond. Teotihuacan’s presence in Michoacán is attested to by stone
sculptures of deities such as the Fire God (Williams 1992: Figures 18 and 19),
numerous pottery styles, and a diagnostic style of architecture that incorporates the
talud-tablero technique, as stated earlier.
Williams (2009b) discussed several strategic resources in the Lake Cuitzeo
Basin that may have attracted Teotihuacan incursions, primarily obsidian and salt.
During the Classic period, Teotihuacan’s presence at Tres Cerritos (Macías Goytia
1989) and other nearby sites, such as Loma Santa María in Morelia (Manzanilla 1988),
may indicate that these and other settlements in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and the
neighboring region functioned as intermediary outposts for trade routes between central
Mexico and the northwestern region of Mesoamerica and beyond. The Teotihuacan state
sponsored incursions into several areas of West Mexico, as we saw earlier in this
 334

chapter. The Teotihuacanos were probably looking for access to strategic goods and
trade networks. These outposts represented a system of economic hegemony through
which early states exploited polities of lesser complexity located beyond their respective
areas of influence and hinterlands (Algaze 1993).
We have seen in previous pages that turquoise was one of the primary sumptuary
goods for Mesoamerican elites from earliest times. Turquoise (and other green stones)
had to be imported from far-away lands in northern Mesoamerica (including the present
day Southwestern United States) and southern Mesoamerica. In his study of turquoise
procurement and trade, Weigand (1995a) suggests that ‘the exploration, mining or
exploitation, and trade of turquoise were within the organization postulates of the trade
structure in ancient Mesoamerica’ (p. 115). A unique find of turquoise artifacts at Tres
Cerritos in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin indicates the role that this area played in the
circulation of strategic and elite resources throughout the ecumene. This find consisted
of forty-three tassels of irregular shape which formed a mosaic that was glued together
with a yellow substance (perhaps resin or some other plant material). This assemblage
included 86 beads of different sizes, predominantly round in shape, and a plaque shaped
like a half-moon with two perforations, which may have been used as a pectoral. Other
items of green stone consisted of three trapezoidal plaques with a perforation in one
end, and two half-moon plaques (Macías Goytia 1998). We know that green stones
played a role in the power displays of the elite in the Tarascan state, and this custom
probably had a deep historical past, as suggested by finds from the Formative and
Classic periods discussed earlier.
In his discussion of immigrants or visitors of Michoacán origin to Teotihuacan,
Gómez Chávez (2017), says that in almost all cities, both in the ancient and modern
worlds, the presence of communities of foreigners with strong social cohesion is a
phenomenon tied to survival strategies, including access to everyday goods and control
over basic livelihoods. By establishing these colonies or neighborhoods in urban
contexts, foreign ethnic groups managed to survive within sometimes hostile dominant
social milieus (p. 102).
Migrants who belong to an ethnic minority usually maintain some of the most
valued cultural traditions from their homeland. Gómez Chávez holds that ‘the periodic
ritualized reproduction of certain cultural elements generates strong ties of identity
within the community that enables it to deal… with the… society surrounding it… [and]
with the competition and rivalry of other ethnic groups’ (p. 102). Around AD 250-300,
 335

a group of people arrived in Teotihuacan from Michoacán and established themselves in

an architectural compound near the Zapotec Barrio. According to Gómez Chávez, the
elements thought to be distinctive of their West Mexican heritage included Michoacán-
style figurines, as well as ‘the use of shaft-tombs, and cooking structures that resembled
ovens. The tombs… were limited in size compared to those built in West Mexico. One
is boot-shaped and another has a deep vertical shaft with stone covers… the remains of
several individuals were placed together in collective burials that included objects
imported from Michoacán’ (p. 105).
Gómez Chávez points out that, in and of themselves, these features from
Michoacán do not demonstrate the existence of a ‘Michoacán barrio’ in Teotihuacan,
since ‘only a single architectural compound was occupied by families from the state of
Michoacán. For some reason, they settled near the Zapotec Barrio and were perhaps
later linked by marriage ties between its members’ (p. 106).
An additional perspective on ‘foreigners’ living in Teotihuacan, some of whom
came from Michoacán, is offered by the study of bone and dental remains excavated in
that great urban center. White et al. (2004) report that the highly-organized urban center
of ‘Teotihuacan covered approximately… 20 km2 and contained about 2,000 residential
compounds that, together, housed an estimated population of 125,000 to 200,000
people… Although it maintained a large population for about 600 years… health and
mortality problems, particularly high infant mortality, would have made it difficult for
the city to sustain its population without incorporating immigrants’ (p. 176). The study
carried out by White and colleagues focused on ‘the residential compound of Tlajinga
33 [which] has revealed little artifactual evidence of association with other regions, so
its occupants have been used as local controls for Teotihuacan in bio-geo-chemical
studies aimed at identifying Teotihuacanos in foreign lands or foreigners found in
Teotihuacan’ (p. 177). The occupation of the Tlajinga 33 apartment compound spanned
a period of some 350 years, from ca. AD 250 to 600. The study by White et al. came to
the following conclusions: ‘It has long been assumed that the Tlajinga 33 apartment
compound represents a stereotype of living conditions and social structure of lower to
middle class residents in the city of Teotihuacan’ (p. 194). Although the sample
discussed by White et al. represents only a small portion of all burials, almost one-third
of the residents in Tlajinga were immigrants, and stable oxygen isotope analysis
indicates that ‘they came from at least two different regions, one of them likely in
Michoacán… Most of those who were immigrants had come as children or young adults
 336

and had lived in Teotihuacan for a long time… Immigrants were integrated into the
social and economic framework of the state in complex ways, probably… by joining…
the families already there’ (pp. 194-195).
White et al. (2007) conducted research based on oxygen and strontium isotopes
on an area of Teotihuacan distinct from the Tlajinga 33 residential compound discussed
above. These authors have used both oxygen- and strontium-isotope ratios with human
skeletal remains ‘to reconstruct the movement of people across the Mesoamerican
landscape… most of these applications have been in the context of… Teotihuacan and
the polities to which it was related’ (p. 159). The study of ancient bone and tooth
materials has allowed the investigation of the following issues (among others): (1)
ethnic assimilation and maintenance in Teotihuacan; (2) foreign policy and relations; (3)
trade and economic organization; and (4) military structure.
Among the findings of this project is the fact that ‘one strontium-isotope ratio is
lower than the local Teotihuacan signature… which falls within the range of the central
highlands and is comparable to values from the site of Tzintzuntzan’ in the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin, Michoacán (pp. 165-166). To sum up, after analyzing the data of bone
and enamel remains from the Moon Pyramid at Teotihuacan, White et al. arrived at the
following conclusion: ‘The childhood residences of the human sacrifices… (with a few
possible exceptions) were all foreign to Teotihuacan’, while ‘the Feathered Serpent
Pyramid contains a number of individuals whose geographic origins… were not found
in the Moon Pyramid. These… areas likely include Monte Alban, Valley of Oaxaca,
Western Mexico, and the Pacific coast/piedmont region of Guatemala’ (p. 169).
One of the items of long-distance trade and exchange that may have encouraged the
Teotihuacan state to go abroad to other areas of the ecumene, in particular the
northwest, was the precious green stones, primarily turquoise. During the Postclassic
period, turquoise overtook the other green stone coveted by Mesoamericans –jade– in
terms of levels of consumption, popularity and economic importance (Weigand 1995a).
The mining complex at Chalchihuites, Zacatecas, probably began activities during the
Early Classic period (Canutillo phase, ca. AD 200-500), and reached its apogee around
the Late Classic (Alta Vista and Vesuvio phases, ca. AD 500-800). It was the traders
from Chalchihuites who gave further impetus to the systematic acquisition of green
stone during the Classic period. In addition to extracting it themselves, they
monopolized production from other areas with the goal of exchanging it outside their
territory (Weigand 1995a:118-120). However, it should be noted that there are no
 337

turquoise deposits in the Chalchihuites area; rather, the miners from this region
exploited malachite and azurite. The knowledge thus gained may have enabled those
experienced miners to obtain turquoise from further north, thus initiating a procurement
system.
Turquoise was as coveted by Mesoamericans as gold is coveted in our world
today, but turquoise was more than just a valuable possession, for in pre-Hispanic times
it became a symbol of status and nobility. Turquoise is quite abundant in many
archaeological finds in Mesoamerica, though there are no natural deposits of this rock in
this cultural area. In fact, the largest deposits are found in the Southwestern United
States and adjacent areas of northern Mexico. That there was a formal and highly-
structured trade in turquoise between these regions and nuclear Mesoamerica is
reflected in the fact that over a million pieces of this stone have been found by
archaeological projects in the Southwest and Mesoamerica. Thanks to nuclear activation
analysis, we know that many of the artifacts found in Mexico came from specific mines
in New Mexico, Arizona and Nevada (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:78-79).
The earliest find of this green gem is dated at around AD 600, but it was not
until the Late Classic (ca. AD 700-900) and Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900-1200) that
the use of turquoise became generalized throughout Mesoamerica. A large proportion of
this turquoise came from Cerrillos, New Mexico, but there were other sources as well.
Chaco Canyon seems to have controlled its distribution in an almost monopolistic way.
Eventually, the peoples of the Southwest began to send finished objects made of
turquoise to Mesoamerica instead of the uncut stone in bulk form, providing the first
evidence of the structural integration of the Southwest into the commercial system of
Mesoamerica (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:80-81).
Around AD 600, miners at Chalchihuites, Zacatecas, were extracting an almost
endless variety of minerals, including malachite, azurite, flint or chert, cinnabar,
hematite and probably native copper. Around one hundred years later, evidence appears
of large-scale turquoise work arising in the area of Cerrillos, New Mexico, as mentioned
above. At that time, the inhabitants of Alta Vista (Zacatecas) began to import large
quantities of rough turquoise, also from Cerrillos. In fact, workshops where these
objects were manufactured have been found in Alta Vista, including the largest ones in
all of Mesoamerica dedicated to working this valuable green stone. Part of the
production remained at the site, while the rest was sent to the great urban centers of the
 338

Classic period: Teotihuacan and Cholula, among others (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:
80).
According to Vincent Schiavitti (2002), ‘most of the mining in northern
Mesoamerica occurred in the Chalchihuites, Zacatecas, area. For nearly 500 years,
miners dug tunnels into the mineral deposits along the… river drainages’ The mounds
of mineral refuse near the mining sites grew steadily, ‘as approximately one million
cubic meters of debris was excavated from the mines… beads, mosaics, and other
jewelry were manufactured from weathered chert, blue-green stones, and turquoise’.
The mining industry in the Chalchihuites area ‘ceased at about AD 900. The
deposits are still abundant and were never in danger of being exhausted. Perhaps the
abandonment of neighboring sites, such as La Quemada, caused the market for
Chalchihuites’ mineral products to dry up, and put an end to a once-vigorous economic
activity’ (p. 1).
The distance between the northern periphery of Mesoamerica and its central
areas is considerable, but part of the journey may have been made by water, using
rivers, lakes or the coastline. A second route surely ran inland, following the eastern
flanks of the Sierra Madre Occidental through scarcely-populated areas with no natural
barriers. In the Jalisco highlands and the Lerma River watershed there were independent
polities that would have been powerful enough to hinder progress along such trade
routes. The merchants who took turquoise from northern to central Mexico may have
exchanged it for a broad range of products, though archaeological evidence for this is
not abundant. One trade element that has been preserved in the archaeological record
consists of seashells from the Gulf of Mexico, many of which have been found in
archaeological sites in the Southwest (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:82-84). Other goods
obtained in exchange for turquoise were marine shells from the Pacific Ocean and the
Gulf of California, parrot and macaw feathers from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico,
cotton, and copper bells made in Western Mexico. Exchange of these sumptuary or
scarce goods may have been controlled by regional caciques or chieftains (Plog
1997:24, 113). The main stimulus for this extensive trade originated in the demand for
green stones, but once the trade routes were open other minerals were exported to the
south, including garnet and peridotite. Eventually, other trade goods were added to the
list: bison skins, salt and perhaps slaves or war captives (Riley 1995:114).
Weigand et al. (1977) offered a model that aids our understanding of the trade
systems between the Southwest and Mesoamerica by proposing the existence of a
 339

‘world system’ (Smith and Berdan 2003) in which provinces with scarce resources
played an active role, as did the more complex centers of civilization and consumption.
According to this perspective, cultures inhabiting areas with scarce resources would
have interacted politically and economically with the zones where their products were
traded. Because economy and politics can seldom be disentangled one from the other,
those relationships would have had an implicit direction manifested in the cultural
influences from consumption centers towards zones of scarce resources, as well as an
ecological network of systematic demand, exploitation, trade, manufacture, distribution
and, eventually, greater demand (Weigand et al. 1977:23).
Turquoise has also been found in elite burials at Urichu, an important pre-
Hispanic site in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Pollard and Cahue 1999: Figure 10, p. 273).
Finally, the Museo Michoacano (Morelia, Michoacán) has several pre-Hispanic objects
(sadly with no known archaeological context) made of green stone, including necklaces,
beads and pectorals, all of which show a high level of workmanship. Items like these
were reserved for the highest stratum of society (Figures 140-142).
Green stones like jadeite, diorite, serpentine and turquoise were the most
important gemstones in Mesoamerica. Jade was the most highly-valued stone among the
Olmecs of the Formative period, and was equally-prized by later cultures, but green
stones always had a privileged and outstanding role as, for instance, part of funerary
ceremonies or in the dedication of ritually- or politically-important buildings. The color
of turquoise was symbolically equated with vegetation and water and so became a
metaphor for life and fertility. The Aztec symbol called chalchihuitl (the name given to
green stones in Nahuatl) stood for something precious. It is no coincidence that, like
green quetzal feathers and jade, the most highly-valued stone among the Aztecs and
other cultures of the Postclassic period was also green (Pasztory 1983:250).
Among the Aztecs, three kinds of turquoise were recognized according to
characteristics such as color, sheen and texture. The most sought-after variety was
called teoxiuitle, which was assumed to be constantly smoking. Regarded as belonging
to the gods, it was reserved for making objects associated with the cult of one deity or
another. A second kind of green stone, called xiuhtomolli, was used to make beads;
while a third kind of stone of a green-white color known as xiuhtomoltetl, was believed
to have medicinal properties. Turquoise was considered precious not just because it was
rare, but also because it was identified with rain deities such as Tlaloc and his consort,
 340

Chalchiuhtlicue. Finally, for some Mesoamericans the blue-green color of turquoise

evoked the blue of the water and the sky (Shelton 1988:21-22).
During the Postclassic period, turquoise became not just a status symbol, but
also an indispensable preciosity for the ideological reproduction and legitimization of
the state. Therefore, it was among the Tarascan state’s strategic interests to ensure a
constant flow of this stone towards the royal coffers. Although this imperial power may
not have monopolized the trade routes, it must have exerted some control, however
indirectly.
Among the Aztecs there were specialized jewelers who made masks and other
precious objects. Apart from turquoise and other green stones, they required many other
raw materials, such as pyrite, flint, lignite or jet (a form of coal), gold, pigments,
gemstones (rubies, emeralds, garnets), shell, wood and fibers, resins such as copal,
beeswax, and glue (McEwan et al. 2006:27-37).
Information about the production, use and exchange of green stones during the
Postclassic period mentioned above can be used to formulate a model of analogy to
explain the widespread trade routes that linked the Teotihuacan state and other polities
of central and southern Mesoamerica to the northern frontier. In this process, West
Mexico functioned as an active agent of trade in strategic goods within the ecumene
(Williams and Weigand 2004).
The trade in green stones and other minerals moving from north to south had a
corresponding counter-current of trade –moving from West Mexico and points south
and east– toward the northern latitudes of the ecumene. John Millhouser (2002) has
documented a robust flow of strategic goods, mostly obsidian, from south to north. The
inhabitants of the Malpaso Valley exchanged obsidian tools with groups 100 km to the
southwest. According to Millhouser, ‘artifacts from the Zináparo and Cerro Varal
[Michoacán] sources indicate interaction with… the Bajío region, 300 km to the
southeast. More limited exchange with… northern Jalisco is suggested by… artifacts
from San Juan de los Arcos and Llano Grande… from the Ucareo [Michoacán] source
and the Sierra de Pachuca source (which has a characteristic green color) indicated
limited exchange with… central Mexico’ (p. 9).

Final Remarks
Some forty years ago West Mexico was still regarded as a somewhat backward area of
Mesoamerica, as shown by the following comments from Schondube (1978) regarding
 341

the landscape of the Sierra Madre Occidental: ‘The topography with its characteristic
flora and fauna fostered the isolation of the [human] groups, a reality that is manifested
in the various archaeological characteristics’ (p. 225). Schondube also stated that ‘if we
compare West Mexico with the other Mesoamerican areas… it is, without a doubt, the
poor relation. That is why it is always defined by negative traits: it is said to be an area
lacking monumental architecture, or at least having rudimentary constructions… also,
there is no refined stone sculpture, and until now no evidence of codices or glyphic
script has been found’ (p. 225). Schondube came to the conclusion that ‘we can regard
West Mexico as a marginal area of Mesoamerica, [but] we don’t mean to say that it
lacks importance, since many of Mesoamerica’s cultural phenomena could have been
originated in the territory of West Mexico’ (p. 226).
We now know that the ideas expressed in the above paragraphs are wrong, as we
have seen in this chapter. The main reason why these negative viewpoints prevailed for
so long is that few field projects were carried out in West Mexico, and archaeologists
were in many instances working with a partial or distorted vision of reality, based on
museum studies rather than fieldwork.
The first thing we can say is that West Mexico was not ‘marginal’, and certainly
not ‘isolated’ from the rest of Mesoamerica. This applies to the Formative period, as we
saw in the last chapter, and to the Classic period as well. Recent research by Faugère et
al. (2016), for example, has shed new light on cultural contacts between West Mexican
peoples and the Basin of Mexico. They wrote that ‘due to its location east of the El
Bajío region and its proximity to the Lerma River, the Acámbaro Valley has always
been considered an important corridor linking western and central Mexico. Since the
1930s, archaeologists working in the Basin of Mexico have observed the presence of
foreign materials originating in El Bajío and, more precisely, Preclassic Chupícuaro
ceramic vessels and… figurines’. More recently, ‘several researchers have analyzed the
possible relations between these two regions in different periods… and various
hypotheses have been proposed, all of which mention possible physical contact that
trade would have entailed’ (p. 187).
The presence of Teotihuacan in the Bajío region is suggested by painted and
incised pottery, as well as thin orange material from the eastern Lake Cuitzeo and
Zinapécuaro, as we have seen in the foregoing pages. Faugère et al. believe that
‘archaeological remains… indicate contact through trade or the circulation of artifacts
because the figurines, in particular, bear witness to ritual activities. Possible contact
 342

areas would have been the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and Acámbaro Valley on one side, and
on the other, the northern and western areas of the Basin of Mexico… and the region
around Puebla’. It is also possible to suggest ‘that entire groups of people moved from
one area to the other in migrations… [and] the relations of a somewhat less peaceful
nature… would have entailed quite different transport conditions and needs for travelers
and traders’ (p. 189).
Another relevant observation made by Faugère et al. is that ‘the most important
sites with Chupícuaro and/or Teotihuacan-style remains found outside the Acámbaro
Valley and Cuitzeo Basin are located along a northern route that was particularly
important during Colonial times; namely, the inland camino real with its main branches
that penetrated into El Bajío’ (p. 196). The hypothesis presented by these authors is that
‘this major artery of Colonial times had functioned in much the same way since the
Preclassic period; that is, by connecting people and markets over a broad network’ (p.
197).
Christine Hernández (2016) has added new data and interpretations to the topic
of cultural relations between central Mexico and the western regions of the ecumene
during Formative and Classic times. Hernández holds that ‘ceramics recovered by the
Ucareo-Zinapécuaro Project investigations… suggest that prior to [AD] 1450 residents
in the… area had… very close cultural and economic ties with societies in the east, set
along the Lerma River Basin cutting through the southeastern Bajío and into… the
Basin of Mexico’. Hernández has written that ‘the archaeological record in northeastern
Michoacán suggests that people, objects, styles, and information moved through the
Middle Lerma River nexus connecting the Basin of Mexico to regions farther west and
north’ (p. 215).
The southern Bajío was far from being simply a crossroads of communication
between the Basin of Mexico and Western Mexico. This geographic-cultural area of low
wetlands ‘appears to have been an integrated culture area in its own right, with a rich
and unified tradition of… innovation that was felt in other areas of Mesoamerica
throughout prehistory’ (p. 215). This was particularly the case during the Classic and
Epiclassic periods, ‘when regular and substantial interaction between societies in the
southeastern Bajío, central, and Western Mexico contributed substantially to the cultural
development of all these regions. It is precisely during these periods when the influence
of the urban center of Teotihuacan appears and then disappears from the archaeological
record of the Bajío’ (p. 215).
 343

Hernández mentions a theoretical model that could help us understand ‘the

presence of imported pottery from Teotihuacan, copies of Teotihuacan luxury ceramics,
and other examples of Teotihuacan influence or style on material culture in the Bajío
region of north-central Mexico’ (p. 233). This model alludes to the actual presence of
people from Teotihuacan ‘either as merchants, migrant elites, or colonial administrators.
Material evidence… recovered from the site of El Rosario… Querétaro… proposes the
existence of a colonial enclave of teotihuacano elites who would have administered and
controlled the flow of commerce between regions of western and northern Mexico and
the Basin of Mexico’ (p. 233). However, archaeological research conducted at El
Rosario has not yet uncovered the physical evidence of residents who came from
Teotihuacan. Hernández argues that ‘there is another explanation for the Teotihuacan
evidence that does not require positing a “colony”… I believe Teotihuacan emissaries
and merchants initiated a form of cultural hegemony… among emerging elites in the
southern Bajío’. The evidence suggests to Hernández ‘that Teotihuacan merchants
created and administered long-distance trade between the Basin of Mexico and the West
just as societies in the southern Bajío were undergoing sociopolitical change. With
access to the exchange network of Teotihuacan imports and associated demands on
behalf of the metropolis for commodities and raw resources’ (pp. 233-234) the elites in
the southern Bajío may have begun to emulate and adopt the cultural institutions from
the Teotihuacan emissaries, as well as their ideology, and some elements of Teotihuacan
elite material culture and symbolism. This was done in order to promote and advance
the development of their own elite status and culture. ‘Teotihuacan style elements in the
material culture… present at El Rosario and other Bajío sites were some of the
ideological tools used by local elites to compete not only for political and economic
control of hinterlands, but to forge a Bajío elite culture’ as well (p. 234).
Millon (1988) contributed vital information for the discussion of cultural links
between central Mexico and the northwestern regions of the ecumene during the Classic
period. Millon stated the following about Teotihuacan interaction with the cultures to
the west of the Basin of Mexico, reaching to the northern steppes of Mexico: ‘The
major attraction for Teotihuacan of regions to the north seems to have been mineral
resources. The San Juan del Río section of southern Querétaro may have been linked to
Teotihuacan relatively early (ca. AD 400), judging from the abundance of
Teotihuacanoid ceramics there’ (p. 132). San Juan del Río may have formed part of a
‘northwest corridor’ to Querétaro and San Luis Potosí, originating in the Tula region.
 344

‘Cinnabar may have been the attraction in the Río Verde area of south central San Luis
Potosí ca. 400-500… Evidence of other Teotihuacan connections farther north and west
in Guanajuato also seems to be late… [i.e.] post AD 600. Hundreds of kilometers to the
northwest, mining operations were undertaken on a large scale in the Chalchihuites
district of Zacatecas… by the fifth century AD or earlier’ (p. 132). The scale of the
mining operations in this region during that period ‘is understandable only if what was
being mined was destined for use in populous central Mexico and the exploitation of the
mines “sponsored” by a power such as Teotihuacan. The mines yield cinnabar-bearing
sands, hematite, limonite, malachite, chert, and other minerals’ (pp. 132-133). The area
under discussion was also the source of blue-green stones such as malachite. This
mineral was ‘used to prepare the green pigments used in Teotihuacan mural and ceramic
painting… Cinnabar might also have been sought, perhaps before the exploitation of the
Sierra de Querétaro mines had begun. The same could be true of the “blue-green
stone”… Turquoise was imported from New Mexico to the Chalchihuites area and may
have reached central Mexico from this port of entry’ (p. 133).
In conclusion, the main lesson to be learned from this broad discussion of West
Mexico during the Classic period is that this region was by no means simply an isolated
or marginal cultural sub-area of the Mesoamerican ecumene. As we have seen,
Teotihuacan and other major cultures depended on trade and exchange throughout
Mesoamerica, and West Mexico was an active participant in this process. The vast
regions of western Mesoamerica were blessed with an abundance of natural resources,
which were the basis for a thriving economy, and there was a productive aquatic lifeway
in the abundant wetland and lake areas throughout the region. Another role played by
West Mexico was that of intermediary between central and southern Mesoamerica and
the numerous peoples who lived in the northern borders of the ecumene, reaching into
the present-day U.S. Southwest.
This new vision of West Mexican peoples as major dramatis personae in the
Mesoamerican story has emerged only slowly, hampered by problems like the
widespread looting of archaeological sites, the destruction of sites during infrastructure
works and urban expansion, and the general indifference of the authorities, the Mexican
archaeological establishment, and most people towards the country’s ancient past. I
hope that the present study will contribute to change the prevailing viewpoints about
West Mexican archaeology by highlighting the achievements of the original peoples
who lived in this part of the Mesoamerican ecumene.
 345

Figure 89. Map of the area covered by the Mesoamerican ecumene during the Classic period (ca. AD
250-900) (adapted from Evans 2004: Figure 10.1).

Figure 90. The talud-tablero was a common architectural feature of the Classic period (and later), as seen
in the Pyramid of Quetzalcoatl at Teotihuacan (photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 91. The apartment compound is one of the most remarkable characteristics of Classic-period
Teotihuacan. It is an example of urban life never before known in Mesoamerica (elevation of the Zacuala
apartment compound; adapted from Pasztory 1997: Figure 4.2).
 346

Figure 92. Drawing of the Xolalpan (Teotihuacan) apartment compound after excavation, showing the
remains of rooms, patios and other structures (adapted from Manzanilla 1993: Figure 9).

Figure 93. Each family in Teotihuacan’s apartment compounds had a specific area for cooking, eating,
and also for conducting craft activities (adapted from Manzanilla 2016: Figure 3).

(a) (b) (c)

 347

(d) (e)

(f) (g)

(h) (i)

Figure 94. Common Teotihuacan pottery forms: (a) censer (bowl with pedestal and conical top); (b)
cylindrical vase with low-relief decoration; (c) cylindrical tripod vase with low-relief decoration; (d)
tripod vase with al fresco paint decoration; (e) pot with Tlaloc attributes; (f) bowl with al fresco
decoration; (g) thin-orange pot with red spots; (h) Thin-Orange semi-spherical bowl with annular base
and incisions; (i) anthropomorphic vessel of the Thin-Orange type; (j) cups; (k) florero; (l) candeleros
(adapted from Sejourné 1966; objects are not to scale).
 348

Figure 95. Teotihuacan articulated figurines may have been used in household rituals (after Sejourné
1966: Plate 56).

Figure 96. These Michoacán-style figurines are among the elements that share a West Mexican heritage
in Teotihuacan (adapted from Gómez Chávez and Gazzola 2007: Photo 9).

Figure 97. The ‘Estela Lisa’ of Monte Albán shows four noble visitors from Teotihuacan, each one
wearing an elegant headdress and holding a bag of incense, facing a local lord (adapted from Marcus and
Flannery 1996: Figure 261).
 349

Figure 98. The Stela I from Monte Albán makes reference to some of the same Teotihuacan visitors
mentioned in the previous figure (adapted from Marcus and Flannery1996: Figure 261).

Figure 99. The Lápida de Bazán shows an ambassador from Teotihuacan holding an incense pouch (left),
and a Zapotec personage dressed as a feline with an elaborate headdress (right) (adapted from Marcus and
Flannery1996: Figure 281).
 350

Figure 100. Mound IV is a great pyramidal structure on the west end of Monte Albán’s Great Plaza. It
shows a modified version of the talud-tablero architectural decoration (after Fahmel Beyer 1991: Figure
55).
 351

Figure 101. Some Classic-period ceramic styles from Monte Albán (phase III-A) show a clear
relationship with Teotihuacan (adapted from Caso et al. 1967: Figures 263, 272, 275, 282, 289).

Figure 102. People from Teotihuacan arrived at El Tajín (Veracruz) after the collapse of their great city.
Their imprint includes the talud-tablero building style, although the general style of construction at El
Tajín is different from the Teotihuacan prototype (adapted from Lira 1995: Figure 2).
 352

Figure 103. This Tlaloc figure carved on a stela from Tikal is an example of the Teotihuacan style present
in the Petén area of Guatemala (adapted from Coe 1984b: Figure 43).

Figure 104. The stepped temple platforms of the Esperanza phase (ca. AD 300-600) at Kaminaljuyú
(Guatemala) show the typical Teotihuacan talud-tablero motif. They are an example of a mixed Maya-
central Mexican architectural tradition (adapted from Kidder et al. 1946: Figure 109).
 353

Figure 105. Some of the most elaborate ceramic vessels found at Kaminaljuyú were imported from
Teotihuacan. Here we see a comparison of ‘glyph’ motifs painted on Teotihuacan and Kaminaljuyú
vessels: (a) ‘serpent eye’ from Teotihuacan; (b) same from Kaminaljuyú; (c) flower design from
Teotihuacan; (d) same from Kaminaljuyú; (e) element from Teotihuacan tripod vessel; (f) same from
Kaminaljuyú (adapted from Kidder et al. 1946: Figure 100).

(g)

Figure 106a. Pottery forms in Kaminaljuyú included tripod vases with Teotihuacan-style incised (left) and
al fresco (right) decoration (adapted from Kidder et al. 1946: Figure 80).

Figure 106b. Thin Orange anthropomorphic pot from Kaminaljuyú. It is likely that this kind of vessel was
intended for the exclusive use of the invading Teotihuacan elite (adapted from Kidder et al. 1946: Figure
204).
 354

Figure 107. The ceramic tradition from the site of Las Lomas in the Lake Zacapu Basin, Michoacán,
shows great quality and technical skill in its manufacture, as well as a complex iconography (after Boehm
1994: figure on p. 281).

Figure 108. This vessel from Las Lomas contained ashes created by first cremating and then finely
grinding bones. However, it is difficult to tell whether these remains are human or animal in origin (after
Boehm 1994: Figure on p. 180).
 355

Figure 109. Loma Alta had an important ceremonial and funeral role. Excavations at the northwestern
sector of the site discovered a funerary complex pertaining to the Loma Alta phase (ca. 100 BC-AD 500).
Numerous burials were laid down in the same general area, during four consecutive stages (adapted from
Pereira 1996: Figure 2).

Figure 110. Map of Lake Zacapu, showing the remnants of the lake, and several archaeological sites:
Mich. 23 (El Palacio) on the western end; Mich 314 on the northwest, and Mich 313 on the north (adapted
from Arnauld 1996: Figure 5).
 356

Figure 111. The Loma Alta site was subjected to a general prospection based on magnetism and electrical
resistivity. This resulted in a ‘magnetic map’ showing all the major architectonic features that lay
underground (adapted from Carot and Fauvet 1996: Figure 3).
 357

Figure 112. The archaeological excavation of the areas of major building activity shown in the magnetic
map of Loma Alta revealed a series of walls, stairs, and other features, apparently from the Postclassic
period (after Carot and Fauvet 1996: Figures 7-9).

Figure 113. The Classic period is represented in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin by pottery from Queréndaro,
including figurines that may represent a cultural tradition with roots in the Formative period (after Boehm
1994: figure on p. 182).
 358

Figure 114. Several sites in Michoacán show evidence of Teotihuacan contacts, for instance ceramics
pertaining to the Thin Orange type, like these two vessels found near Morelia, Michoacán (after Boehm
1994: figure on p. 182).

Figure 115. Evidence of contacts between Teotihuacan and Michoacán include stone sculptures, like this
‘fire god’ found near Morelia (Museo Michoacano, Morelia; photo by Eduardo Williams).
 359

Figure 116. Tinganio is a major archaeological site located in the municipality of Tingambato, near
Uruapan, Michoacán. Tinganio is in a strategic location between two ecological niches: the cooler
highlands and the warmer lowlands. This map shows a fraction of the site’s core area, indicating the
places where excavation took place in 2015 (U1- U4) (adapted from Punzo 2016: Figure 3).

Figure 117. An architectural style was introduced into Tinganio that may be similar to Teotihuacan’s
talud-tablero (after Piña Chan and Oi 1982: Figures 19-21).
 360

Figure 118. The ceramic objects excavated at Tinganio include many different types of vessels with tall
base and negative (i.e. resist) decoration (adapted from Piña Chan and Oi 1982: Figures 6 a-g).

Figure 119. One of the salient features of Plazuelas (Guanajuato) is an ‘elite area’ with several plazas and
pyramids, as well as a ball-game court measuring 55 m long by 11 m wide. The ball court is associated
with a series of terraces and living areas (adapted from Castañeda 2007: Figure 5).
 361

Figure 120. Many buildings at Plazuelas follow ‘foreign’ architectural traditions, including one variant of
the talud-tablero that may be linked to central Mexico (after Castañeda 2007: Figure 27).

Figure 121. Some of the architectural decorations excavated at Plazuelas show a central-Mexican
iconography, including a stone ball-court marker (left) and an almena (merlon) or frontal roof decoration
(right) (after Castañeda 2007: Figures 9 and 34; objects not to scale).
 362

Figure 122. One of the sectors of Cañada de la Virgen (Guanajuato) that were studied and partially
reconstructed is known as ‘Complex B’. It is an area of plazas, platforms, and other forms of elite
architecture (after Zepeda 2007: Figure 9).

Figure 123. One of the major areas of Cañada de la Virgen is called ‘Complex A’, a sunken patio
surrounded by platforms and a pyramidal structure of monumental proportions (after Zepeda 2007: Figure
15).
 363

Figure 124. One of the most important natural features at Cañada de la Virgen is a pond, a natural
formation that was modified in order to use it as a water reservoir (after Zepeda 2007: Figure 13).

Figure 125. Aerial view of the raised fields in the Lake Magdalena Basin, Jalisco. The construction and
use of these earthworks coincide with the heyday of the Teuchitlán tradition, from the Late Formative to
the Late Classic periods (after Stuart 2005: Figure 1).
 364

Figure 126. Hypothetical reconstruction of the Lake Magdalena raised fields, based on field data gathered
by Phil Weigand in the early 1990s (adapted from Weigand 1996a: Figure 1).

Figure 127. This Teotihuacan-style pot may indicate cultural contact between Colima and the Basin of
Mexico during the Classic period (two views, after Matos and Kelly 1974: Figures 1 and 2).
 365

Figure 128. The Comala site, near Colima City, has the characteristic layout of the Teuchitlán tradition: a
cluster of circular platforms with central mounds. Two of the architectural circles are of monumental
proportions (adapted from Olay 2012: figure on p. 352).

(a) (b)

(c)

Figure 129. Shaft tombs were still being constructed in Colima during the Classic period. Objects found
inside the tombs include a bat-shaped carved shell (a); a horned acrobat with phallic attributes (b); and a
vessel with parrot features (c) (after De Santiago 1996; objects not to scale).
 366

Figure 130. The tombs discovered at El Maizal, near Ixtlán in southern Nayarit, have a vertical pit or shaft
and two chambers (adapted from Zepeda 1994: p. 73).

Figure 131. Reproduction of one of the few tombs excavated by archaeologists, rather than looters, in
Nayarit. It shows the funerary assemblage found in situ (Museo de Tepic, Nayarit; after Zepeda 1994: p.
76).
 367

Figure 132. Roll-out view of the decorative designs on the surface of a pseudo-cloisonné pottery vessel
from the site of Estanzuela, near Guadalajara, Jalisco (adapted from Lumholtz 1986: Plate XIV).

Figure 133. Teotihuacan merchants followed several paths from the Basin of Mexico to other areas of
Mesoamerica: (1) San Juan del Río, Querétaro; (2) El Bajío lowlands; (3) Lake Cuitzeo Basin,
Michoacán; (4) Colima; (5) Alta Vista, Zacatecas; (6) La Quemada, Zacatecas; (7) Costa Grande,
Guerrero; (8) Oaxaca Valley; (9) Matacapan and southern Gulf Coast Lowlands, Veracruz; (10)
Kaminaljuyú, Guatemala Highlands; (11) Copán, Honduras; (12) Tikal, Petén, Guatemala (map by
Eduardo Williams).
 368

(a)

(b)

Figure 134. Teotihuacan-style murals found at El Rosario, a Classic-period site in the Valley of San Juan
del Río, Querétaro (after Saint-Charles et al. 2010: Figures between pp. 18 and 19).

Figure 135. Reconstruction sketch of the El Rosario mural shown in Figure 134b. It shows a member of
the Teotihuacan elite in full regalia (adapted from Nielsen and Helmke 2017: Figure 18.1).
 369

Figure 136. Another mural at El Rosario, showing Teotihuacan iconography (after Saint-Charles et al.
2010: Figure between pp. 18 and 19).

Figure 137. The stela from San Miguel Totolapan (in the Tierra Caliente region of Guerrero) has
attributes linked to Tlaloc (left). The iconography may be interpreted as ‘Teotihuacanoid’, but the style
corresponds to a local stone-working tradition (adapted from Reyna 1990: Figure 1). Another stela comes
from Tepecoacuilco, in the north of Guerrero (right). It shows a figure of Teotihuacan’s Storm God
(adapted from Nielsen and Helmke 2017: Figure 18-2) (objects not to scale).
 370

Figure 138. Stone disk with a relief representing a Mesoamerican deity (probably Tlaloc), from the Costa
Grande region of Guerrero (adapted from Manzanilla 2008: Figure 62).

Figure 139. The Malinaltepec mask is one of the best-known objects related to Teotihuacan culture. The
mask is executed in a purely Teotihuacan style, covered by turquoise and shell. It was found in the state
of Guerrero (copyright © Arqueología Mexicana/Editorial Raíces, Mexico City; reproduced with
permission).
 371

Figure 140. Necklace with zoomorphic pectoral made of green stone (probably turquoise) from
Michoacán. The use of this type of adornment was reserved for the elite (after Boehm 1994: Figure on p.
209).

Figure 141. Necklace and earrings of turquoise, the latter with gold rings (Museo Michoacano, Morelia).
 372

Figure 142. Necklace and pendant made of green stone (with an attached gold piece), found in
Michoacán. Green stones and gold were the primary markers of elite society in Postclassic Mesoamerica
(after Boehm 1994: Figure on p. 215).
 373

CHAPTER VI
THE POSTCLASSIC PERIOD (ca. AD 900-1521)

This chapter is divided in two parts; the first one is about the central and southern area
of the Mesoamerican ecumene in the Postclassic period, while the second part deals
with West Mexico in the same period. In this chapter I present a discussion of urban life
and various aspects of culture in Postclassic central Mexico (Tula and Cholula) and
southern Mesoamerica (the Mixtec area of Oaxaca), that explores the cultural
institutions and economic base that enabled the Toltecs and Mixteca-Puebla peoples to
travel to West Mexico in the pursuit of trade and, eventually, to foster strong cultural
(and religious) ties with local cultures there. Second, I present an analysis of the
patterns of interaction between West Mexican cultures and their neighbors from central
Mexico and southern Mesoamerica during the Postclassic period.
Part 2 deals with a detailed discussion of Postclassic culture in West Mexico:
Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and Sinaloa. The emphasis here is on the
integration of the western regions of the ecumene into the social and historical processes
that made up one of the pristine civilizations of the ancient world.
Finally, in the last section I examine the cultural, political and economic
processes that led to the formation of a trade system linking West Mexico with the rest
of the Mesoamerican ecumene. The expansion of a religious and artistic phenomenon –
known as the ‘Aztatlán tradition’– and its supporting trade system is explored by means
of analogy with several archaeological and ethnohistorical models of interaction in the
Old World, such as the Uruk trade system and the Silk Roads, among others.

Part 1. The Central and Southern Areas of the Mesoamerican Ecumene in the
Postclassic Period
We saw in Chapter V that Teotihuacan was one of the ruling cultural and political
powers in Mesoamerica during the Early Classic period. This situation changed around
the middle of the sixth century (ca. AD 500-600). Apparently, there was a popular
revolt in the great city, perhaps motivated by ‘the failure of the rulers to bring forth
enough fertility and riches. Buildings along the Street of the Dead were torched…
extensive and deliberate acts of destruction… by the city’s inhabitants… triggered a
final period in the Classic city’s life’ (Evans 2004a: 275). Teotihuacan did not become a
‘ghost town’; however, there is evidence to suggest that while ‘its surviving elite
 374

families may have departed… many people remained. It was still a large city in terms of
its population, but after this event it lacked the power to influence life beyond its own
confines’ (p. 276).
After the downfall of Teotihuacan and other states of the Classic period, the
political map of the Mesoamerican ecumene changed drastically (Figure 143), and the
‘climax area’ of Mesoamerican civilization moved to a different part of the ecumene.
The city of Tula, in the present state of Hidalgo, saw an epoch of florescence during the
Early Postclassic period (ca. AD 900-1200). The Toltec state became one of the
dominant polities in the Mesoamerican scene; its influence was felt throughout the
ecumene, from northwest Mexico to the Yucatán Peninsula. The Toltec have been
described by Nigel Davies as the Mesoamerican Kulturvolk par excellence. Davies
(1977) wrote that ‘as heirs to Teotihuacan and ancestors to the Aztecs, the Toltecs stand
astride the history of Mesoamerica. They occupy a central or pivotal position; one might
thus compare them with the creators of Tihuanaco in the northern Andes, with the
Egyptian Middle Kingdom, or perhaps even with the European Middle Ages’ (p. 3).
The role played by the Toltecs as world shapers touched most Mesoamerican peoples,
and their influence was felt throughout the ecumene, including West Mexico, as we
shall see later in this chapter.
During the last period before the Spanish invasion of Mesoamerica in the early
16th century, ‘the entire area… from the Aztec highlands to the Maya lowlands and
beyond, constituted a single economic and cultural zone integrated by commercial
exchange and a variety of other types of social interaction. The high degree of long-
distance integration… is one of the remarkable features of Mesoamerica during this…
time period’ (Smith and Berdan 2003:3). Commercial relationships and other forms of
cultural and political contact over long distances ‘reached new heights of intensity and
importance in the centuries prior to the Spanish conquest… The volume of exchange
expanded greatly during this interval, and economic networks became increasingly
commercialized with the widespread use of money, marketplaces, and merchants’ (p. 3).
Smith and Berdan have written that many authors in the early 20th century, who
lacked reliable archaeological data, ‘invoked migrations of peoples and vague processes
of long-distance “diffusion” to explain the course of cultural development in different
regions’ (p. 3). This situation changed around the 1960s, when several scholars ‘applied
an archaeological perspective… that sought the causes of social changes in the local
environment, not in the vague long-distance influences of the diffusionists…’ However,
 375

this extreme preoccupation with ‘local areas and environmental adaptations prevented
scholars from appreciating the full extent and significance of long-distance exchange
and interaction’ (p.3).
Recent research has revealed ‘the nature of Postclassic innovations in long-
distance trade and… interaction, and the extent to which [they] permeated life in
societies’ far-and-wide within the Mesoamerican ecumene. ‘Empirical advances include
new results from the chemical sourcing of ceramic, obsidian, and metal artifacts;
expanded regional surveys and household excavations; new analysis of texts and
documents; and more-systematic studies of Postclassic art and iconography’ (p. 3).
Richard Diehl and Janet Berlo (1989) have stated that ‘civilizations experience
continual change, yet the rates at which this occurs are not regular or constant’. It has
long been known ‘that short periods of dramatic change frequently follow long periods
of relative stability. Such episodes are especially common during times of social,
economic, and political stress, conditions that invariably accompany the decline of cities
and states’ (p. 1). According to these authors, ‘one such transitional episode in
Mesoamerican prehistory [is] the decline of Teotihuacan… the demise of this great city
triggered one of the most pervasive transformations in the long history of
Mesoamerican civilization’ (p. 1).
Millon (1988) has pointed out that ‘the end of Teotihuacan as a major power was
fiery and cataclysmic… Violent destruction and burning were confined largely to
monumental architecture on the Street of the Dead and to temples and associated
buildings in the rest of the city… On the Street of the Dead and for varying distances on
either side of it unequivocal evidence of burning was found on 147 buildings’ (p. 149),
with an additional 31 structures that were possibly burned in the conflagration.
Elsewhere in the urban area, ‘of a total of 68 temples examined… 28 were burned and 8
were possibly burned… It is clear that the principal targets of burning were temples,
pyramids and [other] public buildings’ (p. 150). Millon asks the following question:
‘What were the circumstances immediately preceding this deliberately planned
systematic destruction?’ (p. 150), and suggests this answer: ‘The location and intensity
of the fires along the Street of the Dead point to an organized, planned campaign of
ritual destruction… [that] most frequently took the form of burning in front and on both
sides of staircases and on the tops of temple platforms’ (p. 150). An example of these
destructive actions comes from the Plaza of the Moon, where ‘enormous stones… were
removed… and thrown a few hundred yards away… [in] a huge effort of purposeful
 376

destruction… Similar destruction was found in the southwestern part of the Moon
Plaza’ (p. 151). But ‘even more dramatic evidence of violence comes from the North
and South Palaces of the Ciudadela, where dismembered individuals were found…
[with] their skulls shattered and their bodies cut to pieces’ (p. 151). One of the victims
found in the North Palace ‘evidently had been richly adorned. Associated with the
dismembered body were many plaques of jade… and beads of jade, black stone, and
shell. Burial 72 was… another dismembered individual [and] still another individual
was found dismembered near the main patio of the South Palace’ (p. 152). Widespread
destruction is suggested by ‘evidence of burning on floors and walls… visible
everywhere in both the North and South Palaces’, while ‘the Temple of Quetzalcoatl
was undergoing destruction at this time as well… The great stone heads adorning the
temple facades were dismantled and sent crashing down’ (p. 152).
Mesoamerica underwent fundamental cultural and political changes during the
five centuries before the Spanish conquest, what we now call the Postclassic period.
Many of these changes originated during the Epiclassic period (ca. AD 700-900) (Diehl
and Berlo 1989). Some of these new traits were simply minor elaborations of pre-
existing features, but others had profound consequences. Among the most important
transformations are the following: (1) the emergence of new political centers; (2)
population movements; (3) new trade relationships; and (4) innovations in religion and
architecture. In Mesoamerica, virtually all the centers of power of the Early Classic
period were abandoned during the 8th century AD, but were promptly replaced by new
communities. The processes that brought about these changes are still not well
understood. One aspect that is clear, however, is that the collapse of Teotihuacan was
not a unique event, as none of the other, contemporary regional centers –Monte Albán,
Matacapan, Kaminaljuyú, Cobá and Tikal, among others– survived its demise (Diehl
and Berlo 1989:3). The Toltec state was the dominant polity of the Early Postclassic
period (ca. AD 900-1200). Our story begins before the founding of Tula (Hidalgo), the
Toltec capital.
Tula and the Toltecs
Healan (2012) has said that to most scholars working in Mesoamerica, the name ‘Tula’
brings to mind many topics that go far beyond the archaeological site itself, located in
southern Hidalgo. The most common trait of the narrative about Tula is the city’s long-
standing association with Tollan, the legendary capital of the Toltecs (pp. 53-54).
 377

Tula is located some 30 km north of the Basin of Mexico in an area surrounded by

mountain ranges and crisscrossed by streams that provide passage into neighboring
regions. The ancient city is situated on the southwest corner of a broad alluvial plain
that is today productive agricultural land. Tula’s core area occupies an elongated north-
south upland along the river of the same name (p. 55).
According to Healan, the part of the site known as ‘Tula Grande’ has a main
plaza measuring approximately 130 by 150 m. This plaza is flanked by several
monumental constructions, including the two largest pyramids at the site, called
Pyramids B and C. The placement and orientation of these pyramids are reminiscent of
the Sun and Moon Pyramids at Teotihuacan. Another pyramid at Tula Grande is
Building K, located on the south side of the main plaza. Excavations here discovered
portions of Building K’s superstructure, which support a colonnade flanking an
elongated columned gallery. There is a common architectural form at Tula Grande
consisting of a large building containing two or more prominent ‘columned halls’ each
with an unroofed, often sunken, patio or atrium located at the center (Figure 144:
Buildings 1, 3, and 4). The largest structure is Building 3, known as Palacio Quemado
(burned palace), which contains three contiguous halls of columns lined with benches
decorated with painted friezes. Building 1 is the Palace of Quetzalcoatl, and Building 4
has also been interpreted as a palace on account of its large size and a grand
entranceway measuring nine meters in width (pp. 60-61).
There are some 375 partially-preserved columns at Tula Grande, including
colonnades (Figure 145). Some columns were square and constructed of stone masonry,
often with a timber core and covered by stucco (Figure 146); others have monolithic
anthropomorphic and zoomorphic forms, including the famous Atlanteans (Figure 147),
the warrior columns (Figure 148), and columns depicting serpents (p. 62).
In many Mesoamerican urban settlements, such as Teotihuacan, structures were
constructed using stone and concrete, so they have left ubiquitous, easily-discernible
surface remains. In the case of Tula, however, very few of the surviving structures,
especially domestic ones, are directly visible today, because they were made with
adobe. But even ‘adobe cities’ leave surface traces, though a variety of methods are
required to discern them, as will be discussed later.
The ‘skull rack’ is perhaps one of the best-known architectural forms produced
by the Toltecs. Near Tula’s Ballcourt 2, the remains of a rectangular platform appear to
represent a skull rack, or tzompantli, judging from the numerous fragments of human
 378

teeth and crania that were found atop that structure (p. 63). Although this skull rack has
not been preserved in its entirety, the Aztec version of this kind of structure gives us an
idea of its probable shape (Figure 149). In addition to the tzompantli, other forms of
death imagery appear in Tula’s iconography (Figure 150), as well as in Aztec art.
Healan (2012) mentions the existence of a corpus of distinctive artistic traits that
pertain to a well-defined Toltec style. Most sculptures at Tula are made of volcanic
rock, and were probably made in the locality, since at least one rural site has evidence of
stone sculpture manufacture. The Toltec style includes free-standing, in-the-round
sculptures, including the colossal Atlanteans and serpent columns, as well as the
reclining human figures known as chacmools (Figure 151). Most of Tula’s sculpture,
however, is bas-relief, chiseled on slabs of soft volcanic rock that is easily-worked
(Figure 152).
The history of human occupation in the Tula area begins many centuries before
Tula itself was founded. Healan (2012) mentions that the earliest evidence of human
activity consists of Early and Middle Formative pottery found in modern construction
sites in downtown Tula de Allende. These finds include a burial, and suggest a
settlement of unknown size. The earliest well-defined settlements are four sites
containing Late Formative (Ticomán III) ceramics. Three of the four sites are of small
size, while the other, called La Loma, covers an area of some 15 hectares atop a mesa.
Excavations at La Loma discovered burials with ceramics of the Chupícuaro tradition.
This pottery is not limited to burials; in fact as much as five percent of the decorated
pottery at the site is of Chupícuaro affiliation. It is possible that La Loma’s supporting
area covered the northern part of the Basin of Mexico, where other sites hold both
Ticomán and Chupícuaro ceramics. The location of La Loma at the apex of an area of
major settlement could mean that it functioned as a ‘gateway community’ (Healan
2012).
Moving forward in time, we see that during the Classic period most of the
settlements in the area under discussion are of a dispersed nature, consisting of surface
scatters of archaeological materials that may represent homesteads, temporary camps or
other small sites. There also are 12 large, nucleated sites with a dense surface artifact
cover and monumental architecture, including the site of Chingú (Figure 153). There is
a strong variability in size and complexity among the Classic-period Chingú phase sites,
suggesting a possible four-tiered settlement hierarchy, with Chingú at the top. The
distinctive talud-tablero façade characteristic of Teotihuacan monumental architecture
 379

is seen in numerous rectangular stone fragments found at the site. Chingú contained
around 475 visible mounds, some of which are rectangular and show an orientation
similar to that of Teotihuacan. These mounds include two rectangular enclosures, one of
them comparable in form to Teotihuacan’s Ciudadela, though of smaller proportions.
Healan (2012) regards as almost certain that Chingú was under the control of
Teotihuacan during the Early Classic. Because of the extensive calcareous deposits in
the immediate region, and the massive volume of lime used at Teotihuacan, he suggests
that lime exploitation may have been a major activity of the Chingú phase settlements in
the region. Another asset was the highly fertile-alluvial plain that may have been an
important resource for agriculture. Chingú is one of the earliest urban centers in the
Tula Valley. It is located some 9 km east of Tula, in the middle of the alluvial zone,
between the Salado and Tula rivers (Díaz 1980). At its peak, Chingú covered an area of
around 2.54 km2; the central part of the site, where the main structures are located,
occupies a slight elevation of the terrain (p. 5).
Healan (2012) says that numerous sites with Teotihuacan ceramics are also
present in the southern part of the Mezquital Valley along Tula’s northern flank, and
have been interpreted as manifestations of colonization by the Teotihuacan state. The
Teotihuacanos were likely interested in the region’s mineral and forest products. It is
important to note that this region includes the Pachuca obsidian source, which appears
to have been under Teotihuacan’s direct control.
The transition from the Classic to the Epiclassic period is discussed by Healan
(2012), who holds that by the end of Teotihuacan’s Metepec phase (ca. AD 650)
virtually all Chingú phase sites in the area under discussion had been abandoned.
Epiclassic settlement in the Tula region is associated with the Coyotlatelco ceramic
complex. The majority of sites are dispersed, although there are nine large, nucleated
settlements, including Tula Chico (Figure 154), which contains a central plaza, several
pyramids and large platforms. Tula Chico’s ceramics resemble those described for
Coyotlatelco sites in the Basin of Mexico.
Throughout Mesoamerica, the Epiclassic period (ca. AD 700-900) was
characterized by political instability. The fragmentary ethnohistorical traditions that
some scholars believe originated at this time confirm archaeological evidence of
frequent migrations throughout the area. The small-scale movements of people must
have been quite common in Mesoamerica at all times, but during these two centuries
there were dramatic changes in the size of the populations and the distribution of their
 380

settlements. Long-distance commerce in Mesoamerica suffered important modifications

after ca. AD 600-700, as some trade routes became more popular at the expense of
others. Teotihuacan’s networks of routes towards western and northern Mexico were
eclipsed by other regional powers, and the restoration of commercial ties with those
areas during the 10th and 11th centuries under the Toltecs followed different routes and
directions (Diehl and Berlo 1989:3-4).
According to Millon (1988), Teotihuacan’s demise as a world power was
interpreted as ‘destruction by fire’ by Armillas and others, and that explanation ‘has
been amply confirmed. But the destruction… cannot be understood purely in terms of
pillaging, looting, and burning… the destruction of the city’s temples recalls planned
acts of destruction at other times and places in Mesoamerica’ such as the Olmec and
Maya areas, where it was ‘sometimes followed by renewal and rebuilding’ (p. 154).
Millon goes on to say that in the case of Teotihuacan, ‘the extent, intensity, and
excessiveness of the destruction argue that, although its form was ritual, its purpose was
political… Those who destroyed Teotihuacan, whether Teotihuacano or foreigner,
juxtaposed a tradition of ritual destruction of monuments, whose purpose was
essentially religious, with a tradition of the destruction and burning of a temple to
achieve a political end’ (p. 155). In Millon’s opinion, whoever destroyed this great city
had the ultimate purpose of eliminating Teotihuacan’s political power and influence.
Millon asks the question: ‘Who did it?’ And then says that he and other scholars
‘have been trying with little success to resolve the problem of who was responsible for
the destruction of the center of Teotihuacan… but evidence for the identity of the
attackers is largely negative. No exotic or foreign persons or artifacts have been
associated with it… It now seems to me more likely that Teotihuacanos rather than
outsiders were responsible’ (p. 156). Millon came to this conclusion because the level of
destruction implies ‘a sustained motivation and dedication that seems more likely to be
the consequence of explosive internal pressures than of actions carried out by outsiders’
(p. 156). As for the ultimate reasons for the overwhelming revolt that attempted to
overthrow the state, Millon points to ‘evidence suggesting deteriorating conditions in
the exchange network of the state within and beyond the Teotihuacan domain [that]
would have posed increasingly severe political problems both within the city and
beyond it… Increasing stress may have exacerbated existing differences, resulting in
divisions so profound as to shatter the structure of Teotihuacan society’ (p. 156). Many
public or elite structures, such as temples and palaces located in the political center of
 381

the city ‘were subjected to especially violent treatment, [therefore] the city’s rulers must
have been the major target of the assault’ (p. 156).
The fires were likely followed by at least a partial abandonment of the city by
the members of the elite (priests, rulers, state administrators, and so on). In Diehl and
Berlo’s (1989) opinion, ‘the most common explanation… is that the original inhabitants
deserted the city after the fire and were replaced by culturally impoverished immigrants
of the Coyotlatelco period (AD 750-950). At the same time Teotihuacan degenerated
into a cultural and political backwater with no significance beyond the confines of the
Teotihuacan Valley’ (p. 9). An alternative viewpoint has been proposed based on
research suggesting that ‘Teotihuacan remained a major center into the ninth and
perhaps the tenth centuries… Coyotlatelco Teotihuacan was something more than a
mere squatter settlement. In addition… the Coyotlatelco population included craft
specialists involved in the same kinds of activities that had been integral components of
the… economy’ during the Early Classic period (p. 9).
According to Diehl and Berlo, ‘the Coyotlatelco period… is defined by the
presence of Coyotlatelco red-on-buff pottery, a distinctive ware with red geometric
designs applied to a buff or yellow background (Figure 155). Coyotlatelco style
pottery… has been found in the Basin of Mexico, the Toluca Valley, [the state of]
Hidalgo, and elsewhere in Central Mexico’ (p. 11). Diehl and Berlo sum up their
discussion of the Coyotlatelco period by stating that ‘the cultural disintegration’ that
took place during this time ‘involved replacing various elements of Teotihuacan’s urban
tradition with new but smaller-scale social, economic, and political arrangements…
Coyotlatelco Teotihuacan was a true city by any definition based on size or economic
criteria. However, it apparently lacked an architectural tradition, large public
construction efforts, monumental art, and even a definable art style’ (p. 16). During this
time it is difficult ‘to detect an elite, although it surely existed. Apparently the ideology
and power that held together the Teotihuacan world for so many centuries ceased to
exist and was not replaced’ (p. 16).
Guadalupe Mastache and Robert Cobean (1989) wrote the following about the
Teotihuacan-related occupations in the Tula region: ‘The Tula region was directly
integrated into Teotihuacan’s political and economic system during much of the early
Classic… (AD 200-400)… The Tula region contains two very large Teotihuacan
settlements, Villagran and Chingú. Villagran covers approximately 80 hectares and is
less than 1 km north of Tula’s Early Postclassic urban zone’ (p. 51). Chingú extends
 382

over an area of 2.5 km and is located at a distance of 10 km east of Tula. Apparently, it

was ‘the area’s key political and administrative center during the Early Classic and
probably functioned as an intermediary between Teotihuacan and the Tula region’ (p.
51). According to Mastache and Cobean, ‘the Teotihuacan state created a substantial
infrastructure for exploiting various resources in the Tula area, specifically a large
irrigation system… which permitted intensive agriculture, and numerous limestone
extraction zones… This infrastructure made an important contribution to the Toltec
state in later times’ (p. 51).
Many centuries after the period mentioned above, during the Late Classic (ca.
AD 650-750), ‘nearly all of the Teotihuacan-related settlements in the Tula area were
abandoned… This abandonment was directly related to Teotihuacan’s decline as a
political and economic center, a decline that involved radical changes in Central
Mexican population distributions, settlement patterns, and political and economic
relationships’ (p. 51). The changes mentioned above prompted ‘the development of
numerous autonomous regional centers, many of which were established in easily
defended positions such as hilltops’ (p. 55), something indicative of the era’s unstable
political environment. New local styles in ceramics, architecture, iconography and other
cultural manifestations developed in the new regional centers; this may represent the
arrival of new ethnic groups that prompted changes in the original cultural traditions of
the region (p. 55).
In their discussion of the Coyotlatelco culture in the Tula region, Mastache and
Cobean state that: ‘The abandonment of Teotihuacan-related sites in the Tula region is
accompanied by radical changes in ceramic traditions and settlement patterns. The
principal new pottery types are related to the Basin of Mexico Coyotlatelco complex’
(p. 55), while two settlement types can be defined in the Tula area during Coyotlatelco
times: ‘Hilltop communities and those located on more gently sloping lower
elevations… settings that offer good defensive… positions… and are located at some
distance from irrigable land… All of these Coyotlatelco settlements contain cultural
elements that strongly suggest that at least one segment of their population consisted of
recent immigrants’ from northwestern Mesoamerica; i.e., the region covered by the
present states of Querétaro, Guanajuato, Zacatecas or Jalisco (p. 55).
Regarding the migrations during the Epiclassic period from a wide area of
central, western and northern Mesoamerica to the region that would become Tula’s
main territory, George Cowgill (2013:145) has said that
 383

Epiclassic materials at Teotihuacan, Cerro Portezuelo, and elsewhere in central

Mexico provide less evidence of Teotihuacan inheritance than is often claimed
or assumed. Epiclassic ceramic complexes may derive from Teotihuacan
antecedents, but the proportion of new elements is large. This does not, by itself,
demonstrate beyond all reasonable doubt the arrival of substantial numbers of
newcomers, but it lends additional support to that scenario, which is also
suggested by biological, lithic, and linguistic evidence… These newcomers
apparently interacted in complex ways with Teotihuacan survivors… Ethnic
identities probably shifted and may have been rapidly redefined.

Mastache and Cobean (1989) conclude their discussion of the origins of the
Toltec state with the following observations: ‘In our analysis of Tula as an example of
an early state… we have used the following general concepts: The state necessarily
consists of a society divided in classes, with a centralized power belonging to a group or
governing class which organizes the society and is placed above the rest of that society,
controlling production, distribution, and consumption’ (p. 64) of both everyday
commodities and strategic resources. Other basic characteristics of the Toltec and other
Mesoamerican states included ‘territoriality and a highly developed religion which
organizes the thought and worldview of the people and is the principal mechanism of
ideological control… The state, in addition, involves the existence of physically
coercive institutions’ such as an army (p. 64). In terms of social complexity and
economic development, the Coyotlatelco communities that lived in the hilltop sites
would ‘appear to constitute a transitional status between egalitarian societies and the
state. These settlements possess some degree of socioeconomic stratification but lack
developed classes and other complex social, economic, and political institutions that are
present in early states’ (p. 64).
One such ‘Coyotlatelco community’ is Cerro Portezuelo (Nichols et al. 2013),
an archaeological site located in the eastern Basin of Mexico. Nichols et al. tell us that
‘Cerro Portezuelo’s long occupation… began in the Late/Terminal Formative (ca. 600
BC-AD 100) and continued beyond the Spanish Conquest. It is a strategic site to
investigate the dynamics of state formation, involving episodes of centralization and
fragmentation over this long span’ (p. 47). This ancient site was ‘situated in often-
contested territory, shifted its interactions as regional power centers changed over its
long history… [and] after the Teotihuacan state fragmented Cerro Portezuelo…
 384

expand[ed] and [became] the center of one of the largest Epiclassic city-state clusters in
the Basin of Mexico’ (p. 47). These authors used data from Cerro Portezuelo to address
issues concerning the organization of the ‘Teotihuacan state in its inner hinterland, its
collapse, and the development of Postclassic city-state organization’ (pp. 50-51). During
the Epiclassic period, in the context of the ‘political vacuum and instability caused by
the breakup of the Teotihuacan state, Cerro Portezuelo expanded from a small local
administrative center… to one of the largest Epiclassic centers in the Basin of Mexico’
(p. 61). Migration may have fueled much of this growth, but we may also ‘see a pattern
of population dispersal and relocation from Teotihuacan, with some foreign groups,
especially artisans, merchants, and “intermediate elites” moving into the Basin of
Mexico to take advantage of opportunities created by the political, economic, and
ideological vacuum brought about by Teotihuacan’s collapse’ (p. 61).
One notable process during the Early Postclassic period was the growth of
commercial exchanges between many areas and peoples. There were many active
production zones in the Basin of Mexico, and the exchange of ceramics and other
commodities expanded significantly in this period. According to Nichols et al., the
political and economic interactions between Cerro Portezuelo and its hinterland
underwent a marked shift. Pottery and figurines from this site ‘show strong similarities
to ceramics at Teotihuacan, the center of an Early Postclassic city-state, and to Tula, the
Toltec capital’ (p. 63).
Following the collapse of the Teotihuacan state, ‘economic and political
interactions contracted and took place mostly between neighboring city-states’. This
situation ‘encouraged the growth of local production… The Epiclassic set the stage for
the dominance of city-states and confederations began in a volatile and sometimes
hostile political environment’ (p. 65). For the rest of its occupation, Cerro Portezuelo
continued its close ties to the eastern Basin of Mexico, but eventually it lost its position
as a city-state center. This may have been connected to Tula’s decline, as suggested by
ethnohistoric sources, or to the growing importance of lakeshore trade and lacustrine
resources that gave lakeside polities an advantage.
Crider et al. (2007) have shown that ‘following centuries of Teotihuacan’s
domination of central Mexico, political fragmentation and the development of new
regional centers marked the Epiclassic in the Basin of Mexico. Despite this political
fragmentation, the Coyotlatelco ceramic complex was used throughout the Basin and
adjoining areas, including the Tula region, The Valley of Toluca, and parts of Tlaxcala’
 385

(p. 123). During the Epiclassic period (ca. AD 650-800/950), there was a process of
change in the Basin of Mexico, whereby ‘the Basin’s population was realigned into a
series of settlement clusters of different sizes indicative of city-states… relations
between them were competitive and perhaps hostile. Economic decentralization
accompanied political fragmentation after the fall of Teotihuacan as a macro-regional
power’ (p. 123). None of the Epiclassic polities controlled, or even extensively
exploited, key strategic resources such as Pachuca (Hidalgo) obsidian; ‘this may be due
to the reduced scale of immediate post-Teotihuacan polities… and possibly [to] the
existence of inter-regional trade barriers, even including hostilities in Central Mexico’
(pp. 123-124).
Crider et al. also suggest that the broad distribution of Coyotlatelco style
ceramics was not due to either widespread exchange between production zones in the
Basin or to the dominance of a single production center. Indeed, there is little evidence
for overlapping markets in Coyotlatelco-decorated serving wares (p. 138).
Although ceramic wares bearing the Coyotlatelco style are widely-distributed in
the basin and adjoining areas, ‘there are important sub-regional stylistic and
morphological differences… It is possible to distinguish five… Coyotlatelco variants—
eastern, southern, western and northern Basin of Mexico that include the Tula area…
[and they] may represent geopolitical groupings’ (p. 139). In the Epiclassic and
Postclassic, the large states that had flourished during the Classic period broke up to
form small city-states. This process ‘was not unique to the Basin; it occurred throughout
much of Mesoamerica… In the aftermath of the breakup of the Teotihuacan state…
increased market competition would have encouraged the production of new styles and
local varieties of decorated serving wares distinct from those associated with the Classic
period state’ (p. 139).
In her analysis of the historical processes that changed the predominant
sociopolitical configuration from centralized systems to city-states in the Postclassic,
Joyce Marcus (1989) has said that archaeologists and other social scientists
…have long been interested in the fall of civilizations and the breakup of
powerful, centralized, expansionist states… Processes leading to dissolution
include: (1) invasion by other ethnic or political groups; (2) a weakening of the
state’s ability to maintain its borders and protect the… outlying regions; (3) and
overextension of the state’s political and economic resources; (4) a decreasing
ability to control newly incorporated groups and rival populations; (5) an
 386

increasing inability to legitimize continuous territorial expansion…; and, (6) an

inability to maintain previous alliances (p. 201).

In Marcus’ opinion, there are two cultural and political processes that usually
lead to a reorganization of territory after the demise of a centralized state such as
Teotihuacan; first, ‘new alliance formations (including marriage alliances, military
defense leagues, or political confederacies) in which two or more polities unite for a
common goal’, and second, ‘a dispersal of the elite (and their specialized staff and
supporters) away from the former population centers into other localities, sometimes
resulting in the growth of new centers at the expense of old ones’ (p. 201).
Marcus sees the city-state as one of the forms of government that often occur
after the dissolution of a centralized state. The city-state is a system of multiple,
autonomous polities that compete for control over a territory. Ancient Tula was such a
city-state during the Early Postclassic period.
During this time frame, the Toltec state saw its period of greatest cultural
achievement. Daily life in Tula is represented by a ceramic assemblage that included
different wares for domestic and ritual or ceremonial use (Figure 156). Toltec trade
wares –such as Fine Orange and Plumbate effigy vessels– appear in many areas far from
Tula where the Toltec state had economic, military, or other interests (Figure 157).
Mazapa-style bowls decorated with wavy lines are characteristic of the Early Postclassic
Toltec ceramic assemblage (Figure 158), while clay figurines were linked to religious
cults in Tula, with many styles being popular in different periods (Figure 159).
Residential Life at Tula. Tula was a well-planned city; at its peak (during the 10th-11th
centuries) it may have housed as many as 50,000 people (Figure 160). Healan (2012)
reports that numerous structures of a residential nature have been encountered in
excavations in at least 22 different localities within the ancient city. Builders utilized the
same methods and materials seen at Tula Grande with greater use of adobe, featuring
exterior walls of mud-mortared stone foundations overlain by courses of adobe blocks.
Most of the 22 localities show clustered arrangements of rooms or whole buildings
interpreted as residential compounds that housed multiple families (Figures 161 and
162). They have been characterized in two distinct types: house compounds, or house
groups, in which each component family occupied a separate building or house, and
apartment compounds, in which each occupied a portion of a single building. The best
examples of apartment compounds at Tula are spacious, well-built structures with
 387

plaster-covered and possibly painted floors and walls that may have been elite
residences. A common feature in both house and apartment compounds is a courtyard
that apparently served as common spaces and were the focus of activities involving the
entire compound.
Healan (2012) thinks that these 22 localities were residential in function because
of associated artifacts and features that include utilitarian pottery, metates, hearths and
in situ braziers (p. 67), while ‘possible food preparation areas, identified by whole
metates and associated pottery vessels, were generally located in and around exterior
courtyards… Braziers, censers, and human figurines suggest household-level ritual
activity, while ritual activity at a higher level is indicated by structures interpreted as
altars in the courtyards of many residential compounds’ (p. 68). At least three altars
containing human burials suggest veneration of a common ancestor and the likelihood
that the component families were related. One of the domestic structures studied by
Healan (1989:100) is House IV (Figure 163), which is considered part of the Central
Group. This house and its adjacent patio are situated atop an artificial platform erected
over the remains of earlier structures. House IV is small and inferior in construction to
most of the other houses. The stone wall remnants were rather low, and the adobe found
around them indicates that the upper sections were of adobe blocks. The interior walls
consisted entirely of mud or clay without the use of stone in the lower courses. House
IV lacked any of the decorative or aesthetic architectural elements found in other
houses, such as lime plaster, decorative facades, or elaborated doorways… The interior
space… was subdivided into two rooms… flanked by a narrow corridor… probably an
exterior porch or open area’ (p. 100).
According to Healan (2011b), practically all the structures that have been
exposed by excavations at Tula have wall foundations made of limestone or volcanic
rock. The most intact walls are around one meter tall, on top of which the adobe blocks
were laid to form the rest of the exterior wall. Although stucco was used to cover the
floors and interior walls of some houses, it was not used as mortar in the construction of
foundations; instead the foundations were consolidated with mud. These techniques
produced a structure that did not last beyond the abandonment of the city and did not
leave well-defined remains on the surface (p. 167).
Healan (2011b) mentions that ever since the writings of art historian George
Kubler (1984), several authors have characterized Tula as a modest settlement in the
northern Mesoamerican periphery. In fact, to the untrained eye, Tula appears as modest
 388

in scale, since outside of the site core there are relatively few mounds that would appear
to pertain to an abundant population. It is very important to understand that because
Tula was made of adobe, once the city was abandoned, the walls rapidly decomposed
without leaving discernible traces on the surface. Therefore, there is little
correspondence between surface topography and the underground archaeological
evidence. There is no better example of this than the El Canal locality (Figure 164),
where the wall foundations were well-preserved, and the remains of houses, plots of
land and even small temple platforms can be found under the surface, though no
indication of their existence was visible above ground. In fact, a visitor standing on the
surface would hardly be able to see any topographic evidence of the structures lying
under the earth.
The absence of perdurable remains makes it difficult to perform calculations of
the magnitude of the population in a site such as Tula. This is a challenge that requires
using less obvious evidence, such as surface concentrations of potsherds, obsidian
blades and other artifacts. Equally important is the presence of dispersed stones on the
surface, which were once part of the walls of numerous structures. Furthermore, in
several places one can see fragments of stucco floors, stone foundations, burials and
other pre-Hispanic features where the terrain has been partially-eroded, or in dikes,
mining zones and other modern alterations (Healan 2011b).
It is clear that during its peak occupation Tula was a great city, perhaps the
greatest in central Mexico during the Early Postclassic period (p. 176). However, the
paucity of visible structural remains on the surface has hampered efforts to estimate
Tula’s population at its height. Healan (2012) suggests a minimal population of 60,000
persons, based on Tula’s overall size (p. 66).
Subsistence Activities. The residential contexts described above, as well as an urban
setting such as Tula’s, would not be possible without a sophisticated and productive
subsistence base, consisting of agriculture and other activities, such as hunting, fishing
and gathering wild resources. In their study of pre-Hispanic subsistence at Tula,
Mastache et al. (2002) say that ‘although the study area is small enough to visit any
point from the city of Tula in one day, it has… diverse ecological niches and different
kinds of potential resources that must have been fundamental for the sustenance of the
population of the ancient city and its rural environs’ (p. 237).
The regional settlement pattern studies conducted at Tula consider the area’s
maize production potential as the main criterion for calculating the region’s agricultural
 389

capacity. Excavations made in domestic Tollan-phase contexts in the city and its
surrounding area have permitted the recovery of archaeological remains of a wide range
of wild and cultivated edible plants, including various races of maize, as well as
numerous samples of carbonized botanical material, some of which were found in
primary contexts.
Mastache et al. (2002) tell us that ‘the archaeological maize specimens
recovered in the… excavations in Tula… include fragments of stalks, leaves, roots,
grains, cobs, and ears… nine different probable races were identified’ (p. 238).
Furthermore, ‘an area’s maize-production potential [is] a fundamental indicator in
defining its carrying capacity… various suppositions [about maize agriculture] are
implicit, principally: (1) that this plant had the same importance in the diet of pre-
Hispanic populations of the area as it currently has for a large part of the country’s
population; (2) that the characteristics of cultivation, yield, and uses of the plant are
comparable with those of present-day traditional agriculture’ (p. 243).
Nevertheless, there are many factors and conditions that are either unknown or
difficult to determine in relation to the cultivation of maize in the pre-Hispanic period,
such as: ‘The races used, their characteristics and size, their genetic potential and yield
capacity, forms of use, the predominant systems of cultivation… soil quality and
fertility levels… use of fertilizers… and the frequency of frosts, droughts, and plagues,
among others’ (p. 243).
After maize, beans (Phaseolus vulgaris) were considered the second-most
important crop in Mesoamerica, and were an indispensable part of the diet of pre-
Hispanic peoples, as well as an important source of vegetable protein. Apparently, in
pre-Hispanic times ‘beans were above all planted in association with other crops,
principally maize, chili peppers, and squash, as is still frequent in traditional systems…
various archaeological species of Phaseolus have been found both in the urban zones
and in excavations in Tepetitlán’ near Tula (p. 252). Among the nine Phaseolus remains
excavated in one of the urban habitation zones, six were wild and the rest cultivated.
This would suggest that both types were stored in the same granary, but the wild type
dominated. Likewise, it could be proposed that domesticated Phaseolus was not the
principal source of consumption for this cultigen during the Tollan phase. Rather, the
population of the city would have depended primarily on one or more species of wild
bean.
 390

Another cultigen present at Tula was Amaranth (Amaranthus leucocarpus or A.

hypochandriaus). It is well-known that this plant was a basic crop in several regions of
Mesoamerica during the pre-Hispanic period. Together with maize, beans and chia
(pigweed), amaranth was one of the principal products for the diet of Mesoamerican
peoples. Its diverse uses as foods –tamales, atole, tortillas, pinole, or fresh as a
vegetable-– and its ritual use in association with important religious ceremonies gave
amaranth an important place both at the table and in the temples. Pollen studies have
shown that amaranth was an important crop in the Tula region, no doubt because this
plant ‘has greater resistance than maize to drought and frost, high potential yield in soils
of different qualities and characteristics, the ability to be stored for long periods of time
without spoiling, and especially that it has high nutritional value… in the Tula area,
amaranth could have been as important a crop as maize, or perhaps even more important
in drought situations, when it could have functioned as an alternative fundamental crop’
(p. 258). 1
Maguey (Agave sp.) was one of the most important plants in semi-arid
environments such as the Tula region. Mastache et al. (2002) noted that in recent years,
‘various researchers have stressed the importance of maguey as a source of drink and
food in pre-Hispanic times… in many regions it is a primary and complementary crop…
one of these regions is… the Tula area, where the cultivation of this plant has
undoubtedly been very important during various periods’ (p. 260). Mastache et al. insist
on the outstanding role of maguey in Mesoamerica, stating that ‘the traditional concept
of the Mesoamerican diet based on the triad of maize, beans and squash does not seem
valid in this case, because it is very likely that the fundamental crops of the Toltec diet
constituted a different triad –maize, amaranth and maguey– crops that may also have
been important in other regions’ (p. 269).
In discussing Toltec subsistence, Healan (2012) says that in Aztec times the Tula
region was taxed in maize and amaranth, while another cultigen of importance in pre-
Hispanic central Mexico was maguey, ‘whose sugary sap is today consumed fresh or
fermented (pulque), and its roasted leaf and trunk are eaten as well. Maguey is also a
major source of cordage, thread, sharp spines, building material, and fuel’ (p. 90).
Pulque production is an important industry in the Tula region to this day and, according

1
See Weigand (2011b) for an ethnographic study of amaranth cultivation among the Tepecano Indians of Jalisco in the 20th
century. This plant was consumed during times of hardship, especially when the maize crop failed due to drought or other problems.
 391

to historical sources, the surrounding area provided this beverage as tribute to the Aztec
Empire.
Healan (2012) has argued that the complex of cultigens discussed above,
primarily maize, amaranth and maguey, ‘is precisely that cited in recent arguments…
that the expansion of Mesoamerican civilization into the dry highland regions of
northern central Mexico was made possible by the integration of seed-based cultivation
and specialized maguey production’ (p. 91). Many of these crops were produced in
Tula’s hinterland. Healan has defined the Toltec hinterland as ‘the area and settlements
that probably provided Tula’s occupants with most of its food and labor and in turn
were dependent on the city for various goods and services’ (p. 92). Thus the city and its
hinterland are interdependent components of the larger state, as indicated by
archaeological evidence, such as a shared ceramic assemblage that pertains to a
common cultural tradition, and the existence of markets and other cultural links.
Mastache et al. (2002) broaden the discussion about Tula’s hinterland, from the
perspective of irrigation as an indispensable input for agriculture: ‘In this kind of
habitat, where water has been a limiting factor for agriculture, irrigation was
undoubtedly of vital importance for the people who occupied the area in various
periods’ (p. 33). These authors conducted research on the contemporary traditional
irrigation systems in the Tula area in order to determine its agricultural potential,
finding that ‘the geomorphological characteristics of the region and its hydrographic
features largely dictate the location of dykes and canals… it is very likely that the pre-
Hispanic works of this kind were located on the same points as the later systems’ (p.
33). Among the traditional irrigation works of the 18th and 19th centuries, ‘the most
important systems include those that fed the alluvial valley lands. In those times, as
now, it was necessary to channel the water from the extreme southern part of the area by
means of long canals’ (p. 35).
Several irrigation systems in the Tula region were fed by the Salado River, while
the Tula River was the origin of various irrigation canals: ‘Still partially used up to the
1970s… a simple ditch almost 10 km long… irrigated land… to the south of the pre-
Hispanic city… The Xochitlán irrigation system… [is] of vital importance for various
towns in the area, including the [modern] city of Tula itself. The system is fed by a
spring… The water from this spring is channeled to the Rosas River… where it joins
water coming from other springs’ (p. 38).
 392

The water-management systems in the Tula region are rather complex because
they combine stretches of flowing water in rivers and streams with sections of canals
and excavated ditches several kilometers long. However, from a construction point of
view, the technology employed here was quite simple, since there are no aqueducts or
underground sections used to conduct water to the areas under cultivation.
Mastache et al. discuss the potential irrigation capacity in the area under
discussion during the Early Postclassic period. In their opinion, since the location of
dikes and canals is conditioned to some extent by the topography of the terrain, it is
very likely that the pre-Hispanic hydraulic works were similar to the modern traditional
systems (some of which are still in operation) in terms of location and other
characteristics. From a technological point of view, these hydraulic works are very
simple in comparison with the systems of the haciendas that had aqueducts, arches and
other architectural elements characteristic of the Colonial period.
On the basis of archaeological, historical and ethnographic information,
Mastache et al. found that in Tula’s ‘intermediate environs there are various points of
potential irrigation… [They] are generally just narrow strips of lands along the length of
rivers... the total potentially irrigable land in the area… is approximately 3,000 hectares’
(p. 212).
In addition to agriculture, the inhabitants of the city of Tula and its hinterland
relied on hunting and gathering numerous wild animal and plant species, the
consumption of which is still very important in traditional societies. In arid areas such
as the Tula region, hunting and gathering activities played a principal role. This
included all kinds of edible plants, like seasonal fruits (garambullo, capulín, tunas,
mesquite, palm and maguey flowers), as well as various kinds of animals (mammals,
reptiles, birds, etcetera) and insects. Until recently, fishing and the hunting of deer,
hares, rabbits, pheasants and other kinds of birds was very important for local
inhabitants. One of the major plant resources was the nopal (Opuntia sp.); the role of
diverse species of Opuntia for human consumption in an arid environment such as the
study area cannot be exaggerated. It is very likely that many of the current uses of this
plant by the Otomí people of the area have parallels with its utilization in the pre-
Hispanic period. Mastache et al. have written that ‘currently there is very widespread
use of both cultivated and wild nopals in the area. [These] species [are] divided into…
two groups: one of them… is cultivated in crop fields or plots and in vegetable gardens;
the other… includes wild races that are exploited due to the plant associations’ (p. 271).
 393

There are various wild tuna (i.e. prickly pear) species in the region under
discussion. These fruits usually ripen at different times and have distinct characteristics.
The tuna is not only consumed fresh, but also in a form of atole (a gruel made of
maize), crushed and without seeds, with maize dough added. Another product of the
prickly pear is called queso de tuna; it consists of solidified tuna juice and has a high
nutritional value. Queso de tuna may be stored to be used in times of need. The nopal is
also a source of animal protein since old stalks and the bases of older leaves contain
colonies of white worms, which are consumed with chili sauce.
Other important wild plant species in the Tula general area include garambullo
(Mytrillocactus geometrizans), zapote blanco (Casimiroa edulis), and mesquite
(Prosopis sp.). Apart from the plants themselves, gathering activities also targeted some
species of insects that colonize some of the trees and bushes mentioned above. A case in
point is the shavis, or mesquite bug, an edible species of insect. Other gathering
practices in the region involve the red maguey worm, which is caught in September, and
is eaten grilled. The maize cob worm was also used as food, as well as various game
birds. Aquatic resources included the ajolotes (from the Nahuatl axolotl, a salamander
of the genus Ambystoma) that were caught in jagüeyes (water holes) and eaten roasted
with chili peppers. Charales (small fish) and acociles (freshwater shrimp or crayfish)
were also consumed.
It is still possible to find many native species of fish in some rivers and dams in
the region. These were undoubtedly an important potential source of food for the pre-
Hispanic population during the Toltec period, as many of the ancient sites in the area are
close to the main rivers.
In summary, Mastache et al. say that ‘there is archaeological evidence… for
different species of fauna, some of which were undoubtedly important as food…
freshwater mollusks and the bones of dog (Canis sp.) and deer (Odocoileus
virginianus)… hare (Lepus californicus and L. callotis), rabbit (Sylvagus auduboniti and
Sylvagus sp.), and turkey (Meleagris gallopavo)’ (p. 272). Other faunal species that
were present at Tula include ‘the armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus), wild pig (Tayassu
tajacu), turtle (Terrapene sp.), and the sea turtle’ (p. 274).
Household Economy and Craft Production. Craft production at pre-Hispanic Tula
‘appears to have occurred generally in a domestic setting, which agrees with other
evidence that household-based craft production was the norm in Mesoamerica… While
some was probably non-specialized activity engaged in by most households for their
 394

own consumption, ceramic and lithic production were more specialized and involved
relatively few of Tula’s households’ (Healan 2012:71). This conclusion is supported by
the analysis of refuse dumps that show individual deposits containing a mixture of core
and blade debitage with domestic refuse. Healan (2012) holds that both ceramic and
lithic craftsmen engaged in multiple craft activities, or ‘multicrafting’, which may have
been a common practice in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica. An example of this situation
comes from an obsidian workshop in the Cruz Locality of Tula that also engaged in the
manufacture of shell and bone artifacts and various objects made from prismatic
obsidian blades, including eccentric trilobal items. Another example of multicrafting
was documented in the U98 ceramic workshop which manufactured figurines, spindle
whorls and decorative architectural elements. Other possible evidence of different crafts
performed in one workshop consists of surface concentrations of unifacial obsidian
flakes sharing the same general area where figurines were manufactured. However, the
small volume of craft production suggests that this was probably not a major source of
wealth for the city. Rather, Tula seems to have depended upon its hinterland for much
of what the city consumed.
In the course of excavations in many of Tula’s residential compounds, Healan
(2012) found numerous metates that, in his opinion, ‘suggest… [the] grinding of maize
prepared by nixtamalization, probably the chief form in which maize was consumed in
pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica’ (p. 68). In the same residential compounds, ‘evidence for
craft production consists largely of by-products of manufacture recovered in both
excavation and survey. The most abundant evidence involves two utilitarian craft
activities, obsidian… and ceramic vessel production’ (p. 68). Healan discovered that
surface concentrations of figurine fragments, including part of one figurine mold,
indicate possible production areas for mold-made pottery human figurines of the
Mazapan type. Another important industry in archaeological context at Tula is the
manufacture of tecali (travertine) vessels, represented by cylindrical drill plugs that
apparently were discarded by the craftsmen (p. 70).
Innovation and change in ceramic production at Tula has been suggested by
Healan (2012) based on ‘the appearance of new ceramic wares… [including] a variety
of innovations in how ceramics were produced… All of these innovations involved
vessels whose form suggests a probable serving function; they may reflect significant
changes in the social, economic, and political milieu in which ceramics were produced,
distributed, and consumed’ (p. 86). One of the most significant innovations involved the
 395

use of molds to enhance the speed and output of the vessel fabrication process that
previously had relied on coiling or hand-modeling. The extensive use of molds in vessel
manufacture at Tula may indicate mass production of utilitarian pottery.
Toltec Presence in Mesoamerica. In his discussion of the Toltec presence beyond Tula,
Healan (2012) recounts how the Aztecs believed that Tula controlled a large empire that
supposedly covered much of Mesoamerica. There is, in fact, little supporting
archaeological evidence for this claim, but there are indications that Tula’s hegemony
extended to the north and west well beyond its hinterland. Examples include the areas
near Querétaro, northern Guanajuato and southern San Luis Potosí.
The archaeological record shows a string of settlements with strong Toltec
affiliation in the eastern Bajío and the arid lands of north-central Mexico as far as San
Luis Potosí. There also may have been some sort of direct interaction between Tula and
parts of eastern and southern Mesoamerica, including Chichén Itzá. In addition to this,
at least two Early Postclassic Pipil settlements in El Salvador show evidence of close
affinities with Tula. This could represent direct ties, perhaps of a commercial nature,
and may have also included colonization from Tula (Figure 165).
Tula exerted direct control over its hinterland, while also depending on it for
food and revenue. These are some of the defining characteristics of administrative cities.
In comparison to the politico-religious centers of other pre-Hispanic states, Tula Grande
is distinctive in that it apparently lacks elite structures, such as palaces, and has few
temple-pyramids. Instead, Tula Grande has several buildings with large columned halls
where communal activities such as drinking and feasting, among others, may have taken
place. These ‘great halls’ suggest an emphasis on secular activity, and their presence,
instead of palaces, could suggest group or corporate leadership, a political strategy in
which power is shared by different groups or sectors of society (Healan 2012).
Research conducted by Diehl (1983) at Tula, and in various other regions of
Mesoamerica, discovered that the Toltecs relied on a widespread network of contacts
with many Mesoamerican regions. This included Oaxaca, where the Mixtecs gained
political and economic control over much of highland Oaxaca by the time Tula became
a major power. Another region where the Toltecs established a close political and
economic relationship was the Gulf Coast. We have seen in previous chapters that
Matacapan was a major Teotihuacan colony or ally, and functioned as a key control
point in the lowland trade route followed by Teotihuacan merchants. Matacapan
flourished for a short time after the Teotihuacanos withdrew before being replaced by El
 396

Tajín, a large Postclassic city located in central Veracruz. El Tajín became a major
Mesoamerican state after Teotihuacan’s downfall, and Diehl suggests that ‘Tula and
Tajín coexisted and shared a frontier somewhere in the Sierra Madre Oriental
Mountains. The apparent absence of evidence for contact between the two centers
suggests that they did not maintain friendly relationships’ (p. 143).
To the north of El Tajín is the Huasteca, an area of special interest to the Toltecs,
although the specific nature of the contacts there is not very clear. Archaeological sites,
artistic traditions, and extant ethnohistorical sources suggest a strong Huastec impact on
Toltec religion and ritual, including the cult to Ehecatl, the Wind God. There is some
evidence of trade and contact between Toltecs and Huastecs at several sites in the
Huastec region, including a few ceramic types that closely resemble Tollan phase
materials. Also, Toltec-style architecture can be seen at Castillo de Teayo and other
Huastec sites (p. 144).
In his discussion of the Toltec presence in the Maya Lowlands, Diehl points out
how remarkable it is that ‘the farther from central Mexico one goes, the better the
evidence becomes for Toltec contacts. The best evidence is found in Yucatán, where
archaeological remains and local historical traditions indicate conquest by a group of
Toltec or other Mexican peoples under strong Toltec influence’ (p. 144). The Mexican
invaders established their capital at Chichén Itzá and controlled most of northern
Yucatán for approximately a couple of centuries. After AD 800, the Maya entered a
period of unprecedented difficulties, ‘which culminated in the abandonment of much of
the area by the end of the ninth century… The depopulation of such a vast area makes
the Classic Maya collapse a very unusual phenomenon’ (p. 145). In one of the
native accounts of Yucatec-Maya history, the invaders of Yucatán are the Maya-
speaking Putun, who came from the western edge of Maya territory in the modern states
of Tabasco and Campeche. A second group of conquerors arrived at Chichén Itzá in AD
987; they were led by a character named Kukulkan, the Yucatec word for Quetzalcoatl
(i.e. Feathered Serpent). According to Diehl, ‘everything about them suggests direct ties
with the Tula Toltecs. Archaeological investigations… confirm and amplify this sketchy
historical outline… [as does] a Toltec-Maya phase when Toltec architecture and art
forms were faithfully copied… between AD 1000 and 1200 or 1250’ (p. 146).
During the Toltec-Maya period, many structures of hybrid Toltec-Maya style
(pyramids, ball-game courts and a tzompantli, among others) are found throughout
Chichén Itzá. Also present is the chacmool (Figure 166), and a ‘beautiful stone jaguar
 397

carved in the round… Its position in the temple suggests it was a throne’ while ‘the
Chac Mool’s function… was… as an altar for holding offerings or other objects’ (p.
147).
Covarrubias (1957) wrote that ‘the “Maya-Toltec” period, which lasted from the
eleventh to the thirteenth centuries, [is] when the Toltec architectural elements appear
[in Chichén Itzá]… all of the Toltec-style buildings belong to this period’ (p. 286). One
of the Toltec-inspired structures, known as El Castillo (the castle), is ‘a great pyramid of
nine bodies with four stairways in the shape of snakes, one on each side, and a…
sanctuary on the top… During its exploration the pyramid was discovered to contain…
a limestone reclining statue, a Chacmool, and… the famous Red Jaguar Throne’
(Figure 167). The jaguar is ‘carved out of a great block of limestone. This fierce,
snarling jaguar was totally painted with brilliant vermillion cinnabar, with canines of
white flint, eyes made of two large balls of gleaming apple-green jade, and eighty spots,
distributed over all its body, made of disks of the same green jade’ (p. 287).
In his description of Toltec architectural features at Chichén, Diehl (1983)
mentions that ‘the Group of the Thousand Columns… contains several colonnaded halls
facing a large interior courtyard (Figure 168). Its layout is very similar to that of the
entire Tula Grande Plaza and the colonnaded halls with their decorated interior benches
were clearly copied from Tula prototypes’ (p. 149). Other evidence of Toltec influence
is ‘the Tzompantli or Skull Rack, which seems identical to the largely destroyed
Tzompantli… at Tula. The platform sides are covered with grisly carved stone panels
showing human skulls strung on upright poles… these probably symbolize the real
skulls which once covered the platform summit’ (pp. 149-150) (Figures 169 and 170).
Diehl says that, although there is no archaeological evidence for direct Toltec
contacts with the Guatemalan highlands, there are indications of commercial ties,
however indirect, between the two areas. Diehl mentions that ‘the quetzal feathers so
highly prized by the followers of Quetzalcoatl could only have come from this area, the
bird’s only known habitat. Also, the large quantities of Plumbate pottery at Tula may
have arrived there via highland Guatemalan intermediaries. The trade in these exotic
goods was presumably routed through Putun merchants in Tabasco and Campeche, and
perhaps even through Chichén Itzá’ (p. 152).
From the Maya area in southern Mesoamerica we now move to northern
Mexico, where the presence of Toltec cultural traits is evident at several sites, including
Alta Vista, Zacatecas. As we saw in the previous chapter, during the Early Classic
 398

period, ‘Teotihuacanos or their representatives took control of Alta Vista and embarked
on a major program of construction, colonization, and economic exploitation. Their
interest in this distant area was due to the presence of exotic minerals such as malachite,
cinnabar, hematite, limonite, colored chert, galena, and rock crystal in nearby gravel
deposits. The Alta Vistans may have mined these minerals before the Teotihuacan
intrusion but the operations were greatly expanded after they took control’ (p. 153).
Eventually, the people of Alta Vista found out about the existence of ‘large
turquoise deposits far to the north in what is today New Mexico. They began to send out
expeditions which mined this valuable blue-green stone and brought it back as raw
material. Workshops for processing turquoise were established at Alta Vista where
beads, tiny chips for mosaic elements, and other articles were produced by local
craftsmen… as the local mining industry declined, turquoise replaced it in the economy’
(p. 153).
Some architectural features at Alta Vista, such as colonnaded halls and skull
racks, appear to be prototypes for later structures at Tula, 2 while ‘other notable features
shared by the two sites include skull portrayals in art, human sacrifice, and
cannibalism… Alta Vista society [is seen] as an oppressive colonial enterprise whose
primary motivation was profit from labor intensive mining and exotic resource
extraction’ (p. 153). Alta Vista did not suffer an immediate crisis when the Teotihuacan
settlers abandoned the area, perhaps because it found new clients for green stones in
other parts of Mesoamerica (p. 154).
According to Jiménez (2018), during the Alta Vista phase (ca. AD 600-900) in
northern Zacatecas and surrounding areas, there is large-scale evidence of specialized
economic activity. ‘The identification of over 800 mines dating from ca. AD 350 or 400
to 900 underscores the scale of labor invested in this activity’ (p. 119). The pre-
Hispanic mines in this area ‘were sources for weathered chert, quartz, limonite,
hematite, and diorite, which have been proposed as part of the prestige goods produced
in the area… The ceremonial center of Alta Vista contained evidence of having been a
production center of blue-green stone beads and pendants’ (p. 119).
Kelley (1990) did extensive archaeological fieldwork in Zacatecas over a long
period of time. He has said that ‘between AD 800 and 900 the Alta Vista ceremonial
center (Figures 171 and 172), cut off from major trade with West and Central

2
Marie A. Hers (1989) has proposed the idea that the chacmool, the tzompantli, the hall of columns and other Toltec features may
have appeared first in northwest Mexico, and were brought over to the Toltec heartland at a later date.
 399

Mesoamerica, developed into a small state involved in warfare with other similar states,
and much involved in human sacrifice, complete with skull racks and what is believed
to be a warrior’s palace, and with a solar observatory’ (p. 488). By the middle of the 9th
century ‘Alta Vista shows evidence of cultural decline, and by AD 900 it was almost
certainly burned and abandoned’ (p. 488).
Another important site in this arid area was the fortress of La Quemada (Figure
173), located several hundred kilometers south of Alta Vista, in the Río Malpaso Valley
(Diehl 1983). This was a marginal area until the Toltecs or their allies established
themselves there around AD 900. The site has extensive fortifications, and its setting on
a steep hill makes it one of Mesoamerica’s most inexpugnable military complexes. In
addition to the defensive walls, there are temples, a ball court and a colonnaded hall.
There is also an extensive network of roads that connected La Quemada to outlying
settlements in the valley. Apparently, ‘La Quemada was a major control point along an
inland trade route which extended north from central Mexico to the turquoise sources at
Chaco Canyon, New Mexico… much of the precious green stone was sent to Tula
where it was either used or re-exported to still other consumers’ (p. 154). We do not
know who built and occupied La Quemada, but Diehl believes that ‘it could certainly
have been the Toltecs, for the site was located near the borders of their realm and was
occupied during Tula’s florescence’ (p. 154).
The final northern site to be mentioned here is Casas Grandes (or Paquimé),
Chihuahua (Wilcox et al. 2009). Although Casas Grandes is located far north of the
Mesoamerican border, this site was a trade and manufacturing center with strong links
to central or west Mexico. The Medio period (ca. AD 1060-1340) was the time of its
florescence, when ‘a sudden, massive influx of Mesoamerican ideas and traits changed
virtually every aspect of Casas Grandes life. The new features included the feathered
serpent cult, ballcourts, the siting of buildings around courtyards, ceramic decorations,
and an entirely new economic orientation’ (Diehl 1983:155).
Shells from the Gulf of California were used as raw material by local artisans in
Casas Grandes, together with copper, turquoise, rock crystal, specular iron crystals and
other rare minerals and stones that were procured from the surrounding area of desert
and mountains. Another important craft at Casas Grandes was feather-working, ‘and the
excavations uncovered remains of imported exotic birds such as scarlet and military
macaws as well as aviaries where they were kept’ (p. 155). Numerous products
manufactured at Casas Grandes were traded north to Arizona and New Mexico and
 400

south into central and west Mexico. ‘This desert emporium prospered for about 200
years but stagnation and decay set in during the middle of the 13th century… [until] its
destruction at about AD 1350, when it was attacked and burned… Apparently the
attackers were… local area residents who simply wanted to end the tyranny of the Casas
Grandes overlords’ (p. 156).
Diehl wonders about the nature of the relationship between Casas Grandes and
the Toltecs, and suggests that ‘Tula was already on the wane when the period began and
even if the Toltecs provided the initial impetus, other groups had to replace them as
consumers after Tula’s collapse… I suspect… that Casas Grandes’ major markets were
located in Michoacán, Jalisco, and other parts of West Mexico rather than Tula’ (p.
156).
In their study of Casas Grandes and other sites in the northern periphery of the
Mesoamerican ecumene, Phillips and Carpenter (1999) address the issue of cultural
links between the Casas Grandes people and the Toltec state. They recount how Charles
C. Di Peso, in his synthesis of the Casas Grandes culture (published in 1974), wrote that
this site ‘epitomized Mesoamerican domination of the Greater Southwest. In AD 1060
the Toltec merchants… established Paquimé as their base for economic and cultural
control of the region. When the Toltec Empire collapsed, Paquimé became a
beleaguered outpost. In 1340 nomads burned the town, leaving their victims where they
fell’ (p. 78). In recent years, Schaafsma and Riley (1999) have presented a different
interpretation of events in the Casas Grandes area, arguing that this settlement ‘had
nothing directly to do with Tula or the Toltecs, nor was it an “outpost” of any other
empire. This was an autonomous world that existed in its own terms and was not
situated at the northern edge’ of some major culture area (p. 249). During the height of
Casas Grandes (ca. AD 1300-1400), ‘there was considerable contact with the
developing Pueblo cultures to the north, most clearly demonstrated by religious art
motifs like the horned and sometimes plumed serpent’ (p. 249). Casas Grandes’ sphere
of interaction has come to be regarded as ‘one of the most dynamic and significant in
the… American Southwest… For over 250 years [this culture] formed a nexus with the
Pueblos of the American Southwest and peoples of Mesoamerica’ (p. 249), even though
the Toltecs themselves may not have been directly involved.
Jiménez (2018) made a historical review of archaeological concepts regarding
Toltec influence along the northern fringe of the Mesoamerican ecumene, which
narrates how ‘the recognition of Tula-Toltec preeminence over the western half of
 401

Mesoamerica coalesced within a period of fifteen years commencing with the First
Round Table Meeting of the Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología… in 1941’ (p. 138).
Several scholars took part in this ground-breaking symposium in order to discuss ‘the
theme of Tula and the Toltecs… two papers emanating from this Round Table [by]
Jiménez Moreno and Caso [respectively], had a profound impact [on] the… orthodox
Toltec hypothesis that was to extend through most of Mesoamerica. Jiménez Moreno’s
paper was the confirmation and distinction of the site of Tula (de Allende), Hidalgo…
as the place of the Toltecs referred to in ethnohistorical sources’ (p. 138).
One decade after that meeting, ‘Caso… proposed a new chronology for Central
Mexico in which he distinguished five major periods, the last two of which were
proposed as “Toltec” and “Historical” belonging to what we presently know as the
Postclassic period’ (p. 139). In his reconstruction of the so-called ‘Toltec period’ (AD
900-1200), Caso proposed Tula as the center of an empire whose influence was seen as
far afield as Chichén Itzá. Likewise, ‘several diagnostic markers of the Toltec horizon in
West Mexico were identified: tripod incised grater bowls or molcajetes, Red-on-Brown
and Red-on-White pottery, animal effigy vessel supports, cloisonné ceramics, Mazapan-
style figurines, spindle whorls, and the beginning of copper metallurgy’ (p. 139).
In the viewpoint discussed above, as proposed by Caso and other authors, ‘the
presence of Mazapan figurines, the Tlaloc/mountain cult and ritual paraphernalia,
among other elements, were seen as evidence that Tula had managed to do what no
other Central Mexican polity had done previously… nor after… [namely] to have their
ideas and religion permeate on such a wide territorial scale within Mesoamerica without
political control’ (p. 143). By the 1970s, the notion of a Toltec conquest ‘of West
Mexico… and all points north… had given way to substantial reinterpretation, that
suggested instead an “expanding religious structure” affiliated with Tula’ (p. 143).
The Downfall of the Toltecs. History teaches us that even the most powerful states are
doomed to fail and be swept away by the action of competitors, be it other states or
‘pillaging barbarians’. Diehl (1983) has discussed the demise of the Toltecs in the
following terms: ‘Toltec power and culture came to a catastrophic end in the latter part
of the 12th century when famine, rebellion, and chaos replaced the growth and
prosperity of the previous two centuries. By AD 1200 Tula was a ruined shell of its
former self and the Toltecs had dispersed all over central Mexico’ (p. 158).
Meanwhile, Davies (1980) reminds us that ‘history never repeats itself, even
though in Mesoamerica, as elsewhere, a repeating pattern emerges: an empire is formed,
 402

expands to maturity, falls asunder, and after a while a new one takes its place… the
course of Mesoamerican history adhered… to the pattern set by the ancient kingdoms of
the Old World: in Egypt, the Old, Middle, and New kingdoms, and in Mesopotamia,
Sumer, Babylon, and Assyria’ (p. 317). In both regions, ‘the crumbling of each empire
was followed by a period of more backward tribes… In the New World, periods of
stability and chaos often followed one another more swiftly than in the Old… New
World empires, with their rather static technology, easily became top-heavy. As the
urban populations grew, the means of production and the methods of transportation
could not match up to the challenge’ (p. 318).
Stahle et al. (2011) have pointed out that ‘archaeological, chronometric, and
historical data indicate that the collapse of Tula occurred around AD 1150… [during] a
period of intense drought, according to tree-ring data’ (p. 3) (Figure 174). Climatic data
from the northern reaches of the Mesoamerican ecumene have shown that ‘subsistence
agriculture has always been a precarious enterprise in the arid Tula area… dry years
meant total crop losses on un-irrigated fields which were so low that water could not be
drawn off into the canal systems. A single bad year caused hunger; several in a row
could easily create famine’ (p. 4). The Toltecs faced this problem throughout their
history, but scarce humidity and rainfall became more critical as the population grew.
The study by Stahle et al. identified a 19-year drought from AD 1149 to 1167. These
authors present evidence that this mid-12th century megadrought (the most extreme
drought of the past 1000 years over western North America), extended into central
Mexico. Stahle et al. found that ‘the 12th century event worsened to the north and may
have been a push factor in the migration of militaristic Chichimecs who have been
associated archaeologically with instability within the Toltec state and potentially with
the abandonment of Tula’ (p. 4).
In her discussion of the northern Mexican frontier during pre-Hispanic and
Colonial times, Braniff (2001) points out that during the 16th century the northern
territory beyond Mesoamerica was known as the Chichimecatlalli. This land was
occupied by peoples with a mode of subsistence and origins that differed from the
Mesoamerican ecumene. ‘These northern peoples, both nomadic and sedentary, were
known as Chichimecs, while the Teochichimecas were distinguished by being “entirely
wild” —that is to say that they did not have agriculture or permanent settlements’ (p.
33). While some of these native groups learned to till the soil, or were colonized by
 403

farming societies, many of the peoples who lived in the arid north of Mexico never
abandoned their nomadic or semi-nomadic way of life.
One of the traits shared by many states along Mesoamerica’s northern frontier
was the pressure exerted by ‘outlying’ human groups; that is, groups from outside the
territory under the state’s direct political control. This process can be understood by
analyzing an example from the Roman Empire, penned by Ammianus Marcellinus, the
last great historian of ancient Rome. Marcellinus lived in the fourth century AD, an era
in which the pressures on the Roman Empire were being felt due to the migrations of
the Huns, Goths and other invading ‘tribes’ (Fox 2008:312). Marcellinus left us an
invaluable description of the Huns, who were described as follows:
The people of the Huns, who are… quite abnormally savage… They have squat
bodies… and are so prodigiously ugly and bent that they might be two-legged
animals… their way of life is so rough that they have no use for fire or seasoned
food, but live on the roots of wild plants and the half-raw flesh of any sort of
animal… They have no buildings to shelter them, but avoid anything of the
kind… not so much as a hut thatched with reeds is to be found among them.
They roam at large over mountains and forests, and are inured from the cradle to
cold, hunger and thirst… They wear garments of linen or of the skins of field
mice stitched together… They are not subject to the authority of any king, but
break through any obstacle in their path under the improvised command of their
chief men (Marcellinus in Fox 2008:313-314).

In Mesoamerica, the Chichimecs have been regarded for centuries as the

‘barbarians of the north’ who threatened civilized peoples, eventually destabilizing the
entire cultural and political universe of the Mesoamerican ecumene. This is an
analogous case to that of the Huns and Goths who wreaked havoc with Rome. Around
1580, Fray Guillermo de Santa María authored La guerra de los chichimecas [The
Chichimec Wars], where he rendered a most vivid portrait of those people:
I will deal first with their customs and way of life… [the] Chichimeca… [like]
all Indians that are wanderers without home or crop-fields… could be compared
with the Arabs or African Alarabes… they fight and flee from each other,
because they do not mind leaving their home, town or field, since they do not
have [such things]. They find more comfort in living alone… as animals or
scavenger birds, who do not mix with each other in order to support themselves
 404

and find their food, and they would never get together unless the necessity of
warfare compels them to live next to each other (Carrillo 1999:289).

The subject of cultural interaction between Chichimec groups and

Mesoamerican civilized societies through time is a complex one. The very nature and
location of the frontier between ‘nomads’ and settled cultures has long been a topic of
debate. Weigand (2008) noted that ‘archaeologists and historians have always found it
difficult to precisely define the northern frontier of the ancient Mesoamerican ecumene.
The most common definitions use geographic criteria or lists of cultural traits that
supposedly were shared throughout this vast region’ (p. 11). These approaches,
however, ‘have not given much social depth to our understanding of the old northern
frontier’. Weigand goes on to say that we should not forget ‘that the north also
functioned as an inexhaustible source of migrants who brought to the south not just their
new cultural concepts, but also new tongues and technologies… with all this in mind,
we can question the notion of a marginal status of the northern regions close to the
Mesoamerican border’ (p. 11).
Eventually the Chichimecs would migrate south and play a substantial role in the
formation of the Aztec state and other polities of the Late Postclassic. But that is
another story…
The Mixtec State and the Mixteca-Puebla Artistic Tradition
In this section, I discuss the Mixteca-Puebla artistic tradition, one of the most important
expressions of Mesoamerican civilization during the Late Postclassic period. But in
order to contextualize this archaeological manifestation, I must first include a short
discussion of the Mixtec state in Oaxaca and their neighbors in Cholula, Puebla.
The Mixtec Culture. Ronald Spores (1984) defines the Mixtec area as that ‘region of
northwestern Oaxaca known to its inhabitants as Ñu Ñudzahui and to the… Aztecs as
Mixtlan, “Place of Clouds”; to the Spaniards the region came to be known as La
Mixteca’ (p. 3). At the time of the Spanish Conquest, early in the sixteenth century,
‘hundreds of thousands of Mixtec-speakers resided in three major geographical zones of
western Oaxaca. The Spanish colonists designated these regions as the Mixteca Baja…
in the north and northwest, the Mixteca Alta… in the mountainous central area, and the
Mixteca de la Costa… in the southwest and south… By far the richest and most
populous of the three regions was… the Mixteca Alta’ (p. 3) (Figure 175). In this
mountainous region, the Spanish invaders found ‘richness, resources, and potential
 405

economic value… [they] concentrated their greatest efforts at settlement, economic

exploitation, and religious conversion… the [Mixteca] Alta… [became the] scene of the
most spectacular development of aboriginal Mixtec culture’ (p. 3). The highest cultural
development and expansion of the Mixtec kingdom and its cultural legacy, as well as
the Mixtecs’ relations to other regions and cultures of Mesoamerica took place in the
Late Postclassic period, between AD 900 and 1520, or just before the arrival of the
Spaniards in the scene (p. 4).
During the Early Formative period, from 1500 to 200 BC, ‘the central valleys of
the Mixteca participated in a common pan-Mesoamerican Formative culture. The
settlements and many of the artifacts found in the area are virtually indistinguishable
from those found throughout Mesoamerica dating from this time’ (p. 5).
In the Early Classic period, from around 200 BC to AD 300, ‘the Mixteca shared
many cultural features with the Valley of Oaxaca… [these] connections remained strong
during the Late Classic period… around AD 500 there are clear material cultural
affiliations with Teotihuacan and the Valley of Mexico’ (p. 5).
In the Postclassic period, there was a change in cultural relations between the
Mixtecs and their neighbors: ‘Connections with the Valley of Mexico are pronounced
during the earlier part of the [Postclassic] period… [we see the] influence of a pervasive
Toltec state and culture, but the region develops patterns of settlement, artifact
complexes, artistic styles, and historic tradition that are distinctively Mixtec’ (p. 5).
According to Spores, ‘archaeological, pictographic, and historical evidence indicates…
that Mixtec culture [was] having a powerful impact on the cultures of Oaxaca, Puebla,
and the Valley of Mexico… in spite of the fact that much of the Mixteca [came] under
the political domination of the Aztec Empire in the late fifteenth century’ (p. 5).
The most outstanding aspects of Mixtec culture ‘were a well-developed
pictographic-writing system and the creation of documents recording dates, places,
events, mythology, and history. Seven of these deerskin documents have been
preserved, and they… provide relatively ample evidence of indigenous settlement,
social organization, government, economy, and ideology in late pre-Hispanic times’ (p.
7).
Archaeological and ethnohistorical research has shown that between AD 1000
and 1520, Mixtec culture ‘assumed the familiar form associated with… rulers, tiny
kingdoms, pictographic manuscripts (the Mixtec codices), brilliant polychrome pottery,
and fine lapidary and metal work. Many small kingdoms… developed in… the…
 406

Mixteca’ and formed ‘a vast network of kinship and marriage, coupled to some extent
with military conquest, [which] linked these kingdoms across geographical, and even
ethnic, boundaries to form an extensive and highly adaptive political system’ (p. 48).
The spread of the ‘Mixtec style’ to other parts of Mesoamerica is a well-known
fact of Mesoamerican culture history; in fact we can regard this process of cultural
diffusion as ‘an indication of the strength or attractiveness to other societies of Mixtec
art, ceramics, goldwork, painting, and writing. The Postclassic was also the time of the
spread of Mixtec peoples and sociopolitical institutions to the Valley of Oaxaca, and
very probably Mixtec artisans resided in Tenochtitlan in service to Mexican overlords
desiring their refined products’ (p. 62).
We know that the Mixtecs interacted with their neighbors on many levels. For
instance, ‘in the Postclassic period Mixtec royalty intermarried with the Zapotec
aristocracy of the Valley of Oaxaca. Simultaneously, sizable numbers of Mixtec
speakers were relocated from the Mixteca into Valley of Oaxaca communities known to
be linked through marital alliance to Mixtec cacicazgos. At the same time… much of
the Mixteca Alta was subjugated to the Aztec Empire’ (p. 62).
Bernal (1970) wrote that ‘we have known of the presence of the Mixtec culture
in the Valley of Oaxaca for some time… In 1935… [Alfonso] Caso and Jorge R. Acosta
were able to define the last period as seen in the ceramics of the site —a period that
represents the establishment of Mixtecs or Mixtec influence in the Valley of Oaxaca…
many data indicate that it is the last occupation of the city’ of Monte Albán (p. 245).
In the eastern division of the Valley of Oaxaca there are two important sites:
Mitla (Figures 176-177) and Yagul. The architecture at Mitla is not completely new in
the area, but combines elements of the Zapotec style with new features that we could
call Mixtec. The principal new elements are the elaborate decoration of stone mosaic
(Figures 178-179), the use of enormous monoliths, and the general arrangements of
rooms (Figure 180). This style has no direct antecedents in Monte Albán or other
Valley sites.
John Paddock (1970a) designates with the name of ‘Mixtec’ not only the people
who spoke the Mixtec language proper, ‘but also some of their neighbors… who
spoke…rather closely related languages and who lived in very similar ways: the
Chocho-Popolocas, Mazatecs, Ichcatecs, Chinantecs, Cuicatecs, Triques, and Amusgos.
The Zapotecs… although neighboring and also related, are excluded; this is a
 407

classification based on historical roles rather than on linguistic or other relationships’ (p.
368).
With the name ‘Monte Albán V’, Paddock refers to ‘the last of a series of
cultural stages as reflected in material remains, primarily ceramic… We shall say, then,
that Monte Albán V is the period that begins with the arrival at any community in the
Valley of Oaxaca of the culture brought by the Mixtecs to Monte Albán in the final
centuries of pre-conquest times… The Mixtec invasion of the Valley of Oaxaca… was
mentioned in several colonial sources’ (p. 368). Paddock (1970b) further holds that
‘from the abandonment of Monte Albán as a functioning city during the tenth century
until the Spanish conquest, the culture of the Valley [of Oaxaca] Zapotecs is called
Monte Albán IV… No metropolis replaced Monte Albán… the Zapotec situation came
to resemble more the Mixtec one, with many small cities subjected only to rather
ephemeral unification… religious power was concentrated at Mitla’ (p. 210).
According to Paddock, ‘both the pyramids of period IV [ca. AD 700-1000] and
the palaces of V [ca. Ad 900-1500] are represented on the top of a heavily fortified hill
outside the city… the hilltop is closed off by massive stone walls… That such a fortress
should become a part of the community and should bear remains only of the late
periods… is more than suggestive of the rise of militarism’ (p. 211).
Like all Mesoamerican peoples, the Mixtecs based their economy and
subsistence on agriculture, complemented by hunting, gathering and fishing (the latter
only in some select areas). Barbro Dahlgren has used ethnohistorical sources, primarily
from the 16th century, to reconstruct pre-Hispanic subsistence activities in the Mixtec
area. Dahlgren (1990) has written that ‘all towns in the Mixtec region… were farmers.
Their basic crop was maize, which always was associated with secondary crops such as
beans and pumpkin, and with chili as well in some places’ (p. 91). In addition to the
plants mentioned above, other crops included seeds like chía (Salvia hispanica) and
huautli (Amaranthus cruentus). It is likely that fruit trees were also cultivated, like the
avocado (Persea sp.), the mamey (Pouteria sapota), the texalcapotl (saramuyo, Annona
squamosa), the xocotl (tejocote, Crataegus mexicana), and the black zapote (Diospyros
nigra). The list of cultivated plants may have also included the nopal (Opuntia sp.) and
maguey (Agave sp.). In Dalghren’s opinion, there is no doubt that the crops cited above
were distributed throughout the Mixtec region, while the hot lands produced cotton, and
along the Pacific coast the cultivation of cacao seems to have been quite important (p.
91).
 408

Hunting was not very important for the general population, since eating meat
was a privilege reserved for the lords and other principales or notable people; the
commoners (macehuales) had no right to go hunting (although poaching was a common
practice). In order to provide themselves with game, the lords organized great hunts that
lasted for two or three days. According to a sixteenth-century source called the Relación
de Justlahuaca, they killed many deer, rabbits, lions, tigers, ‘chickens from the hills’,
and many other animals. The people who were adept at hunting were called monteros
(hill people), and they provided the royal family with meat from wild game (p. 94). The
weapons used for hunting included the bow and arrow, as well as spears that were
hurled by hand or using the atlatl (p. 95).
Gathering wild resources, primarily plants, is also mentioned in early historical
sources. Collecting herbs, greens, gourds and wild fruits was a very important addition
to the native table. When harvests were poor, people resorted to gathering wild plants
from the hills. Another source of food consisted of snakes, lizards and mice. In all
likelihood, a great number of insects were also gathered (p. 96).
In comparison to wild species, domesticated animals were scarce, since only two
species are known to have been domesticated in Mesoamerica: the dog and the turkey. 3
Because of the strict social divisions between macehuales and nobles, social differences
were present even in food consumption, since there were foods common to all members
of society, and others reserved for the elite (p. 97). The latter included game and turkey
meat. The lower classes had to limit their menu to such animals as small rodents and
reptiles.
In some cases, the historical sources mention dogs and cacao, without specifying
who had access to these food items. But Dahlgren says they were exclusive to the lords,
since cacao was too expensive for a macehual, and dogs are identified as food usually
found on the lords’ tables. Although it is possible that macehuales would eat game meat
from time-to-time during special occasions, like religious feasts, still they had to eat
apart from the members of the elite (p. 98).
The historical sources studied by Dahlgren also include information about the
political organization in the Mixtec region at the time of the Spanish conquest and in the
late pre-Hispanic period. Dahlgren tells us that the Mixtec area was divided into many
chiefdoms, each formed by a head town and its immediate region, an arrangement that
3
Recent excavations by Lapham et al. (2016) have discovered a clutch of domesticated turkey eggs used as a ritual offering at the
Mitla Fortress, Oaxaca, dating to the Classic-Early Postclassic period (ca. AD 300-1200). This is one of the earliest evidences of
turkey domestication in Mesoamerica. Turkeys are still important for food in Oaxaca and many other parts of Mexico.
 409

may have consisted of a ceremonial center and numerous surrounding hamlets. At the
time of the Spanish conquest, most settlements were grouped in a series of provinces or
‘princedoms’ of different sizes, while others remained independent. The largest polities
are called ‘kingdoms’ in the chronicles. At the head of each one of these kingdoms was
a city that, because of its great prestige, the lineage of its caciques, its importance as a
religious center, or just because of its wealth or military power, had been able to subject
the neighboring chiefdoms under its military control. In order to understand the political
landscape and the complex sociopolitical arrangements, we have to consider the wars,
alliances and marriages that would increase the kingdom’s power (p. 142). In addition
to these, there was a ‘feudal’ structure, whereby a powerful lord would consent to
defend a small chiefdom in exchange for tribute. It is difficult to know to what extent
the kings of the most powerful cities would exert dominion over the subject chiefdoms.
The principal obligation of the subservient communities would be to provide tribute and
soldiers in case of war. In short, Mixtec kingdoms were a confederacy of chiefdoms,
rather than absolute states (p. 143).
At the head of each town there was a hereditary lord, who was its highest
authority, at least in principle. However, in most cases this absolute power was limited
by the existence of assistants, advisers and regents. Lords would rarely, if ever, decide
on an important judicial matter without first consulting with their advisers, who relied
on a corpus of traditional law (p. 144).
Spores (2003), meanwhile, stated that all ‘matters of government, social control,
and formalized ritual were channeled directly from the ruler through royal and noble
representatives strategically located in populated centers of the kingdom, and through
trained religious practitioners… Each kingdom, though independent, was a component
of a system of political, social, and economic institutions existing throughout the Mixtec
cultural-linguistic-geographical domain’ (p. 255). A Mixtec ruler was responsible for
protecting his or her kingdom(s) and for adjudicating disputes among the nobility. The
ruler also provided paraphernalia for the religious cult and gave food, drink and
entertainment to the nobility when they were officially summoned or gathered at the
royal household. Although governmental activities were overseen by an inner council of
advisors and close kinsmen and the nobility in general, the ruler was in control of the
polity. The populations of the different kingdoms owed the ruler unquestioned
allegiance and obedience, as well as tribute and service. The relationship, though
obviously hierarchical, clearly had its reciprocal elements (p. 255).
 410

The ruler had the support of the nobility, ‘who advised, administered the royal
patrimony and domain, enforced royal orders, and oversaw tribute collection and
performance of services’. The cacique ‘enjoyed special and exclusive dress, food,
housing, and personal property; had monopolies on certain commodities prominent in
the local or regional commercial network; supervised and controlled the religious cult
and its priesthood; and had obedience of the supporting nobility and commoners’ (p.
256).
One final aspect of Mixtec elite culture discussed by Dahlgren (1990) is that of
the adornments worn by the nobility and other prominent members of society, such as
priests. Mixtec caciques or chieftains, and other members of the elite, possessed
treasures of great value and artistic merit, such as jewels made of turquoise, jade, pearls,
gold, amber, coral, shells and other materials. Adornments like these were reserved to
the nobility, while many objects belonged to the cacicazgo (chiefdom) and were
inherited from one chief to another at the time of death. Other luxury items were the
personal property of the lords and were buried in their tombs when they were laid to
rest. Even the craft of jewelry-making was reserved for the lords. While kings and other
distinguished members of society could wear their adornments on a daily basis,
commoners would only use them on special occasions, such as feasts or in the
battlefield (p. 113). The historical sources studied by Dahlgren tell us that Mixtec
caciques used the following adornments made of gold: rings, earrings and lip plugs (of
gold and crystal). The garments used by war captains included a great deal of
featherwork, as well as ear flares, nose plugs, lip plugs, necklaces and bracelets made of
gold or silver, while some also carried bells on their legs (p. 114).
Mixtec craftspeople were highly-esteemed throughout Mesoamerica. Berdan
(2014) holds that ‘the most noted goldsmiths were the Mixtecs from the southern
highlands, living in relatively close proximity to the sources of gold… Some material
objects produced widely, such as ceramics and textiles, had specific cultural imprints
and came to be known by those ethnic associations’ (p. 106). This was all the more
evident ‘where a high degree of decoration or elaboration was involved, as in the
exquisite Cholula polychrome pottery’, on which the Aztec Emperor Moctecuhzoma
Xocoyotzin is said to have dined (p. 106).
According to Caso et al. (1967), there are few examples of Mixtec Postclassic
polychrome ceramics in Monte Albán, such as tripod bowls with snake supports
(Figure 181), and globular-bodied pots with straight, wide necks. In some cases, the
 411

body is decorated with a solar motif (Figure 182) 4 or other symbols. During the
excavation of Tomb 63 at Monte Albán, a clay dish was discovered with a painted motif
in the shape of clouds and gold, while the outside is decorated with a xicalcoliuhqui
(stepped fret) motif in black and orange (Figure 183c). In the same mound where Tomb
63 was discovered, a dish came to light bearing a symbol of clouds, and it probably had
a human figure with a feather headdress in the center (Figure 183d), while another
vessel found in the mound where Tomb 64 is located is adorned with white disks that,
according to the excavators, ‘undoubtedly represent pearls’ (p. 470). The Mixtec pottery
assemblage found at Monte Albán included censers made of clay, which were probably
used in ritual contexts (Figure 184).
The last items reported by Caso et al. are two vases with feline claws, painted in
red (i.e. ocher) and white (p. 471). They come from a tomb discovered at Etla, in the
Valley of Oaxaca. Although they have a matte finish, unlike the shiny Mixtec
polychromes, they are considered members of the same general type (Figure 185).
In discussing the similarities between these pottery items and the ceramics from
Cholula (Puebla), Caso et al. say that ‘the similarity of this polychrome pottery with the
one found in Cholula and other places in Puebla and Tlaxcala, has been always noted…
Evidently both ceramic [types], like the ones from the latest Aztec epoch, have a
common origin and an indubitable similarity with the codices from the Borgia group…
This likeness allows us to affirm the existence of a Mixteca-Puebla style, starting with
the Toltec period and extending up to the Conquest’ (p. 471).
Caso et al. (1967) were among the first archaeologists to define the Mixtec
pottery assemblage (as found at Monte Albán) according to a typological scheme that
still stands today. A more recent study by Feinman (2018) brings the information on
pottery chronology up to date. In his study of Postclassic wares at the Valley of Oaxaca
(Monte Albán’s phase V, ca. AD 900-1500), Feinman stated that
his goal was ‘to place broadly distributed ceramic traditions for the Valley of Oaxaca in
the region’s shifting political context. Why did shifts in certain widely shared pottery
traditions vary over time?’ (p. 305). The study area in pre-Hispanic times ‘was inhabited
by complex societies that varied in scale, hierarchical complexity, and modes of
interconnection over millennia. Internal and external networks and affiliations… were

4
The vessel illustrated in Figure 182 is interesting because when excavated it held inside what appears to be the tool assemblage of
an artisan who made carved bones. The tools consisted of four copper chisels and a shell awl. The pot also contained fragments of
carved bone (presumably manufactured by the owner of the tools in question) (Caso et al. 1967:470).
 412

not stable’ (p. 305). Feinman set out to analyze the shifts in the regional pottery
tradition in the context of great political and economic changes, and discovered
a significant change in the Late Postclassic period ceramic complex: ‘The addition of
more highly decorated vessel variants, including polychromes… red-on-creams,
graphite-on-orange painted forms… as well as bowls with effigy supports’ (p. 324).
During the Late Postclassic period, the distributions of these decorated vessel varieties
were not uniform across the Valley of Oaxaca. This may indicate ‘that the elites in
different parts of the region may have participated in networks and forged alliances with
different contacts beyond the valley… Nevertheless, the great majority of these
decorated wares were produced locally’ (p. 324).
Feinman also discovered that the transition to the Late Postclassic ceramic
complex in the study area ‘involved the advent of new decorated vessel varieties, such
as polychromes which likely reflects more open networks of interaction outside the
valley’. The period under discussion ‘was a time of rapid population growth, perhaps
fostered by a high level of commercialization across Mesoamerica, including Oaxaca’
(p. 326).
The persistence of many social and cultural factors from earlier times, related to
political economy, regional and extra-regional social networks, demographic changes
and basic domestic considerations, all helped to ‘shape the ceramic complexes of the
pre-Hispanic Valley of Oaxaca pottery tradition… including… the crafting of
polychrome vessels in a style shared across highland Mexico’ (p. 327).
In their discussion of archaeological data from the Monte Albán V phase in the
Valley of Oaxaca (ca. AD 950-1530), Marcus and Flannery (2003) characterize this
period as one of ‘Balkanization’, a term used ‘to refer to the division of a region into
numerous small, mutually hostile, states. The archaeological record reveals no single,
dominant center that could have integrated either the Zapotec or Mixtec areas, while the
evidence of fortification is widespread. In addition to field data, ‘both the Postclassic
codices and the ethnohistoric documents describe frequent military conflicts…
interrupted by ephemeral truces brought about through royal marriage or military
alliance’ (p. 217).
In spite of the constant aggression between these relatively small, competitive
states, the Late Postclassic period also had aspects of genuine international relations, as
seen in ceramic complexes that became extremely widespread, with some wares
appearing across many ethnic boundaries.
 413

The Mixtec expansion was encouraged, in part, by the fall of Tula (ca. AD
1160), an event that set in motion many of the processes discussed here. Marcus and
Flannery point out that ‘the collapse of the Toltec permitted a buildup of power in the
Mixteca which was to have profound cultural, political, and military consequences for
southern Mexico… many of the Mixtec kings underscored their royalty by claiming
descent from the lords of Tula’ (p. 218).
In his discussion of Monte Albán in the Postclassic period, Blanton (2003) has
said that, although the city had considerably reduced its size relative to its maximum
population (in Period IIIb), Monte Albán was still an important community in Period V,
displaying one of the largest concentrations of pottery of this time. Blanton found
‘substantial settlement around the base of Monte Albán Period V… The core of Period
V settlement is located surrounding… the most highly accessible point in the city’s
ancient road system… access to major roads were more important considerations for the
population of Monte Albán in Period V than had been true earlier, which in turn
suggests a more commercial orientation for the city during the Late Postclassic’ (p.
281). In conclusion, Blanton thought that during the Late Postclassic Monte Albán was
still a very important place, probably a small commercial center with sacred attributes,
where people still deposited offerings and occasionally buried their dead, but it was no
longer the center of a regional kingdom as it had been in the past.
In addition to elite ceramics, turquoise was one of the most exalted materials for
craftsmanship and elite consumption in the Mixtec area. This was a common feature
throughout Mesoamerica, as we have seen in previous chapters. Berdan (2016) holds
that turquoise became common in Mesoamerica at the beginning of the Postclassic
period (ca. AD 950-1150), and its importance increased during the Late Postclassic (ca.
AD 1350-1521), coinciding with the period of Aztec hegemony over most of central
Mexico. During this time, a great number of ornaments and other objects were
manufactured from turquoise for the members of the elite, as well as the priests and
gods: ‘Lip plugs, nose plugs, ear flares, necklaces, bracelets, pectorals, masks, helmets,
shields and disks, mirrors, sacrificial knives, decorated skulls, animal figures, and…
royal diadems’ (p. 74). We also know that turquoise (perhaps in mosaic form) was
attached to items of featherwork, and perhaps to royal capes as well (p. 75).
Many Mesoamerican peoples of the Postclassic, such as ‘Toltecs, Aztecs,
Mixtecs, and others, needed objects decorated with turquoise, or the greenstones in
bulk, but they faced an insurmountable problem: the apparent absence of turquoise
 414

deposits in the territory of nuclear Mesoamerica’. Berdan thinks that both finished
objects and raw materials (i.e. turquoise and other green stones) ‘circulated along mixed
channels of tribute, exchange, market and as gifts’ (p. 79). In Berdan’s opinion, some of
the hypothetical routes suggest that ‘we may have to consider the possible existence of
turquoise mines that are yet to be discovered within the borders of Mesoamerica’ (p.
79). 5
According to Davide Domenici (2016:45), archaeological and ethnohistorical
data suggest that some caves in the Mixtec region were used for multiple ends, such as
human burials and deposition of offerings, like green stone mosaics. The turquoise
mosaics from the Oaxaca-Puebla region are quite varied, but most share iconographic
traits that seem to relate to mythical events and ideas connected with rain and fertility.
For that reason, green stones were deposited in the caves as offerings to the underworld.
Meanwhile Emiliano Melgar Tisoc (2016), who took part in the excavations of
the Aztec Templo Mayor (main temple) at Tenochtitlan, reports that many items of true
turquoise were found together with other kinds of blue-green stones, such as
chrysocolla, amazonite, malachite and azurite. These minerals have been called ‘cultural
turquoise’, and may have been perceived as the same stone in the pre-Hispanic native
classification system, or at least were used as substitutes or homonyms of what we
would consider ‘real’ turquoise.
Several offerings excavated in the Main Temple ‘included beads and mosaics
composed of thousands of blue-colored tesserae [small blocks of cut stone] that have
been described as turquoise. The geological origin of these rocks is alien to the Basin of
Mexico, and even to Mesoamerica, but this does not mean that all objects made of this
exotic material were manufactured in foreign lands’ (p. 68). Integral studies of the
objects made of turquoise in the Templo Mayor have provided new information about
the origin and distribution of these blue-green minerals, which probably arrived at the
Aztec capital through tribute, trade and as war trophies.
Gold was second only to turquoise and other green stones in the Mesoamerican
value system, and the Mixtecs were the most skilled goldsmiths in the whole of the
Mesoamerican ecumene. According to Ruvalcaba et al. (2009), some 80% of the
existing Mesoamerican gold artifacts belong to the Mixtec tradition. The collections of

5
Thibodeau et al. (2018) examined the geological evidence for turquoise procurement and the sources from which many Aztec and
Mixtec samples were derived, coming to the conclusion that ‘it is… possible that the Aztecs and Mixtecs acquired turquoise from…
western or central Mexico’ rather than the US Southwest (p. 6). However, Thibodeau et al. do not offer any data to back up this
assumption, so the northern regions beyond the Mesoamerican frontier are still the best candidates for turquoise procurement.
 415

pre-Hispanic gold in the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, for example,
include pendants, lip plugs, zoomorphic pieces, necklaces, rings and ear ornaments,
bells, and foils, etcetera. Among the most important gold artifacts are the ones from the
tombs of Zaachila, Oaxaca, but ‘the most outstanding golden objects ever found in
Mesoamerica come from Monte Albán. In 1934, Caso and others excavated Tomb 7,
which contained burials from the Mixtec culture. This tomb yielded one of the richest
assemblages of metal artifacts ever excavated in Mesoamerica. The items in the
funerary offerings included: ‘Green stones, turquoises, shells, [carved] bones, as well as
gold and silver’ (p. 5). 6
In his report of the excavation of Tomb 7, Caso (1969) states that pectorals are
among the most precious objects found in this tomb. These objects teach us a good deal
about ancient Mixtec culture, especially its technical and artistic achievements, and also
about the rich imagination of the Mixtec artisans, who exercised precious attention to
detail when making their highly-valued crafts. Ten pectorals were found inside Tomb 7,
all showing mythical and calendrical representations from the ancient Mixtecs. These
pectorals could have been used as unique adornments or as part of a more elaborate
necklace. In Caso’s opinion, ‘the most beautiful of the pectorals, and also the most
important because of the information it provides, is item number 26 in [the excavation
catalog]. It is 115 mm wide, 2 mm thick, and weighs 112 grams. The pectoral shows a
human face with a snake or tiger helmet, and the lower part of the face is covered with a
skeletal mask’ (p. 83) (Figure 186). The lower part of the pectoral consists of two
squares; the one on the left is decorated with a face of Cocijo (i.e. the Mixtec version of
Tlaloc, the Nahua rain deity), wearing a mask with serpent attributes. On the right
square there is a year sign, formed by a solar ray and a turquoise symbol (p. 85).
There was a close and intimate relationship between Mixtec and Aztec artisans,
according to Dorothy Hosler (2017), who estimates that 95 percent of the gold, silver
and copper objects captured by the Spaniards from the Aztecs were eventually melted
down into bullion. Among the Aztecs, metal objects were used in public display, as well
as for myriad other sumptuary and utilitarian functions.
In the region of modern Oaxaca, metals such as gold and copper-gold and
copper-silver-gold alloys were crafted ‘into intricate and complex body ornaments’,

6
Another important collection of Mixtec metal art objects comes from the port city of Veracruz, where a fisherman found a
treasure trove reportedly from a sunken ship from the Colonial era. The collection consists of some forty items, including ‘beautiful
pendants… bracelets, fully decorated beads, zoomorphic pieces, disks, as well as two ingots’ (Ruvalcaba et al. 2009:5).
 416

while metalsmiths ‘also made small implements and tools and mushroom-shaped axe
moneys… from copper and copper-arsenic bronze’ (p. 320). There is strong evidence
indicating that, ‘by about AD 1150 or 1200, some aspects of the metallurgical know-
how responsible for the technology that developed in both western Mexico and Oaxaca
had disseminated throughout Mesoamerica’ (p. 320). In discussing the ore sources for
metal from the Aztec Templo Mayor, Hosler says that ‘the Basin of Mexico and its
immediate environs lack metallic ore minerals’, while ‘Oaxaca is rich in deposits of
gold, although gold was available in other areas’ (p. 321).
Returning to Monte Albán, we read in the account written by Marcus (2003)
about some of the finest items found in Tomb 7, that ‘during the Late Postclassic Monte
Albán was a nucleated settlement with a population estimated at 4,050 to 8,100 persons.
On its southern flank lay a less densely nucleated settlement with an estimated 980-
1,960 persons… the area… contains numerous Monte Albán V tombs and burials’ (p.
282). No burial, however, matched the extraordinary richness of Tomb 7. This tomb had
originally been constructed by the Zapotecs of the Classic period; later it was
discovered and reused during Monte Albán V. At least nine skeletons were placed in the
tomb, the main personage being a male of approximately 55 years of age with cranial
deformation and filed teeth.
The burials in Tomb 7 were accompanied by more than 500 precious items,
including pectorals made of gold, silver and gold-silver alloys. There was a trophy skull
covered with a turquoise mosaic and many gold beads. Jade and gold fan handles, gold
and silver tweezers, rings and bells were also found as part of the funerary assemblage.
Lip plugs made of jade and gold adorned the skeletons, while turquoise beads covered
the floor of the tomb. Earspools made of obsidian had been polished so thin that one
could read newsprint through them. The list of precious offerings in the tomb also
includes necklaces of gold, silver, amber, jet, coral, pearl and shell, as well as more than
a dozen bones with carvings in the ‘codex style’ (p. 283).
In her discussion of the carved bones from Tomb 7, Marcus says that the origins
of the royal ancestors of the Mixtec were linked to mythical places, dates and events,
sometimes represented in codices and sometimes on carved bones. A good number of
carved bones were found in Tomb 7, though only 34 bore inscriptions or pictorial
scenes. The majority of the bones were from jaguars, while others were from eagles.
Caso thought that the carved bones from Tomb 7 indicated that the occupants of
the tomb were ethnically Mixtec, since the writing on them differed substantially from
 417

both Zapotec and Aztec script. Some of the bones in Tomb 7 bear many similarities to
elements and places illustrated in the Mixtec codices (Figure 187a), and they may
represent records of marriage, conquest and royal descent. Others are decorated with a
list of days of the 260-day Mesoamerican calendar in consecutive order (Figure187b),
while another type usually shows repetitive motifs, whose meaning has yet to be
deciphered (Figure 187c) (p. 285).
Among the most remarkable creations of Mesoamerican civilization are the
codices, painted manuscripts that recorded the greatest cultural achievements in the
realms of religion, history, genealogy, politics, mathematics and astrology, as well as
esoteric knowledge that only a few people could understand. Most native documents,
however, did not survive the Spanish conquest and the zeal of its priests and
missionaries. Among the few codices that have reached us, the ones produced by the
Mixtecs are the best examples of Mesoamerican art and writing.
Caso spent a good part of his professional career studying the Mixtec codices,
and his magnum opus: Reyes y reinos de la Mixteca, was published posthumously in
1977. There, Caso (1979) argued that the historical role of the Mixtec codices lay
primarily in the fact that the Mixtec scribes were able to use a glyphic system –part
iconographic, part phonetic– that allowed them to record the most important events in
which their princes and lords were involved. Secondly, the Mixtecs (as well as many
other Mesoamerican cultures) used a system of time computation that was formalized
and thus made it possible to make an exact recording of the point in time when a given
event took place, indicating the year and the day. We do not know for sure if they used
signs for the month as well, but this is very likely. Thirdly, the historical value of
Mixtec codices is reinforced by the fact that in several of them we find the same event
in independent narratives, sometimes written in a different script but within the general
writing system of the Mixtec area and perhaps neighboring regions as well. Finally, the
historical value of the codices is reaffirmed by the fact that the Mixtec writing system
outlived the Spanish conquest, so we have native historical documents dealing with
historical events written in both Mixtec and Spanish characters (p. 12).
Caso discovered that Mixtec writing apparently was derived from other forms of
writing pertaining to older time horizons. Examples of the Mixtec script are more
abundant in the ‘Toltec Horizon’ (i.e. Early Postclassic), and in the culture called
Mixteca-Puebla, to which the majority of the extant documents belong. Most Mixtec
codices preserved today have a primarily genealogical orientation. They mention the
 418

name and nickname of the king or queen, the year of her/his birth, who their parents
were and where they ruled, and sometimes the date of their marriage. Also mentioned
were the king’s brothers and sisters, sometimes also identifying who they married and
their spouses’ places of origin. The king’s wives are listed as well, naming the children
produced by each one and indicating the identity and place of origin of their parents.
Frequently, the accounts include the feats performed by the king in question, and the
day and year of his death. In Caso’s opinion (1979), other codices are not merely
genealogical, but also historical in the sense that they narrate the life of one or several
kings (Figure 188), while still others describe events such as peregrinations. A final
category would be ritual codices (p. 13).
Among Caso’s beliefs regarding the script he found in the codices and other
indigenous works is that it would be impossible to narrate a history or a genealogy
spanning some eight centuries without having a system of calendrical calculation that is
highly-formalized and used by a wide number of peoples. Such was the case of the
Mixtecs, since they inherited a system of notation from previous cultures. In fact, the
basic features of such a system of writing and calendrical notation were shared by most
Mesoamerican cultures, and they had existed since the Formative period (p. 14).
Another eminent student of Mexican painted books was Seler (1963), who called
the Codex Borgia ‘the alpha and omega of the priestly science of Mesoamerican
peoples’. It is the tonalpohuali, the ‘book of days’ and their influence on fate (Figure
189). Marcus (1992), meanwhile, attempts to understand Mesoamerican scripts from an
anthropological and historical perspective, telling us that since all Mesoamerican
codices were written in the context of state-level societies, they portray not just the
worldview of the ruling elites, but also a hegemonic political ideology. With these ideas
in mind, Marcus has described Mesoamerican writing systems as ‘propaganda, myth,
and history’. According to Marcus, we usually think of myth ‘as a romantic and ancient
falsehood’, while history is composed of ‘true events set in a chronological framework;
and propaganda… [is] a form of deliberate mind-control’ (p. 12).
Marcus proposed a theory of Mesoamerican writing that ‘grows naturally out of
the anthropological theory on chiefdoms and early states… both rank societies and
stratified societies are characterized by intense competition for positions of leadership’
(p. 12). Chiefdoms usually experience a high level of raiding among villages, as well as
competition between chiefs, while ‘early states were characterized by equally bitter
conflicts over accession to the throne, with political assassination and even warfare...
 419

Male rulers tried to marry the highest-ranking women they could… as among the
Egyptians, Hawaiians, or Mixtec’ (p. 12). The theory put forth by Marcus states that
‘Mesoamerican writing was both a tool and a by-product of this competition for prestige
and leadership positions… Mesoamerican rulers used hieroglyphic inscriptions not only
to identify their vanquished rivals, but also to define the limits of their political territory
and the conquered places paying tribute to them’ (pp. 15-16). Writing was also used by
Mesoamerican elites ‘to establish the importance of their royal ancestors, their
genealogical right to rule, [and] the date of their inauguration… they [also] re-wrote
history to their advantage… [and] claimed descent from, or a relationship to, mythical
personages’ (p. 16). All the topics outlined above ‘relate directly or indirectly to one
theme: propaganda used to help a particular chief or king obtain an important leadership
position, hold on to that position, or increase the prestige of his position relative to
others’ (p. 16).
Postclassic Mesoamerican writing, including codices from the Mixtec area and
other parts of the ecumene (the few surviving examples come from the Mixtec, Aztec
and Maya cultures), reaffirmed the links that the nobles were supposed to have with
deities and other mythical beings, as well as the descent of elite members from
distinguished ancestors, their ability to embark on military action against enemies, and
many other aspects of rulership and legitimation. Marcus states that ‘only an awareness
that propaganda, myth, and history were inseparably combined in their inscriptions will
bring us close to an understanding of how these societies worked’ (p. 16).
We pointed out earlier that the political map in the Mesoamerican ecumene
during the Late Postclassic was characterized by fragmentation and hegemonic relations
among independent polities. Mary Hodge (1984) studied five Aztec city-states, and her
findings shed light on other regions of Mesoamerica beyond the Aztec realm, including
the Mixtec kingdoms. Hodge found that ‘the imperial tribute hierarchy was highly
centralized, and quite different from the administrative hierarchy’. She also
demonstrates that ‘the more hierarchically-organized an area was prior to incorporation
in the Aztec empire, the less the bureaucratic control imposed from above. For the most
part, these city-states retained a surprising degree of political, cultural and religious
autonomy even after being incorporated into the Aztec Empire’ (Hodge 1984: v).
Earlier, we briefly mentioned Monte Albán and Mitla, two examples of
Postclassic state-level political organization in Oaxaca. A third example comes from
southern Oaxaca: the independent Mixtec kingdom of Tututepec (Figure 190). Marc
 420

Levine (2017) wrote that ‘Aztec imperial expansion in Oaxaca led to the establishment
of tributary provinces… Imperial pursuits to the south, however, were thwarted by
Tututepec, the largest and most powerful Mixtec polity of the Late Postclassic’ (p. 509).
According to Levine, Tututepec conquered an extensive territory in southern
Oaxaca during AD 1100-1522 (Figure 191). The conquered lands gave that kingdom
access to excellent farmland, in addition to ‘a bounty of resources associated with
nearby rivers, estuaries, marshes, lagoons, and the sea. These resources included
valuable lowland trade goods, such as high-quality sea salt, dried fish, dyes, cotton,
feathers, cacao, and animal pelts (e.g. jaguar)’ (p. 509). Tututepec extracted many
different resources from vassal communities located along the coast and beyond,
bringing goods to the capital and also fostering trade with highland centers, such as
Mitla. Tututepec appears to have been a regional port of trade ‘that served as the critical
southern node of a lucrative highland-lowland Mixtec trade circuit’ (pp. 509-510).
In discussing Tututepec’s sociopolitical organization, Levine says that at the
time of the first Spanish incursion into the region, Tututepec controlled a tributary
kingdom ‘covering 25,000 km2 of southern Oaxaca… Although [the]… core territory
was the coastal region… they regularly raided and warred with polities throughout
Oaxaca… Tututepec’s expansion into central and northern Oaxaca in the early sixteenth
century was impeded by the Aztecs, who competed for control of these same tributary
communities’ (p. 513). Tututepec’s eastward expansion was stopped by its rivals in the
Isthmus of Tehuantepec, who were able to fight off the Aztecs for a while, but
eventually joined with the Aztec Empire. Tututepec’s expansion to the west, on the
other hand, almost reached the present border with the state of Guerrero. It is important
to point out that ‘Tututepec’s territorial boundaries, like those of the Aztecs, were not
entirely contiguous and continually ebbed and flowed through time with changing
political circumstances. The codices provide a record of… early conquests… In the
Codex Nuttall, [for instance,] more than 20 toponyms are pierced with a spear or dart,
which signifies their conquest by Tututepec and conversion into tributaries’ (p. 513).
Regarding Tututepec’s strategies of political control, Levine suggests a
‘combination of both indirect and direct modalities of control… Following the conquest
of a given community, local nobles could retain leadership roles but only at the
discretion of the lords of Tututepec… [who] sent officials to serve as tribute collectors
and judges, yet they selected a governor from among the local nobility… Tututepec
 421

itself… likely conserved many features of the… smaller highland Mixtec city-states’ (p.
514).
Textile production was of critical importance to the local economy and an
outstanding component of Tututepec’s long-distance trade. Dozens of ceramic spindle
whorls were excavated at residences. Whorls are distributed broadly across Tututepec’s
surface, indicating that spinning was a common activity in the Postclassic period.
Obsidian represented close to 100% of Tututepec’s household chipped-stone
assemblage. Most of this material came from Pico de Orizaba and Pachuca, and was
probably acquired in the central marketplace. In this city, households were not self-
sufficient, but had to rely on exchange to obtain both everyday items like obsidian and
social valuables. Local items included utilitarian and decorated pottery, ground-stone
axes and ceramic figurines, while imported materials consisted of obsidian, grinding
stones and copper tools.
Tututepec’s role as a regional trade center may have offered new economic
opportunities to its local commoners. They appear to have been relatively wealthy,
enjoying access to a wide range of social valuables, including imported obsidian, copper
bells and relatively high quantities of Mixteca-Puebla polychrome pottery.
Tututepec’s rulers obtained tribute from vassal communities and also received
taxes from the local populace, who provided an array of both commodities (e.g. corn,
firewood, clothing) and social valuables (e.g. cacao, feathers, gold). The commoners’
labor payments ‘were allocated to service royal households or to work their fields and
other land holdings, such as cacao orchards, salt works, and fish ponds’ (p. 516).
Jamie Forde (2016) first tells us that ‘Tututepec was able to enlist vast numbers
of its subjects in warfare and other state projects’, before asking how this was possible;
that is, how the elites succeeded in compelling their subjects to participate in such
projects (p. 389). Forde offers an explanation in which ‘aspects of political and ritual
ideology were shared among both elites and commoners… fostering a social cohesion
that crosscut inequalities in wealth and status, contributing to the growth and success of
the [state]… such cohesion would have been tenuous, contingent upon the negotiation
of power relationships in daily practice’ (p. 389). The hegemonic power of the lords
was legitimized in part by means of a complex iconography, including monumental
stone sculptures (Figure 192). In order to examine how this negotiation took place in
daily life at Tututepec, Forde studied polychrome ceramics recovered from excavations
of commoner residences at the site. According to Forde, ‘painted symbols provide
 422

windows into some of the salient themes of this ideology’ (p. 390), while ‘both
archaeological and ethnohistorical data strongly indicate that commoners of Tututepec
principally acquired polychrome ceramics via market exchange’ (p. 398). Forde’s study
further showed that ‘it is quite probable that commoners had a diverse array of
polychrome ceramics available to them at markets, and thus a considerable degree of
choice in selecting vessels that they found most attractive’ (p. 399). Forde concluded
that ‘the salient themes of ideology expressed in this pottery were compatible with those
of the Tututepec state… this is suggestive of an inclusive ideology that crosscut social
status which may have helped facilitate the participation of commoners in the state
projects, contributing to the success of the kingdom’ (p. 400).
Meanwhile, Levine et al. (2015) studied Tututepec’s polychrome pottery and its
role in household ritual. Polychromes were evenly-distributed across the surface at
Tututepec, suggesting that many members of society had regular and sustained access to
these richly-painted vessels. The great quantity and ubiquity of polychrome pieces, as
well as the fact that they were made locally and by multiple producers, suggests that
they were probably distributed through market exchange. This led the authors to
reconsider the role of Mixteca-Puebla polychrome vessels in social practices. These pots
bearing polychrome decorations have traditionally been regarded as specialized items
reserved for ritual feasts and gift exchange among high-status nobles and rulers. In this
study, however, Levine et al. discuss evidence for quite a different context of use for
polychromes, namely the household rituals of the commoner class.
In the next section, I will discuss the other main actor in our story: the
Postclassic state of Cholula, Puebla, and its culture.

The City of Cholula and its Hinterland. Cholula is located some 277 km northwest of
Monte Albán as the crow flies (ca. 354 km on the modern highway). This city is one of
the greatest of all Mesoamerican capitals that flourished during the Postclassic period.
Cholula’s history, however, begins well before the Postclassic. We know that by the
Late Formative period (ca. 150 BC), if not before, there are signs of human activity at
the site (Plunket and Uruñuela 1998). During the Classic period in Mesoamerica,‘one of
the most useful materials to study long-distance exchange is Thin Orange pottery, which
comes from southern Puebla and was apparently traded by the Teotihuacanos’ (p. 101).
Plunket and Uruñuela carried out an analysis of this type of pottery, striving to define
the role played by the Cholula area in the Teotihuacan economic sphere. According to
 423

these authors, the first known examples of Thin Orange ware come from an excavated
household with talud-tablero architecture in western Puebla state, dating to the first
century AD (p. 101).

Geoffrey McCafferty (1996a) recounts how Cholula grew during the Formative
period from a small lakeside hamlet to a sprawling regional center with a ceremonial
precinct. Initial settlement clustered around the shore of a swampy lake, presumably to
take advantage of the rich aquatic environment (p. 302). Cholula became an outstanding
religious center during the Classic period, as the Great Pyramid erected there ‘went
through three major construction stages until it measured 350 m per side and 66 m in
height… Cultural remains of the city cover about 4 km2, though most of this area is
beneath later Postclassic and Historic occupations. Several additional pyramidal
mounds stand out like islands in a sea of modern development’ (p. 304).
McCafferty regards the transition between the Classic and Postclassic periods as
the most controversial stage in Cholula’s history, in part because interpretations have
changed through time. It has been suggested that Cholula was occupied continuously,
with the Great Pyramid abandoned at the end of the Early Postclassic period but,
allegedly, there is evidence that the pyramid, and perhaps the entire city, were
abandoned at the end of the Classic period. McCafferty, however, has argued that
Cholula was not abandoned, and that the Great Pyramid continued as a ceremonial zone
at least into the Early Postclassic period (p. 309).

Among the archaeological materials that have been used to understand culture
change at Cholula, there is a variety of Thin Orange ware called ‘coarse’, which
abounds in Teotihuacan levels at Cholula, while Thin Orange itself is present from the
Cholula II phase (ca. AD 200-350) up until Cholula IV (ca. AD 700-800) (Plunket and
Uruñuela 1998:106). The analysis of extant information on Cholula ceramics and the
contexts where it was found led Plunket and Uruñuela to conclude that ‘there are
differences in the distribution of the materials linked to interaction between
Teotihuacan, Cholula, and surrounding sites… We have quantified this difference
specifically for Thin Orange in order to show that this pottery (which supposedly
reflects the intensity of relations with Teotihuacan) is scarcer at Cholula’ even than at
less important sites’ (p. 109). The reason for the dearth of Thin Orange at Cholula may
have to do with chronology, since ‘the majority of materials with Teotihuacan style
 424

belong to the beginning of the Classic, and the later features were not evident at
Cholula… Cholula was occupied by Teotihuacanos during the first centuries of the
Classic… to this is owed the great similarity between pottery materials from both sites’
(p. 109).

In light of all the above information, the authors conclude that ‘the strong links
between Teotihuacan and Cholula in the Early Classic are broken during the Middle
Classic… the lack of clear diagnostic [traits] common to Late Xolalpan [ca. AD 450] at
Cholula, while they are relatively abundant in neighboring areas…’ leads them to think
that ‘during these times Cholula was barred from the systems of interaction through
which Teotihuacan materials traveled, or else Cholula simply was not a relevant center
any more’ (p. 112). Cowgill (2017) has voiced a similar opinion: ‘Probably by 450 or
500 CE the Teotihuacan polity seems to have begun a gradual decline. There are hints
that… materials from outside the Basin of Mexico, such as Thin Orange hemispherical
bowls… were becoming less easily available’ (p. 25). According to the scenario
presented here, it is likely that ‘Cholula, at least for some time, ceased being a power
center in the region, and it did not reclaim its position until after Teotihuacan’s
downfall’ (Plunket and Uruñuela 1998:112).

Kenneth Hirth (2013a) studied Cholula’s hinterland during the Classic period.
Hirth’s excavations at the town of San Buenaventura Nealtican, in the Tetimpa region
on the western edge of the Valley of Puebla, discovered that the people of ancient
Cholula consumed an array of local goods produced in many rural communities in the
city’s surrounding hinterland. There are differences in the artifact assemblages,
indicating that Nealtican was not an economic or ideological ‘blueprint’ of what was
available or practiced in Cholula. The excavations there found a greater array of imports
than have been reported at Cholula, and numerous features of Nealtican’s ceramic
service ware and its domestic ritual assemblages more closely resemble those found at
distant Teotihuacan than they do the nearby regional center of Cholula.
One reason for this situation may be the location of the Tetimpa region, which
borders the communication route leading west into the Basin of Mexico. Another reason
may be a longstanding tradition of cultural contacts between Teotihuacan and the
societies that lived in the Puebla-Tlaxcala region. Hirth regards as quite remarkable that,
although Cholula probably had the largest pyramid in the whole of Central Mexico by
 425

the end of the Classic period, it did not dominate regional economic and distribution
networks in the Valley of Puebla. Clearly, the role of Cholula in Central Mexican
prehistory remains an enigma that will only be solved with additional research both in
the city itself and throughout its surrounding hinterland.7

During the Late Postclassic, just before the Spaniards appeared on the scene and
destroyed much of Cholula, this ancient city ‘was the capital of an 800 km2 kingdom
with 49 subject communities’ (Plunket and Uruñuela 2017:523). We saw above that
Cholula traced its history back to the Formative period; later ‘the population coalesced
into an important urban center… Then, after 500 years of affluence, in the seventh
century AD, Cholula… suffered an important demographic decline. During the Early
Postclassic, however, Cholula was revitalized… by the Nahuatl-speaking Tolteca-
Chichimeca who usurped political power… after the downfall of Tula’ (p. 523).

This great city played an outstanding regional role as a cultural and political
center. In fact, ‘sixteenth-century sources… stress the fact that nobles from surrounding
areas came to the city to receive the emblems of rulership and then be escorted back to
their homelands by representatives of Cholula’s two high priests in order to leave no
doubt that they were now the legitimate lords of their kingdoms’ (pp. 523-524).

Cholula’s revitalization in the ninth century was signaled by ‘the partial

restoration of its massive Classic-period Great Pyramid, the… seat of ancient authority
linked to the Teotihuacan world order’. Later, ‘the conquering Tolteca-Chichimeca…
dedicated their shrine to the cult of Quetzalcoatl. This new temple was said to have
housed the relics’ of that deity (p. 524).

After the passage of many centuries, at present ‘there are few visible remains of
Postclassic [Cholula] or of the first century of colonial rule. The Spaniards sacked and
burned the city, and… its temples were subsequently razed or left to decay… in 1519
the urban core and its surrounding area had about 40,000 households, but by 1581, only
9,000 of these had survived the plagues of the late 1540s’ (p. 525). One of the accounts
about Cholula in the sixteenth century was penned by Hernán Cortés himself, who
described the city and its polity as ‘an independent kingdom governed by a… council

7
Mountjoy (1987) excavated at Cerro Zapotecas, a site in Cholula’s present urban area. There he found evidence of the arrival of
the Olmeca-Xicalanca from the Gulf Coast by AD 650. This coincides with the collapse of Teotihuacan, ending the Classic-period
development at Cholula.
 426

rather than a single supreme ruler. These noblemen, referred to as caciques or

“captains”… elected a principal cacique or “captain general”… who seems to have been
charged with the administration of the city’s internal affairs’ (p. 525). According to the
first accounts written by the Spaniards, Cholula ‘was a wealthy cosmopolitan
community that attracted long-distance trade, pilgrims, and foreign royalty… Cholula’s
market… was one of the most important venues for buying and selling in central
Mexico… Wealthy merchants… were said to be the greatest traders of the highlands,
traveling up to 1,500 km to bring back cacao, feathers, shells, bitumen, obsidian, and
other commodities’ (p. 527). The market was also the locale where one could purchase
or trade ‘local products like elaborately painted codex-style pottery, ritual paraphernalia,
jewelry, featherwork, elegant clothing made from spun rabbit fur, fine embroidery,
tools, weapons, pulque, cochineal, rope, and shoes. The city’s merchants used cacao
beans as their medium of exchange and were able to amass huge quantities of them
during a day’s work’ (p. 527).

Cholula was indeed a quintessential trade emporium, but no less important was
its role as a sacred city. Its ‘status as a holy city… rested partially on its association with
Teotihuacan’s legacy, a privileged heritage that underpinned its right to confirm kings
and rulers… The iconic symbol of the city [i.e. the Great Pyramid] stood as a constant
reminder of that illustrious history, while the relics stored in the Postclassic temple of
Quetzalcoatl established its authority among the kingdoms of the Central Highlands and
beyond’ (p. 527). The Great Pyramid (Figure 193) was not destroyed during the final
calamity of the Spanish conquest. It still stands today as a mute witness, although at its
top now sits a Catholic church as a reminder of the new religious and political reality.

Marquina (1970) studied Cholula’s Great Pyramid, concluding that this is the
monument of greatest dimensions in all of Mesoamerica, if not the New World: ‘Its
exterior barely conveys the fact that it is a man-made construction, since at first sight it
appears to be a… natural eminence on whose top is the Sanctuary of Our Lady of
Remedies’ (p. 31). Cortés and Bernal Díaz del Castillo were among the first Spanish
conquistadors to see Cholula’s Great Pyramid. However, they do not mention the
pyramid in their accounts, which shows that they did not realize that it was a building
made by the local people (or rather their Classic-period ancestors). Instead, Spanish
writers simply mentioned the pyramid that was being used at the time of their arrival,
 427

which was located in the spot where the Franciscan Convent and the Church of Saint
Gabriel were built after the Conquest (p. 31).
McCafferty (2001) regards Cholula’s Great Pyramid as the most notable
archaeological feature of the ancient city: ‘This huge monument was known in pre-
Hispanic times as Tlachihualtepetl, or “man-made mountain”. The Great Pyramid has
been the subject of archaeological research for more than one hundred years. It was
built in a series of four major construction stages over a period of 1700 years (ca. 500
BCE to 1200 CE)’ (p. 2). Extensive excavations focused on exposing architectural
remains and were not at all successful in resolving many fundamental questions
concerning Cholula’s culture history. Therefore, interpretations of the settlement history
are somewhat confused and may even appear contradictory.
McCafferty (1996b) wrote that the archaeologists from the Proyecto Cholula
(i.e. Marquina [editor] 1970) argued that the Great Pyramid was abandoned at the end of
the Classic period. Several possible reasons for the hiatus were suggested, including
volcanic eruptions, flooding and a broad social upheaval related to the ‘collapse’ of
other Classic-period centers elsewhere in Mesoamerica. McCafferty argues that the
construction history of the Great Pyramid was both more complex and of longer
duration than most scholars had thought (Figure 194). One of the main problems
concerning the Great Pyramid is the question of when, and to what extent, it was
abandoned. In McCafferty’s opinion, the traditional interpretation is that the pyramid
was abandoned at the end of the Classic period, but archaeological excavations at
Cholula contradict this interpretation, suggesting instead a gradual transition between
Classic and Postclassic material assemblages, followed by an extensive occupation
during the Early Postclassic period.
Florence Muller (1970) has discussed the ceramic assemblage of pre-Hispanic
Cholula (Figures 195a and 195b). The chronological framework of the Cholula
Archaeological Project (begun in 1966) included the following horizons: the Preclassic,
Classic, Postclassic and Conquest period. The nomenclature used in that project refers
to the ceramic types from the Classic with the name “Cholula”, followed by the phase
number (from I to IV), while Postclassic types are referred to as Cholulteca (also from I
to IV), as indicated in Table 6 below.
Table 6. Cholula’s archaeological phases, according to the classification of ceramic
assemblages. Cholula I-IV pertain to the Formative and Classic periods;
Cholulteca I-IV to the Early and Late Postclassic (after Muller 1970 and 1978).
 428

Archeological Phase Dates (AD)

Cholula I 0-200
Cholula II 200-350
Cholula III 450-500
Cholula IV 700-800
Cholulteca I 800-900
Cholulteca II 900-1325
Cholulteca III 1325-1500
Cholulteca IV 1500-1525

According to Muller (1970), the archaeological phase called Cholulteca I (ca.

AD 800-900) is characterized by ‘the introduction of new forms that are fused with
some features that have survived from the Teotihuacan tradition’, such as the comal
(griddle) with high walls, the censer with handle, the tripod dish or bowl with sealed
bottom and supports in several shapes: almena (battlement); zoomorph (snake); also
noted are the grater bowl, the bowl with basal flange; and the cazuela or pan with lateral
handles, among others.
In Muller’s opinion, the presence of such new ceramic features seems to indicate
the influence or arrival of new people from outside the Cholula Valley. In the next
phase, Cholulteca II (ca. AD 900-1325), pottery ‘absorbs the features of three separate
traditions and produces a regional variation… These [features] are: the Coyotlatelco
style, Mazapa, and Culhuacán’. In addition, Cholula had strong connections with the
Gulf of Mexico area, evidenced by Fine Orange ceramics, and with Toltec culture,
represented by Plumbate ware (see Muller 1970: Photo 64), among others (p. 140).
During the Cholulteca III phase (ca. AD 1325-1500), a transformation took place that
resulted in a new style of pottery that would come to characterize Cholula in the future.
These new features consisted in three different types of finish on the surface of the pots:
‘lacquer’, ‘matte’ and ‘firm’. As for archaeological markers, Muller defines them
according to three styles: ‘Geometric’, ‘Realist’ and ‘Codex’ (p. 141). About the Codex
style, Muller says that ‘because of its beauty and the stylization of its motifs, it
resembles the codexes of the Tlaxcala-Puebla school, namely the Borgia, Fergervary
Mayer and Vaticanus 3773 or B. The most common motifs are the day signs of the
Tonalpohualli (ritual calendar), the serpent (Coatl), the Earth monster (Cipactli), two
 429

kinds of birds, the monkey, etcetera’ (p. 142). Gods are represented as well, ‘like
Quetzalcoatl or his symbol (a conch shell cut lengthwise) and, finally, a hummingbird,
which stands for the souls of dead warriors’ (p. 142).
During the last phase, Cholulteca IV (ca. AD 1500-1525), ‘at the arrival of the
Spaniards Cholula’s ceramic tradition was at its apex of development (Figure 196).
However, under the regime of the Colonial administration… little by little most
indigenous ceramic forms disappeared, with the exception of the cántaro (water bottle)
and the cup, which withstood the onslaught of time’ (p. 142).
The Mixteca-Puebla Artistic Tradition. What follows is a summary discussion of the
archaeological and art-historical phenomenon that has been called ‘Mixteca-Puebla’,
presented in chronological order. This discussion is important for the subsequent
presentation of West Mexican culture history, since the artistic tradition in question
spread to the farthest confines of the Mesoamerican ecumene, reaching the far
northwest, and influencing the art of many cultures in the process.
One of the earliest finds pertaining to the Mixteca-Puebla style comes from
Tizatlán, Tlaxcala, where Caso (1927) studied a series of multi-colored Postclassic
murals that had come to light thanks to a recent accidental discovery of a pre-Hispanic
building on a small hill in the town of San Esteban Tizatlán, located northwest of the
city of Tlaxcala. The Archaeology Department of the Department of Education took
over excavations at the site, which consisted of ‘the upper room or sanctuary of an
indigenous temple. There was a stairway leading to this room, of which only six steps
remain… Two semi-circular great columns were at the front, and four smaller ones at
the back, which had supported the [now missing] roof… There [are two] monument[s]
decorated with paintings on three sides… I will call the one on the east “Altar B” and
the one on the west “Altar A”’ (p. 139).
The altars were covered with a thick layer of mortar, and the paintings were
apparently applied once the mortar dried. Caso presents the following description of the
paintings on Altar A: ‘Two personages are depicted in an attitude of confrontation, the
one on the right is very easy to identify, since he has all the attributes of Tezcatlipoca’
(Figure 197). Caso compares this figure with the Codex Borgia, finding that ‘the
similarity is so remarkable that we could think that the same culture is responsible for
the artwork in both the codex and the Tizatlán murals’ (p. 145). On the other side of the
mural is an individual with skeletal features, ‘who has the attributes of
Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, the deity of planet Venus, but in this instance he has probably
 430

been conceived as the evening star’ (p. 147). Behind the figure mentioned above ‘there
is a snake with blood spurting from its mouth, probably caused by a flint knife. The
flowing blood is decorated with flowers and chalchihuites’ (i.e. precious green stones)
(p. 149).
Altar ‘A’ is decorated on both sides with a band occupying two thirds of the total
height of the altar. We see a human skull with a sort of cap and the colors of
chalchihuites, while another feature is a human heart with a band in the center, also with
chalchihuites, which Caso interpreted as blood. In third place, is a human left hand with
the fingernails painted blue and the thumb bent upward, also adorned with
chalchihuites. To the left of the hand is a symbol whose meaning is difficult to
understand: a red ring with a smaller blue ring inside, decorated with black dots and
crossed by a band with the colors of chalchihuites. Caso said that he had ‘not been able
to find a similar symbol in the codices… but I think that in general it represents a shield
adorned with turquoise’ and an atlatl (p. 152). In his opinion, ‘because of their style, the
Tizatlán paintings are undoubtedly related to the manuscripts of the Borgia Group,
which Seler thinks come from the region of Teotitlán del Camino, Oaxaca’ (p. 171).
Caso comes to the following (tentative) interpretation regarding this unique
archaeological find: ‘In sum… I believe it is likely that the construction of the temple
in… Tizatlán pertains to the Olmeca 8 tribe, but for the time being I think it is more
prudent not to arrive at a definitive conclusion about this question’ (p. 172).
In the same year as Caso’s report cited above, Noguera (1927) published his
own conclusions regarding the Tizatlán murals. Noguera mentioned the accounts
written by colonial Spanish authors about several sacrifices among the ancient
Tlaxcaltecans. But he said there was no proof from the altars themselves that would link
them to these sacrifices. Noguera could not go beyond assigning the altars a
hypothetical sacrificial function, hoping, he said, that later studies would clarify the
epoch and the circumstances in which the altars had been made and used (p. 62).
The first author to use the name ‘Mixteca-Puebla’ to refer to this artistic tradition
was George Vaillant (1940), who thought that after the ‘Chichimec period’ (that is, the
period between the fall of the Classic cultures and the beginning of the Postclassic),
there had been ‘a gradual resurgence of temple architecture combined with the spread of
Aztec ceramics’, until the ‘typically Aztec ceremonial… culture dominated the northern

8
Here, Caso probably refers to the Olmeca Xicalanca, an ethnic group thought to be among the mythical founders of pre-Hispanic
Cholula.
 431

area of the Valley [of Mexico]… the appearance of the culture [took place] in the mid-
thirteenth century and spread by the mid-fourteenth. The ceremonial elements of a
carefully defined polytheism, the tonalpohualli, a 52-year cycle, and stylized picture
writing stem from a common source seemingly centering in the Mixteca Puebla area’ (p.
299). 9
For Vaillant, the ‘Mixteca Puebla culture’ pertained to the fifth period at Monte
Albán. Vaillant saw the distribution of this type of ceremonialism as being closely-
paralleled by the spread of Plumbate ware from the south and fine orange from the
north, and argued that it had very important cultural implications, since elements of this
‘culture’ were found in the Cerro Montoso culture of Veracruz and the Mexican
occupation of Chichén Itzá, reaching as far east as Santa Rita, Belize (p. 299), as far
south as Salvador and Naco, Honduras and even as far as Nicaragua. The northward
expansion is shown by several vessels from Guasave in far distant Sinaloa, showing
ritualized presentations of gods executed in the Mixteca-Puebla style. Vaillant also
mentioned the following outstanding traits of the Mixteca-Puebla tradition: (1) its
spread was characterized mainly in terms of ritualistic presentation; (2) there is evidence
that much of the distribution was accomplished by movements of peoples; and (3) the
movements can be dated between AD 1100 and 1300 (p. 300). He also recognized the
fact that questions of cultural diffusion are especially difficult for archaeologists to
answer, since they needed to have a (not yet available) broad empirical basis in order ‘to
symbolize through imperishable objects the potentialities of the total social and material
culture’ (p. 304).
In the early 1950s, Noguera conducted research on the pottery from Cholula and
published a ground-breaking report (Noguera 1954). Noguera’s work attracted favorable
attention, as seen in Millon’s review (1957) of the volume in question, La cerámica
arqueológica de Cholula. In his review of Noguera’s book, Millon (1957) points out
that the study was based on stratigraphic excavations conducted by Noguera in the early
1930s, as well as his explorations in and around the Great Pyramid at Cholula.
Noguera’s book is largely devoted to the study of pottery from the Cholulteca (i.e.
Postclassic) period, but it also discusses ‘Arcaic’ (i.e. Formative) and Classic-period
ceramics. Noguera divided the Cholulteca period into three phases based on decorated
wares. During the Cholulteca I phase, Cholula’s influence extended as far as Yucatán,

9
The Tonalpohualli was the Aztec ‘book of divination’. This word comes from tonalpoa, meaning divination, ‘to divine, predict,
foresee, to tell the feasts according to the Mexican calendar’ (Siméon 1983:716).
 432

while the closest relationships were with the Mixteca region, the coast of Veracruz,
Tlaxcala and the Basin of Mexico.
The relationship between Cholula and Teotihuacan was still a major problem at
the time this book was written. While Noguera was not able to resolve the issue, he did
find a partial answer, by suggesting that most of the building phases inside the Great
Pyramid are of Teotihuacan age, while the latest structure pertains to the Cholulteca
period. Noguera arrived at this conclusion on the basis of ceramic materials found in the
upper levels of the pyramid’s fill. Noguera postulated in his book a direct cultural
development at Cholula from Classic to Postclassic times, while a fusion of early and
late traits would account for the origin of the Cholulteca archaeological culture. From a
technical standpoint, he saw the production of Cholulteca I polychrome ceramics as a
derivation from Teotihuacan’s al fresco pottery decoration.
In the following decade, Vaillant (1962) argued that during the Late Postclassic
a ‘religious civilization’ was spreading, sustained by members of a totally different
linguistic stock from the Mixtecs –i.e. Nahuatl-speakers– that reached its zenith among
the Aztecs of Central Mexico. Vaillant thought that the place of origin of this cultural
manifestation was ‘in the lands of the Mixtecs in northern Oaxaca and in the territory of
Nahua tribes in Puebla. This was why to call this civilization ‘Mixteca-Puebla’ was ‘the
best way… to reconcile cultural with political history’ (p. 43).
The Aztecs, however, had not created ‘their art forms or their religion, which
seem to have seeped in from the Mixteca-Puebla country. There, the religious
manuscripts and the ritualistic concepts hewn in stone and painted on vases were more
complex and better drawn than their Aztec equivalents’ (p. 171).
Citing Vaillant’s work mentioned above, Nicholson (1960 [1981]) wrote about
the Mixteca-Puebla concept and how Vaillant had created this construct as part of his
attempt to erect a general scheme for the interpretation of prehistoric Mesoamerica, with
special emphasis on central Mexico. Nicholson said that Vaillant had visualized the
genesis of what he variously termed a ‘culture’, ‘civilization’ or ‘culture complex’ in the
region of Puebla (especially Cholula) and the Mixtec area of Oaxaca after the end of the
Classic period. Vaillant saw this cultural phenomenon as providing the source and
inspiration of Aztec civilization, and believed that elements of this ‘culture’ were
carried throughout Mesoamerica, from Sinaloa in the north to Nicaragua in the south,
mainly by actual migrations of great numbers of people.
 433

Vaillant’s Mixteca-Puebla concept was soon accepted by other archaeologists,

Ekholm being among the first to do so. In his Guasave (Sinaloa) report, Ekholm (1942)
used the concept to understand the source of an important influence in the Aztatlán
complex of Sinaloa. Since then the term has entered into the discourse of Mesoamerican
archaeology. After its original formulation, however, the Mixteca-Puebla concept had
not been the subject of any significant re-analysis until Nicholson’s study (1960).
Nicholson says that Vaillant employed the terms ‘culture’, ‘civilization’ ‘culture
complex’ and ‘period’ indistinctly in his conceptualization. Later students added the
term ‘horizon’. This loose terminology has led to much confusion (p. 255). What did
Vaillant and his followers really have in mind when using the term Mixteca-Puebla?
‘Above all, a distinct style… phrased in essentially stylistic terms… the Mixteca-Puebla
concept can still serve a useful purpose, particularly as a chronological marker’ (p. 255),
and also as a ‘horizon style’, in other words ‘a style… showing definably distinct
features some of which extend over a large area, so that its relations with other, more
local styles serve to place these in relative time, according as the relations are of
priority… or subsequence. The ideal horizon style is characterized by three principal
features: (1) narrow temporal distribution; (2) broad spatial distribution; and (3) stylistic
complexity and uniqueness’ (p. 256).
Apart from Oaxaca, Puebla and adjacent regions, especially the Valley of
Mexico, the Mixteca Puebla style has been located ‘in the Aztatlán complex of
Sinaloa… elsewhere throughout northwestern and western Mexico… in… the
Huasteca… throughout the Veracruz littoral… in the Yucatán (Chichén Itzá and
Tulum)… in Chiapas, Guatemala… and El Salvador… and as a pale reflection in…
Nicaragua, and western Costa Rica’ (p. 256).
As discussed above, one of the first studies of Cholula pottery was published by
Noguera in 1954. Noguera wrote a summary of his findings in the book La cerámica
arqueológica de Mesoamérica (1975), where he argues that one event that had a special
impact on the pottery from Cholula at the onset of the Postclassic period was the
appearance of a culture with great individuality whose principal centers were located in
the states of Puebla and Oaxaca, ‘for that reason we know it as Mixteca-Puebla. The
pottery from Cholula is without a doubt one of the primary exponents of this
outstanding culture’ (p. 167). Beginning in 1932, Noguera conducted several
excavations at Cholula, including stratigraphic pits and the study of thousands of sherds
that appeared in the exploratory tunnels excavated in the Great Pyramid.
 434

Noguera regarded his finds as ‘the typical Mixteca-Puebla pottery that had a
wide distribution and was traded throughout an extensive area of Mesoamerica. It is
distinguished above all by its great individuality: each vessel has its own distinctive
decoration’ (p. 168). Noguera also pointed out that ‘the pottery from Tizatlán (one of
the settlements in the area of influence of the so-called Republic of Tlaxcala) is related
to Cholula’s polychrome wares. Tizatlán is famous for the altars with al fresco
decorations discovered in 1927, following a style that is similar to that of the pottery
tradition of the same name’ (p. 173).
A few years after Noguera’s publication mentioned above, Caso (1979) wrote
that he and Vaillant had insisted on a ‘distinction between the Mixteca Puebla “culture”,
the Puebla-Tlaxcala “region” and the Mixtec “style”. The first, following Vaillant’s
definition, covers not just the area indicated, but also a wider area… and is a
manifestation of cultural diffusion’ (p. 13).
Michael Smith and Mary Heath-Smith (1980) made a critique of the Mixteca-
Puebla concept as proposed by Nicholson, Caso and others. These authors claim that
the so-called ‘waves of influence’ metaphor had permeated the archaeological literature,
‘and models based on processes of migration… trade… and general religious contacts…
invoked to explain the radiation of this “influence” from a central highland core area to
the far reaches of Mesoamerica’ (p. 15). In Smith and Heath-Smith’s view, the current
conception of the Mixteca-Puebla style is confusing because it subsumes three quite
distinct phenomena: (1) the Postclassic Religious Style, a collection of standardized
religious symbols that were in vogue throughout Mesoamerica; (2) the Mixtec Codex
Style, a Late Postclassic polychrome narrative style of the Mixteca-Puebla region; and
(3) the Mixteca-Puebla Regional Ceramic Sphere, the local ceramic complexes of the
Mixteca-Puebla region,which share several stylistic features. Failure to separate these
phenomena may lead to inappropriate models and erroneous interpretations of
Postclassic Mesoamerican cultural dynamics. Smith and Heath-Smith ‘propose that a
non-nuclear spatial model of interdependent exchange and communication networks
provides a better account of the temporal and spatial distribution of the Postclassic
religious style in Mesoamerica’ (p. 16).
At more-or-less the same time as the publication cited in the previous
paragraphs, Nicholson (1982) published a re-examination of the Mixteca-Puebla
concept in Mesoamerican archaeology that focuses on two fundamental questions: ‘(1)
whether Vaillant’s notion of Mixteca-Puebla… is still useful in Mesoamerican
 435

archaeology today; and (2) to what extent some further defining, refining and
reformulating might be needed to increase its usefulness’ (p. 231). Nicholson argued
that the continued use of the ethnic-linguistic term ‘Mixtec’ for the overall tradition had
promoted some dubious culture-historical assumptions, such as the actual migration of
‘Mixtec people’ to explain the presence of the stylistic tradition outside the historically-
documented Mixtec-speaking zone, and that cultural leadership in Postclassic
Mesoamerica had passed to this group. Nicholson thought that ‘migratory explanations
often do not appear very convincing, especially when considerable distances are
involved (e.g. Guasave, Sinaloa; East Coast of Yucatan)’ (p. 231), and he (1994)
analyzed various suggestions that had been made to explain the widespread dispersal of
Mixteca-Puebla in Late Postclassic Mesoamerica, including long-range commercial
activity based on the importance of extensive trade networks in Mesoamerica as
evidenced by abundant ethnohistorical and archaeological data. It had also been
suggested that Mixteca-Puebla’s widespread distribution reflected the development of a
pan-Mesoamerican ‘religious unification’ during the Late Postclassic period (p. xiv),
and that ‘certain fundamental ritual patterns and ideological concepts were widely
shared, and this may well have been a key factor in promoting the process of
iconographic standardization that was the Mixteca-Puebla hallmark. Old World
examples of major religious ideologies (Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc.)
were cited to provide at least partial parallels to the Mesoamerican phenomenon’ (p.
39).
In addition to ceramics, codices and murals, other media were used to express
the Mixteca-Puebla artistic tradition as well, including textiles (Figure 198).
McCafferty and McCafferty (2000) tell us that ‘textiles were of enormous importance in
Postclassic Central Mexico to the extent that… [mantles] were a common unit for
tribute payment… Textile production was considered women’s work and, as such, was
closely related to the domestic sphere’ (p. 39), although archaeological evidence
indicates that temple and/or workshop level production also existed, perhaps for ritual
or elite consumption. Ethnohistorical data from the Postclassic reveal variations in
costume use according to cultural identities such as gender, status, religious rank and
possibly ethnic affiliation, while archaeological data, in contrast, relate to textile
production and, specifically, to the material culture and techniques involved in spinning
and weaving. Based on ethnohistorical sources, the fibers used by Cholula weavers
included cotton, maguey and even such materials as feathers and rabbit fur. Cotton
 436

could have been imported from the Gulf coast or southern Puebla, while maguey was
easily-available, as were feathers from the migratory water fowl that lived in the nearby
marshes.
Pre-Hispanic textiles are seldom recovered from archaeological excavations, but
spindle whorls found in archaeological contexts can be used to infer the kinds of fibers
spun: the size of whorls for spinning cotton, for example, was smaller than those used
for maguey and other coarse fibers. In addition to functional aspects of spinning and
weaving, spindle whorls provide other information on the cultural context of textile
production, including social aspects like the gender-based division of labor in the
organization of textile production (Figure 199). Ethnohistorical information
underscores a strong correlation between spinning and weaving activities and female
gender identity. ‘Spinning and weaving equipment has been found in mortuary contexts
from Postclassic Oaxaca, where spindle whorls, battens, picks, and spinning bowls are
associated with women affiliated with the earth/fertility complex… Spinning
implements are clearly gender specific in the Mixtec… codices… some of which may
have been painted in or around Cholula’ (p. 49).
Pre-Columbian textile production in Postclassic Cholula and many other
localities was a complex process, inextricably related to economics, status, gender,
religion and social organization. The large quantities of spindle whorls from Cholula
suggest that in Postclassic times this city was a major center of fiber production and
consumption (p. 50). Rich textiles, among many other precious materials, could have
been used in the gift-exchange system that articulated social relations among elites.
John M. Pohl (2003) tells us that according to archaeological evidence, by AD 1200
emerging great houses throughout the Mixteca-Puebla area ‘began to engage in fiercely
competitive reciprocity systems to enhance their position in alliance networks’ (p. 172).
Some kingdoms became international trade centers thanks to exchange that took place
during annual religious festivals and other special occasions.
In both Mixtec and Zapotec societies, representatives of the rulers mounted
expeditions into foreign lands in search of exotic goods for the royal courts, where these
preciosities ‘were transformed into stunning works of art for prestige display, gifts, or
bridewealth’ (p. 175). Pohl wrote that ‘only turquoise surpassed gold in terms of value
in the Postclassic elite economy. Turquoise procurement appears to have been
dominated by the Mixtecs of the Costa and Baja regions… Turquoise was mined and
transformed into tesserae on Mesoamerica’s northern frontier… [They] were then
 437

transported over tremendously long distances by Chichimec entrepreneurs into West

Mexico, where the material was redistributed throughout Mesoamerica’ (p. 176).
Palace feasts were the primary locus for gift exchange, as regional government
became highly-segmented and commercially-oriented during the Early-to-Middle
Postclassic. ‘This was the time when… emphasis was placed on… private feasting and
drinking parties that were… an integral part of alliance formation… The value of wealth
acquired from distant lands was amplified through artistic transformation… the elite
themselves served as the principal traders and craft producers’ (p. 176).
In discussing the concept of ‘style’ as it pertains to Mixteca-Puebla ceramics
(Figure 200), McCafferty and Steinbrenner (2005) say that ‘style may carry information
about cultural identities either overtly as emblematic symbols, or covertly as shared
patterns of learned behavior. Similarly, material culture may incorporate… mental
templates of past societies, as well as functional information on the technology and
practice of daily life’ (p. 282). Mixteca-Puebla stylistic elements have been identified in
various areas of the Americas, from the southeastern United States to the Pacific coasts
of Nicaragua and northwestern Costa Rica. McCafferty and Steinbrenner (p. 283) took a
critical look at the Mixteca-Puebla style as it appears in the southern periphery of
Mesoamerica. Based on an assemblage of polychrome pottery found at Rivas,
Nicaragua, related to the Mixteca-Puebla stylistic tradition, they asked how similar the
iconography really is to Mixteca-Puebla themes, and what the similarities might
represent in terms of cultural history for this region.
The model that McCafferty and Steinbrenner propose as an explanation for the
spread of the style tradition in question is based on ‘traveling merchants working under
the umbrella of the Quetzalcoatl cult, spreading an ideology of elite interaction that was
symbolically represented through the iconic images of the Mixteca-Puebla religious
complex. The… merchants (pochteca) traveled long distances, trading for exotic goods
that they then exchanged at certain regional markets such as Cholula and Xicalango’
(Campeche) (p. 287). Among the commodities that the long-distance merchants sought
were quetzal feathers, jade and cacao, among many others. All these products were
found in Central America, where there had been cultural contact, perhaps on the level of
elite interaction, to establish a trade partnership in order to secure exotic or valued
commodities.
Gilda Hernández (2010) made a study of a large corpus of codex-style vessels of
the Mixteca-Puebla style, concluding that ‘the pictography and vessel shape strongly
 438

suggest that codex-style ceramics were created for ritual purposes, especially for
feasting, but probably also for other ceremonial activities’ (p. 254). In the vessels under
study ‘signs are standardized —that is, they have a standard arrangement on the vessel’s
surface. They form complexes of signs… however… vessels with the same complex of
signs were not necessarily the product of a single workshop’ (p. 256).
In the sample she studied, Hernández did not find dates, calendrical data,
geographical places or personal names. Rather, ‘the signs depicted on the vessels
formed thematic complexes. The themes seem to be central concepts in the context of
Mesoamerican ritual practice’ (p. 261). Some themes were related to ritual activities in
general, like the ‘solar band complex’, while others appear to be associated with central
kinds of ceremonies ‘like the propitiation of agricultural fertility or the cult of the dead
and the ancestors… Other common Mesoamerican [themes] were… the “complex of
warriors”… the “complex of pulque”… and the “complex of powerful beings”’ (p. 261).
The majority of the vessels were designed for serving food. Some are
appropriate for drinking, like goblets, jars, vases and bowls, while certain vessels
‘would have been appropriate for individual consumption, such as plates, tripod bowls,
and hemispherical bowls, and some would have been used for the collective serving of
food and drink, such as pitchers, craters, bottles, and big bowls’ (p. 266).
Codex-style vessels were probably used for feasting, as part of ‘ritualized events
in which food and drink functioned as the main means of expression… In Mesoamerica
feasting was, and still is, an essential element of community life… Codex-style vessels
were, however, not only serving wares. It is also possible that some were containers for
offerings of food, beverages, or other substances’ (p. 266), since in many codices
serving vessels are used for offerings during diverse ritual activities.
Hernández concludes her study by stating that ‘codex-style vessels… were
objects for ceremony… Most likely the meanings of the painted signs were related to
the context in which the vessels were used. For example, vessels designed for feasting,
in general, were painted with symbols of nobility and luxury, while vessels created for
specific ceremonies, like the cult of the dead or agricultural propitiation’ (p. 268),
included well-defined motifs related to those ceremonies.
The ritual activities mentioned above were important for religious ceremonies
and for the preservation of the elites through display and feasting. We know that
‘Postclassic Cholula was the cult center for Quetzalcoatl, god of the wind, the planet
Venus, and sacred knowledge’ (McCafferty 2000). The pochteca merchants who were
 439

‘associated with the cult of Quetzalcoatl brought exotic merchandise to the marketplace
at Cholula from throughout Mesoamerica… and in exchange distributed ideologically
charged objects in the Mixteca-Puebla stylistic tradition… In sum, Cholula was a hub of
religious and economic activity, with high-quality craft production used to communicate
ideological messages relating to religion, ethnicity, and status’ (p. 39).
The Quetzalcoatl cult was one of the pillars of ritual and ceremonial activities in
West Mexico, so the ground was fertile for the dispersal of Quetzalcoatl iconography
and other traits of Mixteca-Puebla stylistic tradition, as discussed in the following
section.

Figure 143. Map of Early Postclassic Mesoamerica (ca. AD 900-1200) showing the northern
Mesoamerican frontier and major sites (adapted from Evans 2004a: Figure 15.1).
 440

Figure 144. Map of the Tula Grande monumental precinct, showing major buildings (adapted from
Healan 2012: Figure 6).

Figure 145. The Hall of Columns in the Palacio Quemado at Tula pertains to a diagnostic Toltec
architectural style that was copied throughout Postclassic Mesoamerica (photo courtesy of Dan Healan).
 441

Figure 146. Square columns on Pyramid C, showing the Toltec method of construction: a core of small
stones covered by a surface of plaster, which may have been painted (photo courtesy of Dan Healan).

Figure 147. The Toltecs were famous for their art and architecture among their contemporaries and even
later cultures, such as the Aztecs. The Atlantes stand guard atop Pyramid B at Tula (photo courtesy of
Dan Healan).
 442

Figure 148. Toltec sculpture included low-relief designs such as these warriors and ‘dart bundles’ carved
on a column on the summit of Pyramid B (adapted from Diehl 1983: Figure 13).

Figure 149a. This tzompantli or skull rack is a platform with sculpted stacks of human crania found in the
Templo Mayor of Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital. The tzompantli formed part of the cultural legacy
handed down to the Aztecs from the Toltecs (after Matos 1982:65).
 443

149b. Detail of the human skulls sculpted on the Aztec tzompantli. The actual skulls of war captives were
displayed on this altar (after Matos 1981: figure on back cover).

Figure 150. Stone slab with skull and crossed bones from Tula. Death imagery was common in Toltec and
other Postclassic art styles (after de la Fuente et al., 1988: Figure 88 e).
 444

(a)

(b)

Figure 151. The chacmool is a characteristic figure in the Toltec artistic tradition, like this sculpture from
Tula’s Palacio Quemado; (a) front view; (b) view from above (after de la Fuente et al., 1988: 31, 31a).

Figure 152. Stone slab with a walking coyote from Tula. The coyote had war connotations in Toltec
iconography (after de la Fuente et al., 1988: Figure 96).
 445

Figure 153. Map of Chingú, a Classic-period site in the Tula region, culturally-linked to the Teotihuacan
state (adapted from Díaz 1980: Figure 7).

Figure 154. Contour map of the Tula Chico precinct, showing the major buildings and the surrounding
area (adapted from Cobean and Mastache 1995: Figure 125).
 446

Figure 155. Coyotlatelco Red-on-Buff pottery characteristic of the Epiclassic-Early Postclassic transition
in the Tula region (adapted from Diehl 1983: Figure 7).

Figure 156. The Toltec ceramic assemblage included distinct wares for domestic and ritual or ceremonial
use (adapted from Mastache et al., 2002: Figure 3.1).
 447

Figure 157. Toltec trade wares: Fine Orange (left and center) and a Plumbate effigy vessel (adapted from
Fahmel Beyer 1988: Figure on cover).

Figure 158. These Mazapa bowls decorated with wavy lines are characteristic of the Early Postclassic
Toltec ceramic assemblage (adapted from Diehl 1983: Figure 8).
 448

Figure 159. Clay figurines were linked to the religious cult at Tula. These pieces pertain to many styles
and periods. Top right: Teotihuacan style; center left: Aztec style. The remainder are from the Tollan
phase. The figure at the lower left is a representation of Tlaloc (adapted from Diehl 1983: Figure 26).

Figure 160. Tula was a well-planned city; at its peak (during the 10th-11th centuries) it may have housed
as many as 50,000 people. This map shows part of the nuclear area of the archaeological site (adapted
from Mastache et al., 2002: Figure 5.5).
 449

Figure 161. These house groups and a temple were discovered by excavations at the El Canal area of Tula
(adapted from Mastache et al., 2002: Figure 6.1).

Figure 162. Hypothetical reconstruction of the house groups at the El Canal locality (adapted from
Mastache et al., 2002: Figure 6.3).
 450

Figure 163. Plan and isometric projection of House IV at Tula’s Central Group, showing special artifacts
and features within 10 cm of floor (adapted from Healan 1989: Figure 9.2).
 451

Figure 164. The excavations at El Canal uncovered many stone foundations. House VII is in the
foreground, with the Central Group Courtyard (with altar) in the background (photo courtesy of Dan
Healan).

Figure 165. The Toltecs had trade networks throughout Mesoamerica, from the Basin of Mexico to the
Gulf of Mexico, West Mexico, the northern frontier and the Maya area (adapted from Diehl 1983: Figure
31).
 452

Figure 166. Reclining chacmool sculpture in El Castillo, Chichén Itzá. This figure has been interpreted as
evidence of cultural influence in the Maya area from Toltec central Mexico. The figure in the back is the
famous Red Jaguar Throne (after García and Cobos 2009:139).

Figure 167. The Red Jaguar Throne of Chichén Itzá is carved out of a huge block of limestone and
painted with cinnabar, with canines of white flint, eyes of green jade and spots made of the same material
(after Covarrubias 1957:244).
 453

Figure 168. Temple of the Warriors (left) and Hall of Columns at Chichén Itzá, showing influence of the
Toltec architectural style (after García and Cobos 2009:44).

Figure 169. Skull rack or tzompantli at Chichén Itzá. The building was probably used to display actual
human skulls, as seen in Figure 170 (after García and Cobos 2009:168).
 454

Figure 170. Hypothetical reconstruction of the tzompantli displaying racks of human crania (after García
and Cobos 2009:168).

Figure 171. Partial map of Alta Vista, Zacatecas, showing the main buildings, including the Hall of
Columns (courtesy of Proyecto Arqueológico Alta Vista-Chalchihuites, Zacatecas, INAH).
 455

Figure 172. The Hall of Columns at Alta Vista, Zacatecas, is a clear indication of Toltec influence in the
northern frontier of Mesoamerica (after Kelley 1990:491).

Figure 173. Contour map of La Quemada, Zacatecas, showing major architectural features (including the
Toltec-inspired Hall of Columns) and trash middens (adapted from Elliott 2007: Figure 5).
 456

Figure 174. Graph showing tree-ring data on Mesoamerican climate change during the major cultural
periods: Classic, Early Postclassic, Late Postclassic and Early Colonial. A major drought is noted in the
month of June in each period, based on the Palmer Drought Severity Index (PDSI) (adapted from Stahle
et al., 2011: Figure 2).

Figure 175. Map showing the location of the major areas and archaeological sites where the Mixteca-
Puebla stylistic tradition has been identified (adapted from Lind 1994: Figure 1).
 457

Figure 176. Partial map of Mitla, showing the Northern Group and the Building of Columns. Note the
modern streets surrounding the archaeological site (adapted from Robles and Juárez 2009: Figure 2).

Figure 177. Façade of the Building of Columns at Mitla. Note the ‘step-fret’ stone mosaics decorating the
front of the building (after Marquina 1951: Photo 169).
 458

Figure 178. Building of the Columns at Mitla. Detail of moldings and cut-out view indicating how the
stone mosaics forming the step-fret decorations were laid out (adapted from Marquina 1951: Plate 111).

Figure 179. Reconstructive drawings of Mitla architecture: (1) North Building showing a tomb below the
floor of the building; and (2) construction system of the North Building. Note the examples of step-fret
mosaic designs that covered parts of the building (adapted from Marquina 1951: Plate 110).
 459

Figure 180. Plan and elevation of the Building of Columns at Mitla. Top: back façade; middle: plan view;
bottom: main façade (adapted from Marquina 1951: Plate 108).

Figure 181. Mixtec tripod bowl with snake supports, found at Monte Albán (Phase V) (after Caso et al.,
1967: Figure 376).
 460

Figure 182. Mixtec polychrome tripod vessel with solar motif from Monte Albán (Phase V) (after Caso et
al., 1967: Plate XXIX).

Figure 183. Fragments of Mixtec polychrome pottery from Monte Albán (Phase V). Figure ‘c’ shows a
design representing clouds on the interior, and the step-fret motif on the exterior. Figure ‘d’ shows a dish
fragment bearing a symbol of clouds; it probably had a human figure with a feather headdress in the
center (after Caso et al., 1967: Plate XXX).
 461

Figure 184. Mixtec clay censer from Monte Albán (Phase V). This type of vessel was used for burning
incense in a ritual context (after Caso et al., 1967: Plate XXXI).

Figure 185. Mixtec clay vessels with feline claw from Etla, Oaxaca (Phase V) (after Caso et al., 1967:
Plate XXXII).
 462

Figure 186. Pectoral made of solid gold, found in Monte Albán’s Tomb 7. The main figure is wearing a
tiger or serpent helmet, while the face is partially covered by a ‘mouth mask’ with skeletal attributes. The
bottom of the item is formed by two squares, each with different calendrical notations. It is 115 mm at the
widest part and weighs 112 grams (after Caso 1969: Plate VI).

Figure 187. Carved bones from Monte Alban’s Tomb 7. The pieces reveal a sophisticated Mixtec
craftsmanship and an iconography underlying a complex belief system. Most of the bones found in the
tomb were carved from jaguar or eagle bone, two animals that had strong supernatural connotations in the
Mixtec worldview (adapted from Marcus 2003: Figure 8.20).
 463

Figure 188. Some Mixtec codices are historical in content, narrating the life of one or several kings. In
this case, the Codex Nuttall shows two bridal scenes: at left the couple is covered by a mantle, while the
scene at right shows a lord and lady with a vessel of frothing chocolate between them (after Caso 1979:
Plate 4).

Figure 189. The Codex Borgia is an example of the Mixteca-Puebla artistic tradition. This page shows a
dual representation of Mictlantecuhtli, the god of death (left) and Quetzalcoatl, the god of wind and life.
Quetzalcoatl was one of the iconographic traits associated with the diffusion of the Mixteca-Puebla style
and culture throughout Mesoamerica (after Códice Borgia 1963: Figure 56).
 464

Figure 190. Partial map of the Tututepec (Oaxaca) archaeological site showing residences ‘A’ and ‘C’
(adapted from Levine 2007: Figure 3).

Figure 191. Map showing the territory under the control of the Tututepec kingdom in southern Oaxaca
(adapted from Levine 2017: Figure 35.1).
 465

Figure 192. Four sides of ‘Monument 6’, a monolith found in a high-status residential sector at Tututepec
(adapted from Joyce et al., 2004: Figure 11).

Figure 193. The Great Pyramid at Cholula, Puebla, is the monument of greatest dimensions in all of
Mesoamerica, if not the New World. It originally pertained to the Classic period, but was probably in
ruins by the time of the Spanish Conquest (adapted from Marquina 1970: Figure 16).
 466

Figure 194. Plan of the Great Pyramid at Cholula showing the major archaeological features (adapted
from McCafferty 2001: Figure 1.2).

Figure 195a. Ceramic markers of the Postclassic period at Cholula. A: Cholulteca II; B-D: Cholulteca III;
E and F: Cholulteca I (adapted from Muller 1970: Figure 25).
 467

Figure 195b. Ceramic markers of the Postclassic period at Cholula. A-C: Cholulteca III; D and E:
Cholulteca II; F: Cholulteca I (adapted from Muller 1970: Figure 26).

Figure 196. Two vessels of the ‘Cholulteca Codex’ style, from Cholula, Puebla (photo courtesy of Hasso
von Winning).
 468

Figure 197. Detail of the Late Postclassic murals at Tizatlán, Tlaxcala, depicting Tezcatlipoca, the god of
the night sky. The style is Mixteca-Puebla, while the subject matter pertains to the Mesoamerican
iconographic tradition (after Caso 1927: Plate I).

Figure 198. The Mixteca-Puebla artistic tradition included fine textiles, like the dresses worn by female
members of the Mixtec elite portrayed in the Codex Nuttall (after Nuttall 1975:81-82).
 469

Figure 199. Very few examples of pre-Hispanic textiles have survived in the archaeological record, so we
have to rely on indirect evidence, like these spindle whorls used for spinning cotton thread in Postclassic
Cholula, Puebla (adapted from McCafferty and McCafferty 2000: Figure 6).

Figure 200. Ceramic bowl of the Mixteca-Puebla tradition with anthropomorphic decoration (Ocotlan Red
Rim Type from Cholula). (Adapted from McCafferty 2001: Figure on cover, detail).
 470

Part 2. The Postclassic Period in West Mexico

Beekman (2010) sees the Postclassic in West Mexico as ‘a period of continuing aridity,
contributing to the abandonment of the north-central part of Mesoamerica… Population
in the Bajío declined steeply in the Early Postclassic period, if not earlier’ (p. 73), while
in a few sites in Querétaro, Guanajuato, and San Luis Potosí ‘there is evidence of
relations with Tula, including imported pottery… chacmool and other sculptures, and
substantial architectural platforms [suggesting] active involvement by Tula in distant
areas along the northern limits’ of the ecumene (p. 73).
The Aztatlán complex of West Mexico (Figure 201) was intimately related to
the Mixteca-Puebla artistic tradition. Aztatlán materials appear over a wide area, from
the Jalisco coast north to Sinaloa, encompassing ‘a string of towns sharing very similar
ceramics and a very regular contact with one another’ (pp. 74-75). During the Early
Postclassic period (ca. AD 900-1200), West Mexico experienced a considerable
increase in cultural influences from Central Mexico. Shaft tombs had not been used for
several centuries, and a new tradition can be seen in the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area.
These strong influences emanating from Central Mexico had appeared in this area by
the 7th century, if not before (Meighan 1976:161), as evidenced by the introduction of
planned mound-plaza complexes oriented towards the four cardinal directions.
In several areas of Western Mexico during the Postclassic period it is common to
find pottery with stylistic traits pertaining to the Mixteca-Puebla tradition, as mentioned
above. This ceramic evidence indicates cultural influences from ca. AD 900 that
originated in Central Mexico and may have been in part religious, in part military, and
in part mercantile. While it is not possible to speak of an ‘empire’, the pottery,
iconography, community patterns and most of the manufactured objects certainly reveal
influences from the central Mexican highlands (Meighan 1974:1259). According to
Nicholson (1982:229), the Mixteca-Puebla tradition is a ‘horizon-style’, as it had a
limited temporal distribution but a broad geographical distribution, as well as stylistic
complexity and certain unique attributes. The Mixteca-Puebla tradition was a pan-
Mesoamerican phenomenon that was present from northern Mexico as far south as
Nicaragua (Nicholson 1981:253; Nicholson and Quiñones Keber 1994).
One of the best-known examples of the Mixteca-Puebla presence in Western
Mexico is the Aztatlán complex of Guasave, Sinaloa. According to Gordon Ekholm
(1942), considering the number of cultural traits shared by the Aztatlán complex and
 471

several central Mexican cultures, there can be no question as to the cultural links
between the two areas (Ekholm 1942:126). Other examples of ceramic styles similar to
Mixteca-Puebla come from Amapa, Nayarit (Meighan 1976), and Chametla (Kelly
1938, Figures 1, 8) and Culiacán (Kelly 1945, Figures 19-37), both in Sinaloa. During
the Early Postclassic period, Mixteca-Puebla traits were being exported to Western
Mexico along a well-organized trade route via the Lerma and Santiago River basins.
This route may have appeared as early as 600 BC, and its origin may have been linked
to the spread of metallurgy along the Pacific coast (Publ 1985:26). Charles Kelley
mentions the existence of a ‘copper route’ that would indicate the systematic
exploitation and distribution of copper, turquoise, cotton, textiles, lead, tin, parrots and,
probably, gold (Kelley, unpublished manuscript cited in Publ 1985:46-47; see also
Kelley 2000).
According to Mountjoy, Aztatlán was the most widespread archaeological
culture in Western Mexico, and was associated with the development and spread of
advanced technologies such as metallurgy and the production of obsidian prismatic
blades, as well as ceramic pipes and spindle whorls. The decoration of pottery vessels
with ‘codex-style’ designs, as well as the presence of Plumbate pottery and the use of
Mazapa-style figurines, indicate links with the Postclassic cultures of the central-
Mexican highlands (Mountjoy 1990:543). The Aztatlán complex has been dated to ca.
AD 800-1400, and diagnostic materials pertaining to it have been found in the modern
states of Sinaloa, Nayarit, Jalisco and Michoacán, as well as in areas as far away as
Durango, Chihuahua and New Mexico (Mountjoy 1990:542, 1994b).
Kelley (2000) writes that the different segments of the Aztatlán trade route
participated in regional trade systems as early as the Classic period and, in some cases,
even in Formative times. During the Epiclassic and Early Postclassic periods there is
evidence of a trade route that originated in the Valley of Mexico, followed the Lerma
River, crossed the Bajío, and reached all the way to Nayarit and Sinaloa.
For Beekman (2010), other evidence of contact between West and Central
Mexico comes from south of the Aztatlán area. In Colima, the major archaeological site
of El Chanal covers several square kilometers with monumental architecture, including
a ball-court, a structure with columns, and several buildings with carved stairways
depicting calendrical symbols and the Mesoamerican rain god, artifacts made of copper,
silver and gold were found in burials at this site, while the ceramic assemblage there
shows many similarities with cultural materials from Early-Postclassic Tula.
 472

One of the most momentous historical processes in the West-Mexican

Postclassic period is the emergence of the Tarascan Empire in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin
of Michoacán. Beekman states that this ‘process… has received much more
archaeological attention recently; [Michoacán] is the only area in western Mexico where
a breakdown into Early, Middle, and Late Postclassic is feasible’ (p. 75). Recent
research has shown that ‘the archaeological record for the period of state formation is…
complex… and… perhaps the single dominant thread throughout this period is of ethnic
and linguistic continuity from the Formative period Chupícuaro or Loma Alta
populations through the Postclassic’ (p. 76).
In short, the most remarkable feature of the West-Mexican Postclassic period is
that for the first time West Mexico became integrated into the religious, economic, and
political universe of the Mesoamerican ecumene. What follows is a brief discussion of
the Postclassic period in Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and Sinaloa.
Michoacán. We saw earlier that in Postclassic Mesoamerica the Chichimecs played a
role similar to that of the Huns and Mongols that ravaged civilizations in Europe and
Asia, at least in the narrative woven by the first European authors who described the
Chichimecs in the sixteenth century. However, the real story may be more complex.
Peter Frankopan (2015) wrote that the Huns ‘would eat roots and raw flesh… they had
no interest in agriculture… and only wanted to steal from their neighbors, enslaving
them in the process’ (pp. 48-49). The arrival of the Huns constituted a serious threat to
the eastern half of the Roman Empire. In a later epoch, the Mongols were said to live
like animals, ‘simply wandering from one place to another’ (p. 154). But while they
‘seemed to be chaotic, bloodthirsty and unreliable’, in the words of Frankopan ‘their
rise was not the result of a lack of order, but precisely the opposite: ruthless planning,
streamlined organization and a clear set of strategic objectives were the key to
establishing the largest land empire in history. The inspiration behind the Mongol
transformation was a leader named Temujin… or Genghis Khan’ (p. 154). Not unlike
the Huns and Mongols, the Chichimecs played a crucial role in the genesis of the
Postclassic states in northwestern Mesoamerica.
Braniff (2005) tells us that, according to historical and archaeological data, we
can define the Gran Chichimeca –i.e., the region the Chichimecs called home– as a
region extending from the Mesoamerican frontier of the sixteenth century down to the
38th Northern Parallel. The Mexica viewed this northern region as part of their own
world, but in the Mesoamerican mind at the same time it was dangerous and
 473

threatening. After the Spanish Conquest, the new European settlers found this area to be
an inhospitable and virtually unknown territory, occupied by ‘wild people’ who had to
be dominated by means of ‘blood and fire’. The Spanish Empire would have to wait 300
years before finishing the process of conquering and imposing their dominion on the
northern regions beyond, or just within, the ecumene (p. 45).
For the area just south of the region that would fall to the Chichimecs after the
collapse of the Mesoamerican Classic civilization, Faugère (2009) has documented
settlements in the central-northern region of Mesoamerica, which were located in low
areas, like basins and valleys. Starting around AD 600-700, populations in northern
Michoacán gradually left those basins to occupy hill-slope zones. The peak of this
occupation was between AD 800 and 1200, but after the latter date the region would be
virtually deserted (p. 181).
In analyzing the general cultural background of the study area, Faugère focused
on a particular sector, located between the western Bajío and northern Michoacán, a
region where several cultural spheres met and formed, from the Early Postclassic, a
region where several populations co-existed along the northern Mesoamerican frontier.
On the basis of a study of settlement patterns, architecture and material culture, Faugère
presents a hypothesis on the social and political organization that existed during the
Epiclassic period (ca. AD 900-1000) in this area, in order to understand the ‘social
mechanisms’ which may explain the population dynamics that led to the conquest of
these territories by sedentary groups, as well as the abandonment of the region after AD
1200 (p. 182).
Faugère’s regional study identified 101 archaeological sites, which seem to
represent a good sample of the overall number of settlements in the region. However,
some sectors were subjected to destruction in recent times more than others, due in part
to modern agricultural practices (p. 185). Seventy archaeological sites were dated to the
Epiclassic period, and seem to have been organized into coherent clusters that may have
been autonomous entities. However, we cannot ignore the possibility that there was a
ruling center outside the survey area that has not yet been identified. The social
structure Faugère encountered here, consisting of coherent groups with high internal
solidarity and economic (and perhaps military) organization, might suffice to explain
the demographic dynamism that characterized this part of Mesoamerica.
These cultures were characterized by a high degree of adaptability, as well as
sophisticated strategies for exploiting their environment and a notable mobility, which
 474

may explain the processes through which population dynamics developed in northern
Mesoamerica during the Classic and Postclassic periods.
Michelet et al. (2005) discusses how, according to information in the Relación
de Michoacán (Alcalá 2008), the arrival of a so-called Chichimec group in the Zacapu
Lake area in the mid-thirteenth century AD signaled the beginning of a cultural process
that culminated two centuries later with the rise of the Tarascan kingdom. The author of
the Relación calls these newcomers Uacúsechas (meaning ‘eagles’), and extols their
northern origin and their character as hunters and warriors. Research by CEMCA
archaeologists in the Lake Zacapu Basin (see Chapter V) has provided a great deal of
data on the evolution of human occupation in the area between the Epiclassic and Late
Postclassic periods, information that permits a much more nuanced interpretation of the
story narrated in the Relación. Michelet et al. report that the changes which took place
around AD 1250 –primarily modifications in settlement patterns, artifact assemblages,
and funerary customs– may be linked to the arrival of the Uacúsechas (p. 137).
In several passages of the Relación the new arrivals in the Zacapu basin appear
to represent a group distinct from the original local population, for they were semi-
nomadic hunters and warriors, clearly distinct from the farming and fishing peoples who
preceded them. Although the Relación tells us that the newcomers exalted their identity
as Chichimecs, the archaeological information gathered led Michelet et al. to argue that
in no way could they be considered ‘nomadic hunter-gatherers lacking expertise in the
details of settled life in the general Mesoamerican style’ (p. 138).
Shortly after AD 1250, thousands of structures were built in the Zacapu Malpaís
(i.e. badlands). This was a sudden, novel process, and the first and only time that this
part of the study territory was inhabited. Without doubt, the ‘quasi-urban’ nature of the
largest settlements was an innovation in the region. This was an act of colonization,
though one that apparently ended quite suddenly when the area was abandoned almost
entirely. There is no ceramic or other archaeological evidence of the last phase of
Tarascan culture here (p. 142).
In Michelet et al.’s opinion, when the Relación speaks of migration as the reason
for profound social changes in the Lake Zacapu region, it is embellishing the truth,
though it is based partially on historical fact. Strictly-speaking, the newly arrived people
were not true Chichimecs –that is to say, hunter-gatherers– but, rather, sedentary
farmers who came from the northern regions of the ecumene. In the Relación, they
appear as a small group, perhaps only one single lineage (the Uacúsecha), but
 475

archaeological evidence suggests there was a more numerous contingent that may have
come from the Lerma River Basin (pp. 150-151).
During the Early Postclassic period (ca. AD 1300) in central Michoacán we see
the appearance of what would become one of the most powerful empires in all of
Mesoamerica: the Tarascan state. According to Pollard (2009), an important
transformation took place during this period among the populations of the central
Michoacán highlands as, for the first time, formerly autonomous communities were
unified politically and the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin became the geographical core of an
expansionist state. Excavations carried out by Pollard (1995, 1996) at Urichu (Figures
202 and 203), an important site in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, have shed new light on
this period and on the processes of state formation in the area. According to Pollard
(2009), between 1000 and 1200 there were 10 autonomous communities in the Basin,
each one internally-stratified and ruled by a small elite (Figure 204). These societies
varied in terms of the size of their populations and territory, as well as with respect to
access to fertile soil (Figure 205) and their degree of economic specialization and
political complexity. At some point during this period, climatic changes made the lake
level rise (Figure 206), probably due to an increase in precipitation and a decrease in
evaporation. As a consequence, the amount of irrigable land was reduced (Pollard 1995:
Table 1). 1
The two settlements in the Basin that were most dependent on irrigable land
were Pátzcuaro and Tzintzuntzan, so the warrior elites of those two centers led their
respective populations in conquests of neighboring settlements to secure for themselves
additional resources and intensify the process of political differentiation between, and
within, these communities. Finally, by ca. AD 1350, all tribute and booty from military
campaigns was flowing towards Tzintzuntzan, and the entire basin was unified under
the political control of that city’s elite (Pollard 1995, 1996, 2009, 2018). Soon
Tzintzuntzan became the capital of the Tarascan Empire (Figure 207).
Although Pollard does not mention Robert Carneiro by name, her hypothesis on
the origin of the Tarascan state in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin may owe something to his
‘ecological circumscription’ hypothesis (Carneiro 1970, 1981, 2011; see Williams and
López 2009:24 for a discussion of Carneiro’s hypothesis as applied to Mesoamerica).
Almost 50 years ago, Carneiro proposed a hypothesis on the origin of state-level
1
Changes in water levels in Lake Pátzcuaro over time have been documented by Sarah O’Hara (1993), among others. O’Hara
discovered that the period between AD 1380 and 1520 was characterized by rising levels associated with wetter climatic conditions,
while during the early post-Conquest period a shift to drier conditions resulted in a drop.
 476

societies, which held that the areas where the first states originated (the valleys of the
Nile, Tigris-Euphrates and Indus Rivers in the Old World, and the Basin of Mexico and
coastal rivers of Peru in the New World), had one characteristic in common: farmland
was a scarce resource that was circumscribed by mountains, seas or deserts that severely
limited the space available for agriculture practiced with traditional techniques, but the
introduction of intensive agriculture allowed villages to grow exponentially until all
agricultural land was occupied, meaning that new terrains had to be modified (by means
of irrigation canals or terraces) in order to be cultivated. The growing demographic
pressure on the land and agricultural infrastructure made war more likely, and the
defeated villages had to pay tribute to the victors, until larger territorial units with a
higher level of political organization than the villages emerged; one that approached a
chiefdom level of sociopolitical complexity. Eventually, a whole river valley or lake
basin became unified under the aegis of a single chiefdom, which would later become a
state (Carneiro 1970:734-736). After a process of sociocultural evolution and adaptation
similar to this, the Tarascans would become one of the major empires of the
Mesoamerican ecumene. Their role as participants in the ecumene during the
Protohistoric period is explored at length in the following chapter.
Based on current archaeological evidence, Pollard (2018) suggests that, unlike
other core regions of Mesoamerica, central Michoacán did not have a long history of
city-states and empires forged during the Classic and Early Postclassic periods. Rather,
Michoacán was somewhat peripheral in political and economic terms to powerful
polities such as Teotihuacan and Tula to the east, and the Teuchitlán tradition to the
west (p. 161). Pollard sees the emergence of the Tarascan state late in the prehistory of
Mesoamerica (fourteenth century AD) in a region where states had never existed
previously, as a case study that ‘has provided us with the opportunity to bring both
archaeological and documentary sources to bear on the topic of pre-Hispanic elite
politics… ruling elites who claim an immigrant Chichimec heritage to justify their
cooption of the native Tarascan nobility, while at the same time presenting themselves
as fully ethnically Tarascans’ (p. 173). Like many other peoples of the late pre-
Conquest period, the Tarascans seem to have ‘materialized the state and its institutions
using ideas, practices, and material culture from the Toltec world of Postclassic Central
Mexico… The interaction of this essential continuity of commoner tradition with a
radical transformation of elite culture affected both commoners and elites and resulted
in a society both similar to and different from other highland Late Postclassic polities’
 477

(p. 173). 2 Tarascan culture during the Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530) will also
be discussed at length in the next chapter.
Jalisco. Recent archaeological research in the Sayula Basin of Jalisco has revealed this
to be one of the most important archaeological regions in West Mexico, if not in the
whole of Mesoamerica (Ramírez et al. 2005; Valdez 1994; Valdez et al. 1996a, 1996b;
Weigand and Weigand 1997). The Sayula Basin Archaeological Project was carried out
jointly by three institutions: the Mexican National Institute of Anthropology and History
(INAH), the Universidad de Guadalajara, and the French Institute of Cooperation for
Scientific Research (Orstom). The general goal of the project was to shed light on
various aspects of human occupation, processes of development and sociocultural
change within the Sayula Lake Basin in ancient times. The research aimed to establish a
cultural-chronological sequence of the different human groups that lived in the region
while simultaneously focusing on the interaction between humans and their physical
environment through the identification of adaptive strategies and exploitation of the
region’s natural resources. The Sayula Basin Archaeological Project thus set out to
explore the relationship between the adequate exploitation of the environment and the
social processes of the ancient inhabitants of the basin (Valdez 1994:25). This
interaction with the natural environment was facilitated by a wide range of tools, such
as awls made of animal bone (Figure 208), and atlatls used in hunting. The latter were
probably made of wood, and only the hand grips made of shell have remained to the
present (Figure 209).
An outstanding site in the region under discussion is La Peña, located in the
Citala Valley on the eastern side of the Lake Sayula Basin, some 60 km from
Guadalajara, Jalisco’s state capital. Ramírez et al. (2005) have interpreted La Peña as
‘one of the hegemonic centers of the Aztatlán horizon’, which has been dated to ca. AD
850-1350 (p. 305). Around that time, there was a change in the pan-regional settlement
pattern of the basin, which may be related to the inception of technological innovations
such as hydraulic works, intensified tobacco exploitation ( suggested by the rise in the
number of clay pipes found), cotton cultivation (also suggested by an increase in the
number of archaeological markers, such as clay spindle whorls), and the acquisition of
sumptuary goods like pearls, turquoise, shells (Figure 210), and pigments, among
others. Also evident is the generalized use of metal objects (bells, ornaments, tools), and

2
An example of the process mentioned by Pollard is seen in the ‘Toltec-inspired’ sculptures found in Michoacán, for instance the
chacmool and zoomorphic altar or throne from Ihuatzio (Williams 1992).
 478

a broad diversification of exchange patterns. According to Ramírez et al., during the

Aztatlán horizon La Peña took part in the advent of a new ‘ideological order’ and new
religious beliefs linked to the rise of the Toltec state in Central Mexico and the Mixteca-
Puebla stylistic tradition of highland central and southern Mesoamerica (p. 306).
Among the new technologies reported for the Early and Middle Postclassic in La
Peña is a series of artifacts, such as ceramic spindle whorls and metal needles and pins,
which may have been linked to activities like spinning yarns and weaving textiles made
of fine cotton (Gutiérrez 2018). These types of artifacts have been reported from many
sites pertaining to the Aztatlán tradition in West Mexico (p. 814).
La Peña is the site where spindle whorls are most abundant in situ in the Lake
Sayula Basin. The corpus of objects linked to textile production here consists of a
ceramic seal or stamp, two pins and eight copper needles, as well as 42 ceramic whorls
of different shapes. Most whorls from La Peña are small, having a total diameter of less
than 30 mm and a weight of less than 10 grams (p. 816). Pollard (2016) has described
small whorls from the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin that, in her view, were used for spinning
cotton thread, while Mary Parsons’ (2005) ethnoarchaeological research in the Valle del
Mezquital, Hidalgo, has shown that small whorls were used for spinning fine yarn
(mostly cotton) and large ones for spinning coarse fibers (i.e. maguey).
In discussing the kinds of fibers likely used at La Peña, Gutiérrez (2018) says
that the Aztatlán people usually settled in places with favorable conditions for cotton
cultivation, while sixteenth-century sources mention that cotton was grown in several
towns of the Lake Sayula Basin, and in neighboring places like Tuxpan and Tamazula
(p. 816). Three of the whorls from La Peña are larger than the others, suggesting that
they may have been used for spinning long fibers from maguey plants. Historical
sources report that the local people used ixtle (i.e. maguey fiber) to make items of
clothing, such as sandals, and that this wild plant abounds near the study area.
Regarding the context of textile production at La Peña, Gutiérrez found that
rooms pertaining to the elite show the greatest concentration of whorls, as well as other
items associated with textile production. A ceramic stamp, probably used to decorate
textiles, was found in an elite context together with needles and pins. This may suggest
that at least some of the textiles included brocade or embroidery work, which would
mean that a large amount of time was devoted to this activity (p. 818). Most of the
whorls were found in elite and commoner domestic contexts, inside areas devoted to
such activities as cooking, traditionally associated with women. In support of this,
 479

ethnohistorical sources also emphasize that textile work was undertaken primarily by
women (p. 819).
Ericka Blanco (2007) reported numerous bone tools from the Lake Sayula Basin
that may have been used as battens (a weaving tool designed to push the weft yarn
securely into place with the back-strap loom) (Figure 211), and as ‘combs’ used to
straighten the yarn during the weaving process (Figure 212). Blanco also reports
several needle-like bone items (Figure 212), similar to the pre-Hispanic weaving tools
found by McCafferty and McCafferty (2008: Figure 12) in Santa Isabel, Nicaragua.
Archaeological survey and excavations in the area around the town of San Juan
Atoyac (on the eastern flank of Lake Sayula), carried out in the early 1990s, discovered
more than 60 sites with abundant pre-Hispanic materials, as well as a similar number of
zones with dispersed evidence of ancient activities. These sites probably reflect the
area’s general settlement pattern, as well as specific activity areas (Valdez 1994:28-29).
It is important to note that the Sayula Basin also holds one of the richest salt
deposits in highland Mesoamerica. In colonial times, and probably earlier as well, salt
was the most important resource in the Basin, though not the only one, for the area also
had copper, gold and silver deposits that may have been exploited before the Spanish
conquest (Valdez and Liot 1994:289). The abundant salt produced in this region was
probably not destined solely for local consumption, but was exported to other areas of
Western Mexico, such as the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Williams 2015, 2018b).
Valdez (1998) tells us that archaeological exploration in the Lake Sayula area
has revealed a very clear pattern in which residential sites alternate with activity areas
throughout the Basin. The earliest residential sites are rather small and scattered over
the lower terraces of the mountains, close to well-irrigated, fertile lands. It is only
towards the end of the Postclassic period that we see evidence of dense, nuclear
settlements on the lakeshore (p. 222). Thus, archaeological sites there are divided into
three basic types: (1) residential areas; (2) areas for specific activities, for example,
domestic workshops; and (3) places for social gatherings and interactions, such as
plazas. Villages had large numbers of residences scattered on the landscape over a wide
area, near quarries or workshops where raw materials were obtained and transformed
(primarily salt procurement and manufacture). The civic and ceremonial centers –
usually associated with the residential areas– are characterized by the presence of
mounds, platforms, terraces, constructions and plazas.
 480

Pre-Hispanic subsistence activities in the Lake Sayula Basin are known thanks to
archaeological, ethnohistorical and ethnographic data, which reveal the existence of a
great quantity and variety of natural resources (Valdez et al. 1996a, 1996b; Valdez and
Liot 1994). The Basin is 35 km long and 20 km wide, encompassing a surface of
roughly 700 km2, with a third consisting of beach environments (Liot and Schondube
2005). This basin is a well-defined geo-morphological complex with a semiarid climate,
cool winters and hot summers, rains in the summer and a dry season lasting seven
months (Liot and Schondube 2005:49, 53). The natural resources there (Figure 213)
may be divided into three categories: (1) minerals, such as soils, clay, rocks, salt and
water; (2) plants, such as wild and cultivated fruits, wood, bark and fibers; and (3)
animals exploited by hunting, fishing and domestication (p. 56).
Because of the prevailing climate, Lake Sayula beach sediments are subject to
seasonal changes. During the rainy season (roughly June-to-October) the aquifer fills
up, sometimes forming a seasonal lake where fishing activities are possible using a fine
net to catch crustacean larvae, insects and small fish. After the fishers take the net out of
the water, the catch is laid down to dry on the beach. Although at present fishing is not
abundant, it seems to have been relatively important in past centuries. Paso y Troncoso
(1905), for example, wrote that fish were plentiful during the wet season. Another
important product was obtained during the dry season: a salty crust that formed around
the lake, called salitre or tequesquite, which is still gathered and used as cattle feed
(Liot and Schondube 2005:57).
Because of the high salinity on the surface of the basin, most of the beach area
lacks plant cover during a good part of the year, though in the rainy season some
halophyte plants grow there, especially romerito (Suaeda torreyana), while in the
southern part of the beach a community of halophyte grains grows in the wet season. In
the dunes on the margins of the beach there is thorny vegetation with cacti like nopal
(Opuntia sp.) and mesquite (Prosopis laevigata), which may have been exploited in
ancient times (pp. 58-59).
The most fertile sector of this Basin is the alluvial plain, where agriculture at
present includes maize, sugarcane, beans, sorghum, and vegetables, as well as cattle-
raising (cows and horses). The area’s natural vegetation consists of sub-tropical scrub
(matorral) with abundant thorny trees. In some areas near the lake’s shore there are
communities of aquatic plants such as tule (rushes, Thypa sp.) and carrizo (reeds,
Scripus sp.), as well as plants of the Graminae family (i.e. grasses). Several animal
 481

species find refuge among these bushes, such as aquatic birds of the Rallidae family
(coots), and migratory species that come during certain parts of the year: pelicans,
divers, geese, ducks, cormorants, storks, kites, marine swallowtails, avocets (waders),
plovers, doves, swallowtails, loggerhead shrikes, thrushes and sparrows. According to
historical sources, the area where the town of Atoyac is located was once covered by a
hard-to-reach marsh area where fishing and hunting were practiced (p. 58-60).
The piedmont in the Lake Sayula Basin is part of the medium-height foothills of
the sierra (1500-1800 m above sea level). Thanks to this area’s mineral riches and the
seasonal presence of numerous water currents and springs, these are fertile lands ideal
for agriculture. The extant tree cover includes several species of fruit trees, such as
guamúchil (Phitecebollium dulce), guava (Psidium guajaba), plum (Spondias sp. and
Prunus sp.), camichines (Phyllanthus emblica), fig (Ficus sp.), thorny bushes (Prosopis
laevigata), huizache (Acacia farnesiana), tepehuaje (Acacia acapulcansis), and cacti
that bear fruits like the nopal (Opuntia sp.) and pitayo (Stenecereus queretaronensis)
(pp. 60-61).
As for the native fauna in the area under discussion, it is just as diverse as the
flora, including small mammals like the armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus), badger
(Bassariscus astutus), possum (Didelphis virginiana), rabbit (Sylvilagus cunicularius),
hare (Lepus californicus), squirrel (Eutamias bulleri), coyote (Canis latrans), and birds
like quail, chachalaca (Ortalis sp.) and wild turkey, though the last two are almost
extinct (p. 61).
In addition to edible plants, many other plant resources were exploited to satisfy
numerous needs. These include medicinal products, building materials, textiles, wood
and other materials used to make tools, or as fuel, and so on. The list of useful plants in
the Lake Sayula Basin is quite large, encompassing over four hundred species (many
with more than one function), 75 of which have indigenous names, 148 of which are
wild, and at least 124 of which are useful. They have been classified as: edible plants
(48), medicines (39), wood sources (11), fibers (8), ornamentals (5), disinfectants (4),
colorants (3), narcotics (3), vessels and accocotes (i.e. gourds used to extract maguey
sap) (3), tannins (2), ritual (2), soap-making (2), for making walking sticks (1), poison
(1), and waterproofing (1) (p. 62). Finally, the hills around the Basin hold many animal
species, including white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) and wild pigs (Dicotyles
tajacu), as well as many smaller mammals similar to the ones mentioned above (p. 63).
 482

The bed of the Sayula Lake is not fit for agriculture, because during the dry
season the water evaporates and salts appear through capillarity on the surface of the
earth, precluding any kind of cultivation. But it is precisely at this time that salt, one of
the Basin’s most important resources, makes its appearance. The natural seasonal
desiccation of the lake permits the gathering of salt-bearing sediments known as
tequesquite that, after a purification process, are transformed into salt (Valdez et al.
1996a:328-329).
Many salt-making locations have been found in the lower part of the Lake
Sayula Basin, known locally as tepalcateras (from tepalcate, or potsherd) and salinas
(cfr. Valdez et al. 1996a: Figure 6) (Figures 214- 216). These sites specialized in the
production of sodium chloride. Apparently, the basins of southern Jalisco (Zacoalco,
San Marcos, Sayula) were ideal places for producing salt, and so supplied surrounding
areas to the south, west and east as far as the Tarascan area of Michoacán. Several
factors favored the growth of salt production to ‘industrial levels’ in this area, such as
its relative abundance in natural deposits, and the Basin’s proximity to the Tarascan
kingdom, and location on a natural corridor to the Pacific coast. However, the salt
market in this region was shared with salt produced in Colima (Valdez et al.
1996b:337). The production of this critical resource was so important for the Lake
Sayula Basin in pre-Hispanic times that Weigand (1996b) wrote, ‘… without studying
the production of salt it would be impossible to understand the economic organization
of this basin’ (p. 16).
Archaeological research in the area under discussion seems to confirm the
strategic role of salt for the Sayula Basin, as well as the area’s active participation in the
trade networks of central-west Mexico. Extant historical sources describe the boiling of
brine produced by leaching or decantation by Sayula salt-makers in the 16th century.
The filters used in the process are not described, but we know that some kind of
filtering, cleansing or decantation was essential in processing salt-bearing sediments,
since the water in the basin is not salty enough to produce salt on its own (Valdez et al.
1996b:337-340). The leaching process relied on many different specialized pottery
types (Figure 217) used inside combustion features (Figure 218).
The Relaciones geográficas from the towns around Lake Sayula have been lost,
but the Relaciones from other localities relatively close to the Basin do mention its
importance as a salt provider. Several towns in the old Tarascan kingdom also reported
the critical role played by Sayula as a supplier of this indispensable trade good,
 483

especially in provinces where it was lacking. The Relación de Zapotlán, for instance,
states that, ‘in this town there are no saltworks, they supply themselves with salt from
Atoyaque and Sayula…’ The Relación de Xiquilpan mentions that salt came from the
Provincia de Ávalos (in central Jalisco), 15 leagues from Xiquilpan (Jiquilpan,
Michoacán). From Tenamaztlán comes the information that this town also obtained
‘loaves’ of white or brown salt from the Provincia de Ávalos. There, each loaf cost
between two-and-a-half and three tomines. 3 Salt was also sent from Atoyac to the town
of Cuiseo, near Poncitlán, in the Lake Chapala Basin (Liot 1995:12-13; Acuña 1987).
Salt production has disappeared from the Sayula Basin. All that remains
nowadays is the gathering of saltpeter used for cattle feed on the plains around
Poncitlán, El Zapote and Cofradía. Large-scale salt production in this area was
abandoned in the 1940s, and physical remains of this industry are rather scarce.
However, the archaeological remains, though not abundant, show many characteristic
traces of this activity from ancient times (Liot 1995:14-15).
The archaeological sites where salt-making is presumed to have taken place are
located around the lake rim, in the north and west parts of the Basin. Most salt-making
localities are characterized by several earthen mounds covered with huge amounts of
eroded potsherds, as well as the occasional presence on the beach of round features also
with abundant potsherds. Throughout the area close to the lake edge one can see
mounds of several shapes and sizes that resulted from the progressive accumulation of
earth after leaching (Liot 1995:16). The predominant feature shared by most of the sites
on the beach is the pottery that may have been used to concentrate the brine.
According to Weigand (1996b), the beach deposits around Lake Sayula were so
rich in salt and salitre that they became the target of attacks by the Tarascans once the
province of Acoliman (Colima) gained its independence from the Tarascan Empire.
Since the Lake Sayula area was a primary salt source for the highlands, and was located
near major population centers, it had an enormous potential for exploitation by the
Tarascans.
Techaluta, an archaeological site in the western part of the lake, is the largest
pre-Hispanic architectural complex in the Lake Sayula Basin that has not been covered
by a modern settlement. Three sections within the site show strong indications of
occupational specialization, such as obsidian workshops, areas with salt evaporation

3
A silver coin used in some parts of Spanish America in Colonial times, according to the Diccionario de la Real Academia
Española. Digital version, accessed 30/4/2019 https://dle.rae.es/?w=diccionario.
 484

bowls (on the beach), and areas for salt production, the latter characterized by huge
concentrations of salt-covered potsherds heaped up in mounds. To the above craft
activities we should add the existence of a significant pottery-making industry that
supplied the salt-makers with the wares required for their work. As stated above, salt
and other strategic resources present in the basin must have been an incentive for
Tarascan expansion within the area (Weigand 1993b:201).
Another outstanding aspect of ancient culture in the area under discussion is the
elaborate burial tradition described by Rosario Acosta (1994). The archaeological
project at Lake Sayula included the excavation of many human burials at the site of San
Juan de Atoyac (Figure 219). According to Acosta, those interments covered an area of
some 570 m2; that is, 38% of the total excavated area. In that zone excavators found 114
burials that occupied four sectors of the site: one in a residential area and the other three
in cemetery areas dominated by the presence of burials. Each one of those four sectors
occupies a well-defined space, so there is no overlap between them (pp. 93-94).
The 114 excavated burials contained a total of 141 individuals. Twenty-two of
them were occupied by several individuals (from two to six). Of the total sample of
interments, 22 had evidence of secondary deposition, while 119 showed primary
deposition. Ninety burials were found in the three cemetery areas, twenty were scattered
around the residential area, and the rest were isolated remains (p. 95). In the residential
sector, excavators found a clear spatial division that may be linked to differences in
social status (p. 104).
In his study of archaeological evidence of Tarascan incursions into the Lake
Sayula Basin, Andrés Noyola (1994) reports that the excavations conducted by the Lake
Sayula Archaeological Project brought to light numerous objects pertaining to Tarascan
culture. These artifacts were part of the offerings and ornaments of several burials
excavated there, and were accompanied by fragments of diagnostic Tarascan material
culture (e.g. potsherds) that were found inside three trash pits. The Tarascan materials
identified here consist primarily of ceramic vessels with spouts (Figure 220) that may
also have a ‘basket’ or ‘stirrup’ handle. Miniature tripod bowls, ceramic pipe fragments,
copper tweezers and bells, obsidian lip plugs and ear flares were also found in the
excavations. Many of these objects are virtually identical to diagnostic Tarascan objects
found in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, the core area of the Tarascan Empire (e.g. Valdez
and Liot 1994).
 485

Noyola (1994:73) says that most of the material identified as Tarascan seems to
have been imported from Michoacán, not local imitations. The presence of Tarascan
materials in association with burials and trash deposits in the ancient dwelling area may
indicate close contact between Tarascan individuals and the native population of the
town of Atoyac, one of the major population centers in the Lake Sayula Basin. The fact
that Tarascan pottery appears in funerary and refuse contexts at Atoyac also strongly
suggests that it was used here by peoples closely-tied to Tarascan culture; that is, either
Tarascan immigrants, peoples of Tarascan descent, or perhaps a local ethnic group with
strong ties to the region and customs of Michoacán.
Ethnohistorical sources indicate that the Sayula region did, indeed, attract the
interest of the Tarascan Empire. The Tarascans may have been interested in widening
their economic base by means of exacting tribute from the towns around Lake Sayula,
and through the intensive exploitation of the area’s strategic resources. As discussed
earlier, a possible explanation of the presence of Tarascans in Sayula is the existence of
vast deposits of salt there. This is all the more likely because salt was not available in
the Tarascan heartland (Pollard 1993; Williams 2015, 2018).
According to sixteenth-century sources the town of Atoyac, one of the most
important native settlements in the basin, apart from being a major salt producer, it also
had an important regional market (Noyola 1994:74). Therefore, the Tarascan remains
found there may pertain to merchants or envoys, who were keen to extract salt and other
key resources and ship them back home.
Recent investigations conducted at the site of Arroyo Piedras Azules on the
northwestern coast of Jalisco (Mountjoy et al. 2016) have revealed much about the
nature and dates of Early Postclassic Aztatlán colonization in this part of the Pacific
coast littoral. Excavations at a habitation site indicate a direct colonization of this site by
people from coastal Nayarit who arrived during the Cerritos phase (ca. AD 1000). They
had elaborate polychrome pottery, spindle whorls, figurines, metal and shell fishhooks,
prismatic obsidian blades and jewelry made of metal, bone, stone and shell. Laboratory
analyses of shell and bone refuse showed a broad-spectrum diet based primarily on
coastal resources. Mountjoy et al. believe that the reason for the colonization of this
area may have been linked to procuring local Spondylus shell for jewelry manufacture.

Colima. The border separating the present-day states of Colima and Jalisco is more an
artifact of contemporary political geography than a real division based on cultural
 486

criteria. This somewhat arbitrary division into modern political-administrative entities

should not be used in a strict sense when trying to discern the pre-Hispanic cultural and
linguistic areas that existed in Mesoamerica, including West Mexico. Therefore, and for
the sake of convenience, we should regard Colima and southern Jalisco as part of one
single ‘cultural province’ in ancient times.

In the Early Postclassic, La Campana –a site we saw in the previous chapter–

was described by Olay (2001b) as an unusual archaeological site, in that it shows
features from Central Mexico as well as its own local cultural tradition. The site was
built in an area where older funerary deposits pertaining to the shaft-tomb tradition had
been laid down. Some of the tombs were re-utilized in a clear example of the use of
sacred spaces as a means of legitimizing political power. The planning of ceremonial
precincts, the presence of spaces reserved for members of the elite, and the utilization of
sacred symbols, all show how the local population was gradually acquiring an ideology
of social stratification. Archaeologists have paid little attention to the Postclassic period
in this part of West Mexico. In this respect, Olay says that the analysis of archaeological
materials, as well as their chronological placement, should some day shed light on the
events and processes that contributed to shaping this outstanding settlement (p. 11).
According to Olay (2012), La Campana had close to 44 structures, each with
distinct characteristics, spread around 14 patios or plazas of different sizes. The site has
elaborate architecture consisting of long rectangular platforms on which several kinds of
buildings were constructed, some with stairways and foundations made of irregular
stones (Figure 221). Sunken patios were delineated by means of rectangular mounds
with courses made of large stones, measuring over 30 m in length. A causeway bounded
by stone banquettes is associated with these areas (p. 93). The architecture at La
Campana is further characterized by round cobblestones (Figure 222), as is the case in
the rest of the Colima Valley.
Olay (2004) also describes an important Postclassic settlement called El Chanal
(Figure 223), located approximately 6 km north of Colima City, on both sides of the
Colima, or Verde, River, which cuts the archaeological site in two, known respectively
as El Chanal Este and El Chanal Oeste (p. 65). Olay writes that, although it is easy to
see that El Chanal was an important settlement in pre-Hispanic times, archaeological
research there has been rather scarce. One of the first scholars to pay attention to the site
was Isabel Kelly, who excavated several stratigraphic pits at Chanal Oeste and obtained
 487

two C-14 dates, one pertaining to the Early Postclassic (AD 1290), and one to the Late
Postclassic (AD 1460) (p. 76).
Archaeological work conducted by Olay (2005) at El Chanal led to the
identification of several clusters of buildings, including ceremonial and domestic
spaces, where the ancient inhabitants left traces of their daily activities. Olay also found
a series of buildings oriented towards the four cardinal directions. Those structures
included mounds, contention walls, and open spaces like patios or plazas (Figure 224).
The architecture in these clusters is often quite simple: rectangular supporting mounds
made of cobblestones and volcanic rocks of different sizes, at times worked on one side.
These mounds seem to have supported rooms made of perishable materials that were
accessed by means of central stairways (p. 36).
Domestic architecture appears to have been quite diverse, changing according to
the level on which each structure was built and in relation to its distance from the
nearest plaza and to the flow of traffic required within each part of the settlement. The
divisions visible inside the houses indicate that different activities may have been
performed in each area. Only two structures could be excavated; the first was an altar,
the second perhaps a domestic workshop devoted to working malachite. Textile
production may also have been undertaken at El Chanal, as suggested by the bone tools
found in Olay’s excavations (Figure 225). Several residential units were excavated in
an area currently dedicated to agriculture, where Olay discovered ten burials directly
associated with living spaces. Olay states that burials were usually located inside the
houses at El Chanal (p. 37).
Olay (2001) writes that a new group of people arrived at the foothills of the
Colima volcanoes from Central Mexico around AD 1100. These newcomers had a
cultural baggage closely-linked to the Toltecs. Thanks to their warlike customs, as well
as their commercial skills, they quickly subjected the local population. By means of
ideological control (i.e. religion) and military domination, the new groups imposed an
economic structure that fostered the production of trade goods, as well as the control of
trade networks (p. 11). El Chanal’s artistic tradition includes figures sculpted in stone,
such as Tlaloc (Figure 226), and others made of clay (Figures 227-228). Many deities
and religious features represented at El Chanal are of local origin, while others may
have come from Central Mexico and nuclear Mesoamerica.
Von Winning (1996) describes a unique kind of clay figure from El Chanal
(Figure 229), which depicts a seated personage with realistic attributes. The following
 488

description is based on Von Winning (1996:383-386), who wrote that in Mexican folk
art there is a round seat called equipal, consisting of a woven surface supported by
crisscrossed twigs or reeds joined at the bottom by a ring made of wood. The shape and
building techniques of the equipal reported by von Winning (1996) come from the
Huichol Indians of Nayarit, who have kept their ancient traditions for centuries in their
isolated mountain territory. Equipales were already in use before the Spaniards arrived
in Mexico, and the name of the chair is derived from the Nahuatl word icpalli. The
Mendoza Codex (ca. 1541-1542) shows low and flat seats, woven of carrizo reeds with
high backs. These seats were reserved for the lords, while the teoicpalli (god’s seat) was
used exclusively by the gods (perhaps deity impersonators or sacred figures).
Several clay figures of the kind mentioned above have been interpreted by von
Winning (1996) as chieftains or lords because they are seated on icpallis, which were
symbols of power in Mesoamerica, as stated above. We might assume that it is unlikely
that they were gods or priests, but perhaps social or political leaders, because of the lack
of religious paraphernalia or divine attributes in the sculptures.
In 1945, Vladimiro Rosado explored El Chanal, stating (1948) that ‘the area has
many monuments, but the resources at my disposal were limited, so I could only
explore one mound, which turned out to be quite interesting… because of its…
architecture with four different sides, and because of a beautiful hieroglyphic stairway
with four stairs and 30 sculpted motifs (Figure 230) which are among the few items of
their kind known in ancient Mexico’ (p. 72). Rosado also stated that in several of these
motifs ‘one can see influence from the Toltec and Aztec styles’, including
representations of Tlaloc and Ehecatl.
Kelly (1985) conducted one of the few studies of pre-Hispanic metallurgy in
Colima. She says that there are 16th-century references to gold in the Colima area, so
there is a good case for early Spanish settlement there because of that valuable mineral.
In fact, the Spanish town of Colima was established in 1523, just a few years after
Cortés’ arrival in Mexico. Kelly recounts how ‘the famous gold mines of Motines del
Oro (near the coast, in modern Michoacán) were worked from Colima, and exploitation
of the native population in connection with mining was a major cause of its near
extermination within a few decades after the first Spanish occupation’ (p. 153). A little
gold is mined in Colima even today, and new claims continue to be registered from time
to time. Some of the gold comes from placer mining, but extraction from large open pits
also takes place (pp. 153-154).
 489

Substantial silver deposits existed in modern Jalisco, not far from the boundary
with the present state of Colima. It is likely that all metal artifacts from Colima date
from Postclassic times, and that most of the precious metals came from the western part
of the El Chanal site, in a gold-yielding cemetery that may have been discovered around
1964. It is an open, plaza-like area, roughly 45 by 75 m, bounded on three sides by low
mounds that seem partly artificial and partly natural. Kelly found one copper bell there.
The gold-yielding cemetery had been extensively vandalized by the time Kelly
arrived, so it is difficult to estimate the amount of gold that might have been looted. The
metal artifacts disappeared as rapidly as they came to light, as did the pottery. The
ceramics that accompanied the metal objects seem to have been unusually elaborate
specimens, and Kelly reports ‘Plumbate vessels in private collections, attributed to El
Chanal… quite likely… [they] came from West Chanal’ (p. 155). Plumbate pottery, of
course, suggests Early Postclassic Tula, but according to Kelly ‘at the moment, metal in
Colima cannot be placed more specifically than within the local equivalent of the
Postclassic’ (p. 155). For Kelly, the whole issue of El Chanal cemeteries and burials
was quite complex. She described ‘several cemeteries –all sacked– in West Chanal. One
resident of the Ejido of El Chanal [explained] the situation, [saying that] large numbers
of graves are found in some of the artificial mounds, these are not accompanied by
offerings… [in other cases] extended burials usually face up with the head to the east’
(p. 155). Offerings were usually found on one side of the head or the other, and large
clay figures were associated with the extended burials.
Many of the gold and silver objects described by Kelly bear a clearly
Mesoamerican symbolism. For example, she (1985: Figure 6.1) shows gold earrings
from El Chanal in a private collection that depict a ‘fire-serpent motif’, while flat disks
of gold with repoussé decoration show ‘solar’ motifs (Kelly 1985: Figures 6.3 and 6.4).
Kelly (p. 165) described a pair of ornaments from West Chanal with elaborate embossed
decoration in the shape of a serpent head with ‘exaggerated treatment of eyes and
dentition [that] suggests the god Tlaloc’ (1985: Figure 6.5), adding that ‘the general
effect is Mesoamerican’. She then compares the gold figure to others from Monte Albán
(p. 157).
Nayarit and Sinaloa. In the Postclassic period, Nayarit saw the advent of a new era of
florescence, marked by a heightened level of interaction with the rest of Mesoamerica.
This is seen most clearly in the spread of the Aztatlán tradition over much of the area
covered by the modern states of Jalisco, Nayarit and Sinaloa. According to Gabriela
 490

Zepeda (1994), the Teuchitlán tradition disappeared in Nayarit around AD 600-650, and
a new tradition took its place. New types of archaeological material lead us to believe
that this new tradition was linked to other regions of Mesoamerica. The presence of
‘foreign’ ceramic styles and new technological elements, such as metallurgy, indicates
that the region underwent profound cultural changes. This new culture in Nayarit and
Sinaloa is called Aztatlán. In some places, it persisted until AD 1200 or perhaps even
until the Spanish Conquest around 1530 (pp. 28-31). We know of few temples or other
buildings associated with the Postclassic period, and they all appear to have been
dedicated to the cult of Mesoamerican deities such as Ehécatl-Quetzalcoatl (Figure
231), Mictlantecuhtli, Xipe Totec, and Tlaloc.
Zepeda sees the period known as Ixtlán Medio (ca. AD 900-1300) as a time of
growth and consolidation at Los Toriles (Figure 232), while the Mesoamerican
tradition in the region reached its peak and in some areas persisted until the arrival of
the Spanish. The Aztatlán tradition at Los Toriles and in the rest of Nayarit is expressed
by a new form of architecture and town planning; one that incorporated such features as
columns, porticos, plazas, patios and altars (p. 37).
Craft specialization increased at Los Toriles during this period, particularly in
the elaboration of obsidian artifacts, as shown by the proliferation of specialized
workshops. This period is also linked to high population growth and, consequently, an
increase in the size of the town, which covered up to 80 hectares of an extensive area of
terraces built on hillsides. The pre-Hispanic settlement at Los Toriles had an elite area
occupied by palaces and temples, on the eastern and northern parts of the site (Figure
233). In addition to Los Toriles, Amapa is another site in Nayarit where one can see the
new tradition of architecture that flourished in the Early Postclassic (Figure 234).
Ceramic analysis identified several types that are exclusive to Ixtlán, while
others were associated with the cultures of Guasave, Culiacán and Chametla (Sinaloa)
and Autlán (Jalisco), all pertaining to the Aztatlán tradition (p. 48). Grosscup (1976)
studied the pottery excavated at Amapa, Nayarit. One of the types defined is called
Botadero Incised, a polychrome ware characterized by thinly-slipped, well-polished
surfaces with designs both geometric and representational, commonly frets, circles and
diagonals. Representational designs usually appear to portray feathered creatures or
objects, which are the key attributes of the Aztatlán Complex as defined by Kelly and
others. Botadero Incised bowls bear an incised white band on the outside that is
 491

highlighted by red lines and bordered at the base with a red checkerboard design (p.
228).
Another Postclassic ceramic type at Amapa is Cerritos Polychrome, with vessel
forms that include jars or ollas, low bowls with straight to slightly in-sloping walls,
compotes (tall, ring-based vessels), and molcajetes. Cerritos Polychrome and Gavilán
Polychrome are the most colorful wares from Amapa. Decorations are usually very
complex, as the designs were first outlined with incisions and then filled in with color,
usually dark red, rose or white. Finer details were then rendered either by incisions or
with black, white or red paint. Some of the pieces resemble cloisonné work. Designs are
both geometric and representational, with feathers a common occurrence, but it is not
clear whether these are parts of bird designs, feathered serpents, headdresses, or all
three, since most figures are incomplete and appear only on fragments. Cerritos
Polychrome resembles a number of wares found in Chametla, Culiacán and Guasave,
Sinaloa, which are discussed briefly below.
We saw in Chapter II that Sauer and Brand (1932) first used the term ‘Aztatlán’
to refer to a culture area on the coastal plain of southern Sinaloa and northern Nayarit,
but they also applied it to a collection of sherds found in the area. This ‘Aztatlán ware’
included a wide variety of painted and incised ceramics, though Kelly (1938) restricted
the term to bowls with a red rim and a white band with incised geometric motifs
(Grosscup 1976:248). The discovery of Aztatlán material at Amapa by Grosscup and
others sheds some light on the problem of the origin of the Aztatlán complex. Ekholm
(1942) had hypothesized that the widespread occurrence of this archaeological
‘complex’ or ‘horizon’ was due to either migration from the Mixteca-Puebla area or a
religious movement that spread from that area. Since the time of Ekholm’s discussion,
reports have appeared which show examples of the Mixteca-Puebla style over a wide
area that spans Tampico (Tamaulipas), central Veracruz and the Lake Chapala Basin in
Michoacán, among others. Clearly, not all these manifestations are due to migration
from the Mixteca-Puebla area. Grosscup concluded that diffusion from a common
center would appear to be much more reasonable, especially if religion was involved,
and concluded with these words: ‘In addition, the existence can now be seen… of a
gradual development of the so-called Aztatlán complex… at Amapa… so that Aztatlán
can no longer be thought of as appearing abruptly in western Mexico’ (p. 250).
Von Winning (1996) analyzed the decoration of three jars from the Amapa-
Peñitas (Nayarit) region, which are housed in private collections (with no information
 492

on archaeological context or provenience). The decoration on the three vessels depicts

rites and figures in the style of the codices of the Borgia group. The pots are attributed
to the Iguanas Polychrome type, pertaining to the Early Postclassic (12th and 13th
centuries) (p. 433). The first vessel shows four individuals of high rank (perhaps deities
or priests, see von Winning 1966: Figure 317), while the second (Figure 235) deals
with ritual scenes probably linked to Ce-Acatl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl, Tula’s hero. The
third vessel (von Winning 1996: Figure 322) shows a complex representation of a
secular scene with a systematic arrangement of several couples that are related to
Mesoamerican pulque ceremonies. The designs are strongly-influenced by the
iconographic system of the Mexican highlands, as expressed in the codices of the
Borgia group and Cholulteca polychrome ceramics, which were adapted to the artistic
patterns of ancient Nayarit. The result is a mixture of styles that makes it difficult to
interpret figures and concepts, because of the substitution and elimination of diagnostic
attributes that originated in the central Mexican highlands (p. 442).
The designs painted on these pots undoubtedly were performed by specialized
artists with a thorough knowledge of Mesoamerican iconography; perhaps even by
codex painters from Cholula itself. In fact, the scenes suggest that they were copied
from codices that may have existed in Nayarit, but have since disappeared. Von
Winning ends his article by saying that his comments ‘should be considered as a first
attempt to interpret designs on pottery that can be regarded as true pages taken from
pre-Hispanic codices’ (p. 443). In another study, von Winning (1996) deals with a
collection of 60 ceramic vessels, several potsherds, an alabaster vessel and 20 copper
bells, all discovered in a mound northwest of Tepic, Nayarit, near the San Pedro River
at Las Peñitas (not far from Tuxpan, Nayarit). The mound in question had a diameter of
roughly 6.10 m and sloped towards the river. The excavation was performed by local
looters, who found six large clay jars approximately 45 cm in diameter placed in a semi-
circular position at a depth of 60-90 cm below the mound’s surface. Those pots held
human remains, and an alabaster effigy-vessel was found in one of them together with
20 copper bells. Apparently, the mound had been constructed to receive several
secondary burials (p. 451).
Human burials inside pots have been reported from Guasave, on the northern
limits of the Aztatlán complex, where they were usually found near the surface.
Sometimes a large bowl was placed upside down to cover the mouth of the pot. The
collection from Peñitas reported here has fragments of one –perhaps two– of these
 493

bowls used as lids. We also know of burials in pots from Culiacán and Chametla, both
located north of Nayarit (discussed below) (p. 452).
The most remarkable features of the Peñitas collection can be summarized thus:
ceramic jars with concave base, bowls with red rim, red-on-orange bowls with cross
motifs, molcajetes (i.e. grinding bowls) with pedestal supports, incised bowls with
bichrome and polychrome decoration, lacquer polychrome with paint overlay, copper
bells, burials inside pots, and two unique finds: an incised clay plaque and an
anthropomorphic alabaster vessel (p. 456). Von Winning identified several of these
features as part of the Aztatlán complex and, in reality, it is highly-likely that they
belong to this cultural tradition, which had a wide distribution along the coast of West
Mexico, extending from Guasave (Sinaloa) in the north to the coast of Nayarit and the
Grande de Santiago River, and penetrating all the way into the hilly terrain around
Ixtlán del Río in the south.
The broad geographical distribution of the Aztatlán complex could mean that it
had a long period of diffusion of its main features. In Sinaloa, this complex existed
around AD 1350, and since it presumably appeared at the same moment in Ixtlán, we
can assume that the same date would apply to the Peñitas finds discussed here (p. 456).
Scott and Foster (2000) contributed to the interpretation of the Peñitas pottery
assemblage. They believe that there are ‘many elemental and design pattern similarities
between the Peñitas materials and those of Central Mexico, especially Cholula. A
collection thought to have been looted from Peñitas reportedly included copper bells…
and several ceramic conch shells similar to some found at Teotihuacan’ (p. 125).
Moving to the north of Nayarit, we see that archaeological projects in the
modern state of Sinaloa have been few and far between. Cynthia Vidal (2018) set out to
define the general characteristics of archaeological sites in the Culiacán Valley, in
central Sinaloa, near the confluence of the Culiacán, Tamazula and Humaya Rivers.
Although at first glance archaeological sites around Culiacán are few and lacking in
monumentality compared to other regions in Mesoamerica, Vidal’s study discovered
156 settlements in the Valley of Culiacán, including surface concentrations of materials,
mounds, shell middens, rock art locations, funerary sites, settlements with masonry
architecture, and mixed settlements (that is to say, sites that combined several of the
criteria identified above) (p. 90). Vidal’s research on landscape archaeology in the
Culiacán Valley was designed to explore relations between human beings and the
environment in the Tres Ríos (Three Rivers) area in pre-Hispanic times. This was
 494

achieved through the analysis of environmental characteristics and archaeological data.

Vidal was able to identify three different ‘ancient life worlds’, each one associated with
a distinct ecological environment: (1) the coast of the Pacific Ocean; (2) the alluvial
plain; and (3) the western foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental. Each one of these
environments presents its own characteristics, and can be sub-divided into distinct
cultural-ecological areas. In the ‘world of the coast’, for example, we find shell-midden
sites located in wetlands and lagoons. There is a transitional area where archaeological
sites show features of both the coast and the alluvial plain. In that area, settlement
patterns are somewhat dispersed, and it appears that the people who lived there
subsisted primarily by exploiting the sea, although they also consumed agricultural
products brought from neighboring areas (p. 237).
The ‘world of the plain’ is distinguished by the existence of ‘mixed sites’ formed
by concentrations of materials and burials in funerary urns. These sites are the remains
of towns on the alluvial plain that had a nucleated settlement pattern. In some cases, we
see the remains of ceremonial spaces near the living areas. According to Vidal, the
communities that thrived on the alluvial plain were primarily farmers, and
archaeological evidence such as seashells, obsidian and copper, as well as decorated
pottery, points towards the existence of close relations with neighboring areas (p. 238).
In the last of the ‘ancient worlds’, the foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental,
there are many ancient sites with petroglyphs and masonry architecture, as well as
surface concentrations of archaeological materials. Most of the settlements are located
on the river plains near the abundant water courses. Based on analyses of the
environment and extant archaeological data, Vidal suggests that the inhabitants of the
sierra may have performed seasonal agriculture, but also relied on hunting, fishing and
gathering wild resources. On the basis of archaeological, ethnohistorical and
ethnographic information, Vidal sees all three areas as interacting in a meshwork of
relations whereby the whole Three Rivers study area constituted a living landscape that
gave cohesion to different aspects of the life and culture of all the people who lived
here.
Some 70 years before Vidal carried out her fieldwork in the Culiacán Valley,
Kelly (1945) had reported on several archaeological traits of the area. She informed us
that smoking pipes were a common occurrence at Aztatlán sites, like the items from
Culiacán, Sinaloa shown here (Figure 236). Based on the abundance of smoking
materials, one could suggest that tobacco was an important crop during the Aztatlán
 495

horizon. Kelly also found numerous spindle whorls pertaining to the Aztatlán tradition
around Culiacán, which led her to believe that cotton agriculture and textile production
were probably among the mainstays of the Aztatlán domestic economy. Finally, she
recovered numerous tools from her excavations at Culiacán that were probably linked to
basket-making and textile production, since both of these activities were very important
for the Aztatlán people and others in the Postclassic. Some of the artifacts were made of
deer antler, others of unidentified animal bone (Figure 237).
Kelly (2008) found many funerary urns in Culiacán. These vessels varied
somewhat in size and shape, but the basic type can be described as an elongated sphere
with an obtuse point at the bottom and the mouth at the opposite end. Usually, a plain
inverted bowl was placed as a lid over the mouth of the urn (Figure 238). Both urns and
lids consist of coarse utilitarian pottery made with rough paste. Most of the urns are red,
but this color seems to be the natural color of the clay after burning, not the result of a
red slip (p. 192). Human bones were deposited inside the urn following a fixed pattern:
the flesh was eliminated before burial, and the smallest bones from the hands, wrists,
ankles and feet, were inserted into the skull through the foramen magnum.
The urns reported by Kelly (p. 193) were usually buried shallowly in a context
of refuse materials; in fact, some were virtually on the surface. Three examples were
found that apparently had received special treatment during the burial ceremony. In
these cases, the urns were carefully deposited in pits that had been made with great care
in virgin soil. Kelly says that over 80% of the skeletons found in the urns were adults,
while just 70% of children received this kind of burial. Babies were buried directly in
the earth, while adolescents received the same treatment as adults (p. 194).
A recent study conducted by Gerardo Valenzuela and Victor Santos (2018) at
Loma del Tecomate, near Chametla, Sinaloa, consisted of an archaeological salvage
project that began with the excavation of a unit measuring 4x3 meters. Pre-Hispanic
remains were plentiful at the site, consisting primarily of offerings such as
anthropomorphic figurines and clusters of bowls and plates. An alignment of stones was
also discovered, suggesting the presence of an ancient wall (p. 72). Among the most
important archaeological finds at Chametla are funerary urns; that is, clay pots
containing skeletal remains like the ones from Culiacán mentioned above. This practice
has also been reported in Nayarit, and at many sites in Sinaloa apart from Chametla.
During the 2016 field season at Loma del Tecomate, seven funerary urns were
discovered in the west and southwest extensions of an excavation unit begun in 2014.
 496

An additional seven burials were found later, but those bodies had been laid down
directly in the earth. Both the urn and direct burials were associated with an
architectural structure, emphasizing the ceremonial importance that this area near
Chametla had in pre-Hispanic times. Many additional finds of funerary urns have been
recorded in the area around Loma del Tecomate, as well as in two neighboring sites
called Loma del Padre and Loma del Panteón. It would appear that the whole area
pertains to a single archaeological deposit, consisting of a ceremonial center dedicated
to funerary activities. The urns in question may date to the Tierra del Padre phase (ca.
AD 250-500) (p. 73). Several objects have been found inside the urns, apart from the
human remains: miniature vessels, anthropomorphic figurines made of clay, and bone
remains of rodents and marine organisms such as vertebrae and spines of fish of the
Carangidae and Labridae families. Also reported was a mollusk shell, probably a
species of the Chamidae family (p. 73).
The Aztatlán Tradition. According to Mountjoy (1990), Aztatlán was the most
widespread ‘archaeological culture’ in Western Mexico, and was associated with the
development and spread of advanced technologies, such as metallurgy, and the
production of obsidian prismatic blades, as well as ceramic pipes and spindle whorls.
The decoration of pottery vessels with “codex-style” designs, the presence of Plumbate
pottery, and the use of Mazapa-style figurines indicate links with the Postclassic
cultures of the central-Mexican highlands (p. 543). The Aztatlán complex has been
dated to ca. AD 800-1400 and diagnostic materials pertaining to it have been found in
the modern states of Sinaloa, Nayarit, Jalisco and Michoacán, as well as in areas as far
away as Durango, Chihuahua and New Mexico (Mountjoy 1990:542, 1994b).
In his discussion of the Aztatlán tradition along the coast of West Mexico,
Mountjoy (2000) states that at least one ceremonial or civic center pertaining to that
tradition was erected in every large coastal river valley between the northern coast of
Jalisco and northern Sinaloa, as well as in strategic places along the communication and
trade routes in numerous highland areas inland. Many of the major settlements were
accessible by boat following the rivers that connected the coast to the inland region (p.
95). More than 24 C-14 dates are available for Aztatlán deposits on the west coast,
ranging from AD 883 to 1400. Likewise, there are 280 obsidian hydration
determinations associated with Aztatlán ceramic materials that cover a time span
between AD 520 and 1664 (p. 96).
 497

Mountjoy sees many Aztatlán sites dominating large areas of fertile and humid
river alluvium. This would suggest the existence of extensive floodplain agriculture
along the Pacific coast (i.e., in Nayarit, Jalisco and Colima) at this time. These rich
farmlands may have been dedicated to cotton cultivation in many of the coastal river
valleys, and this plant was probably spun to produce yarn for woven clothing for the
elites. Cacao was another strategic crop that may have been grown in the area under
discussion. As we know, cacao beans served as a kind of ‘currency’ used as a medium
of exchange in Mesoamerica, so it may have been a ‘cash crop’ that circulated in coastal
valleys –as well as inland– during the Aztatlán period, and persisted in some areas until
Conquest times, along with other important crops, including tobacco.
The domestic economy of the Aztatlán period can be analyzed thanks to the
abundant remains of subsistence activities and household production. The large
quantities of grindstones, comales (pottery griddles for making tortillas), and grater
bowls or molcajetes, for example, shed light on the items that may have formed part of
the local diet, such as maize, squash, beans and chili peppers, during Aztatlán times.
Mountjoy points out that sea mollusks, such as oysters, were very important in coastal
areas during the time under discussion. Oyster meat, perhaps preserved by salting, may
have been an important trade commodity between coastal and inland populations (p.
96). Another important component of the economic structure of the Aztatlán tradition of
the southern Pacific coast is the participation of the region’s peoples in a pan-Aztatlán
distribution system of prismatic blades and cores made of the finest obsidian. The main
source of the high-quality obsidian that was traded there was the area around La Joya, in
the highlands near Guadalajara, Jalisco. In Mountjoy’s opinion, La Joya may have
provided obsidian for many Aztatlán settlements along the coast of West Mexico (p.
97).
Copper, silver and gold production also seems to have thrived within the
Aztatlán tradition, where metalsmiths specialized in producing copper ornaments such
as bells and plaques, as well as small utilitarian tools like needles. According to
Mountjoy, some of the metal objects found along the coast were excavated in the same
context as Mazapan-like pottery figurines, so the metal objects can be dated towards the
Early Postclassic period. This is strengthened by the appearance of Aztatlán-related
decorated pottery associated with some metal finds. During Aztatlán times, Amapa was
an outstanding place for the production of jewelry made of shell. Several workshops at
this site also produced luxury items in addition to working shells, such as carved beads
 498

and spindle whorls made of exotic stone, probably serpentine found in the nearby hills
(p. 98).
In his discussion of sociopolitical organization and ritual on the coast of West
Mexico, Mountjoy (p. 98) mentions the presence of major Aztatlán centers in many
large coastal valleys, associated with large villages with monumental architecture
consisting of platform mounds, plazas and ball courts. In his opinion, all these features
may indicate a strong centralized political control at least in some areas along the coast.
The idea of a unified system of political, economic and religious organization linking
the coastal valleys is further suggested by the distribution of diagnostic ceramic styles
and high-quality obsidian products, as well as copper manufacture. Burials at Amapa
and other nearby sites suggest a certain degree of sociopolitical or economic ranking
among some individuals and communities.
Ball courts that may belong to the Aztatlán tradition have been reported from
Amapa by Meighan (1976). Those courts appear in association with monumental
platforms made of earth and cobblestones, which may have supported civic or religious
buildings. In addition to monumental architecture, another feature that would link
Amapa with central and southern Mesoamerica is a certain type of decorated pottery.
According to Mountjoy (2000), the most elaborate decoration on Aztatlán pottery in this
region includes iconographic clusters of quintessential Mesoamerican identity,
including designs from the codices, such as feathered serpents, a long-nosed ‘earth
monster’ armed with obsidian knives, and feathered headdresses. Some burials also
included ceramic censers, which may have been used in funerary rituals, recalling those
from the Toltec tradition. Mountjoy says that most of the figurines found in Aztatlán
archaeological contexts at Amapa were mold-made in the Mazapan style, and so also
linked to the Toltecs.
In discussing the relationship between West Mexico and the Toltec culture,
Mountjoy says that a considerable amount of Plumbate pottery was found at Amapa,
associated with Aztatlán ceramics, while a few sherds of Plumbate ware have been
reported from the Banderas Valley in Nayarit. Plumbate pottery, of course, is
synonymous with Toltec culture, and is found throughout the Mexican highlands,
though it may have been manufactured in southeastern Mesoamerica. Mazapan
figurines are also linked to Toltec culture, and have been found in many sites along the
Pacific coast, including Amapa and Ixtapa (p. 100).
 499

Kelley (2000), meanwhile, writes about a trade route that originated in the
Valley of Mexico as early as the Classic period, followed the Lerma River, traversed the
Bajío, and reached all the way to Nayarit, with another branch that stretched to the
Tomatlán River (Jalisco) and along the Pacific coast to Nayarit (Figure 239). This
branch was incorporated into the Aztatlán trade system at an early date (p. 142), but that
trade system was interrupted in the Lake Chapala area around AD 1450-1500, when
Tarascan expansionism cut off its main routes (p.153).
Foster (1999) reminds us of Sauer and Brand’s (1932) description of local
variations among archaeological materials along the northwest section of the Pacific
coast. Their work was pioneering for several reasons. Not only were they the first
scholars to conduct archaeological research on the northwest coast of Mexico, but they
also recognized the area’s importance as a zone of pre-Hispanic cultural development.
In fact, their recognition of the Aztatlán phenomenon laid the foundations for
addressing the nature of regional and pan-regional interaction and cultural development
among the cultures of northwest Mexico and adjacent areas. Likewise, Sauer and Brand
were among the first to recognize the west coast as a major land route for cultural
exchange between Mesoamerica and the American Southwest.
Shortly after Sauer and Brand’s seminal work, Kelly (1938) excavated in the
Chametla area, dividing the occupation there into four complexes, two of which
predated the Aztatlán-related materials. Items associated with the two late complexes
include smoking pipes, large incised spindle whorls, and slab figurines, all made of
fired clay. At around the same time, Ekholm (1942) excavated a burial mound at
Guasave (Figure 240), where he recovered a variety of ceramic, shell and metal
artifacts, as well as ground, chipped and carved stone artifacts from a large burial
mound. The richness and elaborate nature of this collection clearly demonstrated that
the Aztatlán phenomenon was more complex and elaborate than initially proposed by
Sauer and Brand. Another reason why Ekholm’s work is important to us is that he
recognized, early on, the links between the Guasave materials and central Mexican
cultures (Figure 241). Ekholm (1942) listed 44 traits identified at Guasave that may
have been derived from those cultures, several of which were linked to the Mixteca-
Puebla tradition. He even went so far as to suggest the idea that Mixteca-Puebla peoples
had migrated into the Guasave area (Foster 1999:152).
Kelly also excavated at Culiacán. As mentioned above, she divided the
archaeological sequence into four complexes. Although Aztatlán materials were not
 500

abundant in the Culiacán area, Kelly did find evidence of a “pure” Aztatlán component
(Figures 242-246). Thus, the work done in the 1930s along Mexico’s northwestern
coast resulted in the definition of three major cultural provinces: Guasave, Culiacán and
Chametla. The occupational sequences developed for these three areas partially overlap
and fall within the Classic and Postclassic periods (p. 152).
Clearly the Aztatlán phenomenon was a widespread cultural tradition. The
Aztatlán ‘heartland’ included the west coast from northern Sinaloa to southern Jalisco
and into the highlands of Jalisco, Nayarit and northern Michoacán. Its maximum sphere
of influence included the highlands of Durango and perhaps the Casas Grandes valley of
Chihuahua (p. 157). This tradition appears to have evolved out of the red-on-buff
ceramic assemblage that preceded it in most areas of west and northwest Mexico.
Perhaps as central Mexican influences and contact expanded in west and northwest
Mexico, and as these areas evolved sociopolitically and economically, central Mexican
traits and influences were molded and shared by local cultures, producing the
manifestation known as the Aztatlán tradition (pp. 157-158). In some areas of western
and northwestern Mesoamerica, the Aztatlán tradition was the most fully-developed and
complex cultural entity ever achieved, characterized by a pan-regional exchange system
through which goods and ideas flowed into and out of West Mexico.
Foster (1999) argues that the Aztatlán phenomenon should be considered a
tradition; that is, ‘a persistent cultural pattern identified by characteristic artifact forms
or styles... the basic and primary persistent cultural pattern takes the form of related
stylistic design elements and patterns found in the ceramic assemblages’ (p. 158). The
word ‘tradition’ has been used by many authors without a proper definition. The most
straightforward definition comes from Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary: ‘The word
“tradition” comes from the Latin traditio, meaning: (1) the action of handing over…
[or] the handing down of information, beliefs, and customs, by word of mouth or by
example from one generation to another without written instruction, (2) an inherited
pattern of thought or action (as a religious practice or a social custom), (3) cultural
continuity in social attitudes and institutions’ (Webster’s 1977:1238).
In his discussion of the Aztatlán mercantile system, Kelley (2000) was
concerned with the cultural or ethnic movements that took place primarily during the
Postclassic along the West Coast and highland Durango routes. Kelley’s main interest
lay not only in tracing the development of the Aztatlán mercantile system and clarifying
the part it played in this cultural and economic expansion, but also in exploring the
 501

cultural processes involved over time. Kelly’s discussion is based on archaeological

data with support from ethnohistorical sources, including data on mobile traders derived
from Lumholtz’s description of Tarascan porters or huacaleros 4 who, as late as 1895,
were still carrying on extensive short- and long-distance trade on foot (p. 137).
Lumholtz questioned two of those traders at length, and his writings on the subject
provide valuable data regarding the load and days’ travel of mobile traders, which
turned out to be much larger and farther than the speculations of some archaeologists
would have us believe. An important insight derived from Lumholtz’s account is that
the huacaleros did not ‘consume’ the commodities they carried; rather, they lived off
the land and local hospitality, which means that long-distance travel by mobile traders,
using porters, in Postclassic times was entirely feasible (p. 138). Indeed, archaeological
data indicate the existence of many such long-distance trade routes in the Classic period
between Teotihuacan and Kaminaljuyú, and between Tula and Central America in the
Postclassic (p. 138).
Kelley suggested that as Mesoamerica expanded in population and area, frontier
settlements appeared on the ecological and cultural interfaces between ‘civilized’ and
‘Chichimec’ peoples. Such settlements represent the ‘gateway communities’ 5 of mobile
traders, who were most effective in working out of these peripheral Mesoamerican
towns and penetrating into the unknown territory beyond the frontier, forming a
complex market network and targeting areas of surplus commodities and other valuable
goods for exploitation (p. 139).
Following Sauer and Brand’s (1932) study, Kelley (2000) wrote of the existence
of an extensive cultural and geographic corridor with considerable historical depth and
an environmental base. This was a veritable ‘great highway’ in northwestern New Spain
that stretched from Central Mexico all the way to the US Southwest by way of the
coastal lowlands of northwest Mexico.
At the time of Spanish contact, the Jalisco-Nayarit-Sinaloa coastal strip was
heavily-populated and large towns such as Aztatlán and Culhuacán (Culiacán)
controlled many smaller towns and villages. There were markets in all the towns, but
the one in Culhuacán was especially large. Cotton was grown throughout the region,

4
This word derives from huacal, a woven container made of reeds, wood and similar materials, used by porters in conjunction with
the mecapal, or tumpline.
5
The term ‘gateway community’ refers to large, important settlements that emerged at strategic locales along natural trade routes,
and served to control the flow of goods and commodities (Hirth 1978).
 502

and, according to 16th-century historical sources, cotton textiles were sold in the
markets.
As discussed earlier, the presence of numerous ceramic spindle whorls at
Aztatlán culture sites suggests the importance of spinning cotton (Figure 247). Cotton
clothing was highly-regarded throughout Mesoamerica, and the coastal region of
Jalisco, Nayarit and Sinaloa was a rich source for this commodity, which was in great
demand in the trade structure. Smoking pipes were likewise very abundant in most
Aztatlán sites. They were surely used for smoking tobacco, though there are no
conclusive data to support this statement. Pipes themselves became a new item in
Mesoamerican trade, and their use spread rapidly in the Postclassic, when tobacco may
have become a new product in high demand (perhaps just as addictive in the past as it is
today). At about AD 800-900, metallurgy (copper, bronze and gold) appeared in West
Mexico, and the Jalisco-Nayarit-Sinaloa strip became a route for its diffusion
throughout the ecumene.
The distribution of metallurgy in northwestern Mexico appears to have
corresponded roughly to the distribution of Aztatlán mercantile system sites (and to
Tarascan sites as well). Metallurgy spread quickly through West Mexico and most of
Postclassic Mesoamerica, and eventually into the American Southwest as well.
Turquoise and other green stones also continued to be much-coveted luxury
items involved in trade from the American Southwest into Mesoamerica. Cacao was
equally important for the Mesoamerican trade structure, and may have been available on
the Jalisco and Colima coasts. The West Coast area was, therefore, a rich procurement
zone or key economic area; clearly, there was ample reason for the cultures of the area
to become involved in a major mercantile system that extended into nuclear
Mesoamerica (p. 140). Kelley presented the following hypothesis for the interpretation
of these Aztatlán phenomena:
Given a lineal distribution of related archaeological traits in diverse components
along a geographic corridor (river valley, coastal strip, mountain pass, etc.), it
may be inferred that a trade route is represented… characterized by (1) the
presence of similar stylistic and iconographic elements… (2) the presence of
luxury items and other commodities in high demand in… the core area, (3)
evidence for origin of the entire route in an area of large population and a high
demand market, and, (4) terminus of the combined routes in one or more…
networks… extending from gateway communities into hinterland procurement
 503

areas. Given these criteria, it may be said that the trade routes had become
organized into a mercantile system (p. 141).

According to Kelley (2000), travel along the various segments of the system
may have combined land and water transport. Bulky goods did not necessarily require
long-distance transportation because they may have changed hands at regular points
along the land route. Low-value commodities may have moved between two or more
points on the route where demand was great, but only luxury goods or strategic
commodities would move from point of origin to ultimate destination (p. 141).
By around AD 1200 the city-state of Culhuacán in the Valley of Mexico was
part of the pan-Mesoamerican trade structure that is known as the late Aztatlán
mercantile system (ca. 1150-1350/1400) (p. 146). This trade system was dominated by
Cholula and was closely-linked to the cultures of West and northwest Mexico.
According to Kelley, trade links between towns such as Culhuacán and those of the
Toluca region, where the Lerma River has its source, had been in existence for a long
time. The Lerma River had served as the geographic and cultural corridor that had
connected the Toluca region with the Lake Chapala Basin and the Valley of Atemajac
region (where Guadalajara is currently located) since the Preclassic period (p. 147).
Central Mexican influences traveled all the way to the coast, not stopping at the
Chapala Basin. The spacing of sites bearing Aztatlán-style pottery along the south shore
of Lake Chapala suggests that trade along this section was carried out by boat (p. 149).
Kelley’s general thesis is that, although single individuals may not have traversed the
entire distance from the Valley of Mexico to Guasave, the movement of goods did take
place along most of the mercantile route (p. 150). Guasave is, as far as we know, the
most northwestern of the Mesoamerican ‘colonies’ on the West Coast, but there was
some Mesoamerican occupation extending into Sonora. It is possible that some of the
Mixteca-Puebla/Aztatlán trade along the West Coast was carried out by canoe or raft
travel following the coast (p. 150).
Helmut Publ (1985) is of the opinion that trade in the Aztatlán region was the
key stimulus for change. As trade networks became more widespread and greater
interregional interactions took place, more elaborate sociopolitical systems emerged in
the Aztatlán region. At the time of Spanish contact, some areas in the region under
discussion appear to fit the chiefdom level of sociopolitical integration. Chiefdoms
 504

occur when a surplus is easily produced while a moderately large or dense population is
maintained (p. 180).
Publ’s study examined three major hypotheses regarding the Aztatlán tradition:
(1) the Aztatlán region in Protohistoric times comprised an integral socioeconomic unit;
(2) it had great temporal depth; and (3) it was an important Protohistoric link in a larger
integration of West Mexico, Central Mexico and the northern Mexican frontier (p. 183).
Publ arrived at the following conclusions: ‘The Aztatlán region had the inherent
capacity of developing into a complex cultural matrix on its own. Ecologically diverse
microenvironments made available not only a variety of natural resources, but allowed
for permanent agriculture, and the support of large populations. Such environmental
diversity also stimulated trade and favored the development of symbiotic trade
networks’ (p. 187). Publ concluded that ‘the nature of population growth, the
ascendancy of the distinct provinces, and overall cultural development in the Aztatlán
region were essentially indigenous processes. Whatever external influences (particularly
during Postclassic times) found their way into the area were… supplemental to an
already dynamic region’ (p. 187).
In short, the available evidence indicates that the Aztatlán region was already an
integrated socioeconomic unit during Early Postclassic times. Tied together by markets,
merchants and trade routes, the region clearly constituted a nuclear area within the
Mesoamerican ecumene.

The Expansion of the Aztatlán Tradition in the Ecumene

In this section I discuss the expansion of the Aztatlán tradition into the northwestern
hinterland of the Mesoamerican ecumene. I also search for a model for understanding
this historical process. The model presented is based on analogy with archaeological
and ethnohistorical data from both the Old and New Worlds. First, I examine the ‘Uruk
trade system’, which flourished in Mesopotamia in the fourth millennium BC. Although
Algaze (1993b) uses the ‘world system’ model to understand the Uruk polity and its
expansion, I prefer to use the term ‘Uruk trade system’, in part because the ‘world
system’ model has been criticized by several authors, including Randall McGuire
(1996), in the following terms: ‘An expansive view of an interconnected prehistory is
valuable for archaeology… however, prehistoric developments often do not fit the
expectations of a world-systems theory or the assumptions of a world-systems
perspective’ (p. 51). McGuire also holds that a world-systems approach, with its focus
 505

on functionally-integrated regions, often fails to capture the dynamic and contradictory

social relationships that shaped prehistoric societies. In short, ‘archaeologists should ask
about processes of uneven development in social relations at various scales in specific
historical sequences to arrive at understandings of how long-range interactions and local
developments interrelated in prehistory’ (p. 51). Archaeologists, historians and social
scientists in general should avoid a ‘totalizing theory that uses a priori functionally
related categories such as core and periphery and that assumes that processes of social
change are best understood at a single scale. Instead we need to examine the unevenness
of cultural development in terms of multiple dimensions and at multiple scales’ (p. 61).
The goal of an archaeological analysis such as the one presented herein ‘is to understand
history as a material [and] social process and not to build sterile generalizations about
world-systems in all times and places. To study this kind of history we ask about the
commonalities and differences between social groups and the larger historical [and]
environmental, context in which these commonalities and differences emerged’ (p. 61).
The Uruk trade system is an example of expansion into a hinterland, perceived
in diachronic perspective (Algaze 1993b). The analogical model discussed here also
considers the Silk Road, that network of trade routes that spanned the continents from
the inner regions of Asia to the Mediterranean Sea from prehistory into the recent past
(Frankopan 2015; Wood 2002), and whose idea is still very much alive today (Giuffrida
2019).
Archaeology is the only social science that cannot directly observe its subject of
study: the social behavior of ancient peoples. The men and women of antiquity in most
cases lived before the first historical accounts were preserved by written texts. In order
to overcome this handicap, archaeologists have turned to the study of secondary sources
of information, primarily ethnographic accounts about living cultures (ethnography),
and written sources pertaining to past historical periods (ethnohistory). Ian Hodder’s
Çatalhöyüc: The Leopard’s Tale (2006) is a prime example of this situation, for
throughout the book he ‘used a lot of quotations from the anthropologist Raymond
Firth’s work on the Tikopia—a society far from Çatalhöyüc in time and space, located
in what is now Polynesia’ (p. 27). Hodder also cited ethnographic examples from the
Pueblo Indians of the U.S. Southwest, the Dogon culture of Mali, and the Nuba of
Sudan. Hodder wrote that ‘many… aspects of this… description of the Tikopia suggest
strong similarities with Çatalhöyüc. There are, as ever, also many differences…
Nevertheless, I have been struck by the way in which Firth’s account of the Tikopia
 506

often seems to illustrate my interpretations based on the Çatalhöyüc data. The

ethnographic depth and detail he provides seems to add to the archaeological picture’ (p.
28).
In interpreting Çatalhöyüc, a site from the Neolithic period (ca. 7300-6000 BP)
in what is today Turkey, Hodder also used ethnographic studies of hunter-gatherer
societies, in particular the San Bushmen of southern Africa, to make quite specific
interpretations of the Neolithic world and the art at Çatalhöyüc. He explained his use of
ethnographic data for analogy thus: ‘I have so far been talking about using very specific
ethnographic parallels for Çatalhöyüc. But it is also possible to use general
anthropological understanding—that is, the conclusions used by anthropologists who
have studied and compared a large number of societies and developed general
theories… They [are] important in stimulating ideas and thoughts about the deep past’
(p. 29).
David and Kramer (2001), meanwhile, argue that ethnographic analogy, if used
cautiously, may be very important in helping us understand the cultural dimensions and
meanings of the archaeological record. However, several general principles must be met in
order for ethnographic analogies to be useful for archaeological reasoning. The authors
mentioned above believe that the ‘subject and source cultures should be similar in regard to
variables likely to have affected or influenced the materials, behaviors, states, or processes
being compared…If the source culture is the historic descendant of the subject culture,
there is… a greater intrinsic likelihood that similarities between the two will exist’.
However, cultural descent must be regarded as a problematic concept. The range of
potential source models for comparison with the subject data should be expanded to include
ethnography, ethnohistory and archaeology, ‘in order to obtain as representative a range as
practically possible… However, owing to the inevitable elements of inductive reasoning
and subjectivity involved in testing, deductive certainty can never be achieved’ (pp. 47-48).

Following Hodder’s views, as well as those of David and Kramer, I have used
archaeological, ethnographic and ethnohistorical data in this section in order to interpret
the spread of the Aztatlán archaeological tradition through ancient West Mexico.
The Uruk Trade System. The Uruk period in southern Iraq –ancient Mesopotamia–
covered the second half of the fifth millennium down to the fourth millennium BC
(Saggs 1999). This period introduced a revolutionary change marked mainly by six new
features: (1) the rise of the city as an economic and social unit; (2) the beginning of
 507

monumental architecture with an increasing use of stone; (3) a more widespread use of
metals; (4) the beginning of a formal art tradition; (5) the introduction of the cylinder
seal; and (6) the invention of writing. This period is called Uruk because that is the
ancient name of Warka, the site where it was first recognized, though in the Bible it is
called Erech. Another term used for this period is ‘Proto-literate’ (pp. 9-10).
According to Roger Matthews (2007), in the centuries around 3500-2800 BC
Uruk expanded hugely in size and came to boast enormous temple complexes built of
mud-brick and decorated with colored baked clay cones and stone inlay. At about 3000
BC, a massive city wall was constructed around the settlement. Matthews estimates that
the city must have housed several tens of thousands of inhabitants at its peak.
What follows is a summary discussion of Guillermo Algaze’s (1993b) study of
the Uruk trade system. The focus of Algaze’s work is the extent and magnitude of the
processes of external expansion that accompanied the crystallization of the Sumero-
Akkadian civilization in the Mesopotamian alluvium during the Uruk period. Algaze is
interested in the development of sociopolitical and economic complexity in
communities in the alluvial lowlands of southern Iraq during the period under
discussion. Research topics include the external manifestations and consequences of the
aforementioned process, including the colonization of the neighboring Susiana plain of
Khuzestan 6 and the establishment of a variety of specialized settlements at strategic
locations across the northern plains and in the surrounding highlands.

Uruk societies in southern Iraq had achieved levels of sociopolitical organization

that were significantly more advanced than those of contemporary communities on their
periphery. Different resource endowments between the Mesopotamian lowlands and the
highlands ensured that the highly-stratified societies that emerged in the alluvium region
during the Uruk period could not maintain themselves unless they had access to a
resource base significantly wider than the alluvium itself (p. ix). The Mesopotamian
alluvium was a land bereft of the most basic natural resources, other than soil and grass
for agriculture and animal husbandry, respectively. Therefore, most material
requirements needed for the existence of highly-stratified social systems had to be
imported from distant highland areas whose communities possessed lower levels of

6
‘Khuzestan: formerly Arabestān, is a geographic region in southwestern Iran lying at the head of the Persian Gulf and bordering
Iraq on the west. The area that is now Khūzestān was settled about 6000 BC by a people with affinities to the Sumerians, who came
from the Zagros Mountains region. Urban centers appeared there nearly contemporaneously with the first cities in Mesopotamia in
the 4th millennium BC.’ Source: Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/place/Khuzestan (accessed 10 April 2019).
 508

political and economic development than the polities in Iraq’s alluvium region. The
process of the emergence of city-states in this area probably played out against a much
wider background, and interregional exchange was a major economic strategy (p. 1).

The maintenance of complex political organizations over long periods of time in

the Mesopotamian alluvium region cannot be understood without the framework of a
surrounding broad universe; that is, a wider system of economic and political
relationships among areas with complementary resources (p. 2). According to Algaze,
securing the flow of strategic resources required developing long-distance exchange
systems and cross-cultural contacts between Uruk societies in southern Mesopotamia
and surrounding communities in the periphery. Long-distance exchange and state
formation are thought to have been intricately-connected, at times directly through state
control of trade, at others indirectly by means of state control of the commodities that
were exchanged and the means of production; that is labor (p. 2). The inception of
exchange systems would prove to be a powerful mechanism for the emergence of more
complex sociopolitical structures, especially if the indigenous societies involved were
themselves on the verge of a social-evolutionary process instigated by internal pressures
(p. 3).

By Uruk times there was a complex supra-regional interaction system in the

Mesopotamian alluvium region, as indicated by the settlement patterns of Uruk sites
outside the latter region, as well as the presence of artifacts of Uruk affiliation in
peripheral indigenous sites (p. 6). In a system of cross-cultural interdependence such as
the one explored by Algaze, it is not possible to understand the transformations suffered
by any particular component without taking into consideration related changes taking
place in other interdependent components. Algaze mentions a global approach to
historical change that is very useful to the study of the processes connected with the
emergence and maintenance of civilization in Mesopotamia and other areas: the notion
of ‘social totality’ expounded by Karl Marx, whereby ‘all elements within a single
social system exist in a matrix of mutual determinations’ (p. 7). In other words, the
‘social systems and their transformations must be analyzed within the context of a
dynamic structure of asymmetrical relationships of interdependency, principally (but
not solely) economic in nature, that… [may] originate outside of any particular region
or any specific group’ (p. 7).
 509

In Algaze’s opinion, one of the defining characteristics shared by many trade

systems ‘is the integration of new regions into an expanding economy… some systems
may never develop beyond this initial stage, while others may go on to develop more
formal political ties’ (p. 9). According to Algaze, a problem with some interpretations
of imperialism involves ‘theories that attempt to understand relationships of dependency
only on the basis of social, political, or economic developments in the core [while]
ignoring a whole range of equally vital factors at work in the periphery’ (p. 9). He
suggests that attempts to control access to resources and regularize their flow may lead
to the creation of ‘gateway communities’ (e.g. Hirth 1978) at natural points of passage
between contrasting regions involved in an exchange system. The geographically-
scattered distribution of enclaves may indicate that neither the control of extensive
territories (as in a formal empire) nor the effective, large-scale exploitation of local
resources (i.e. agriculture) were of primary importance for the existence of the enclaves
in the first place.

In discussing the ‘gateway communities’ or strategic trade outposts that

developed at key points of the Mesopotamian landscape, Algaze (1993b) says that ‘the
pattern of Uruk settlement in the Syro-Mesopotamian plains and in the highlands is
indicative of the function of those sites. Uruk enclaves within alien hinterlands appear
during initial contact between societies at markedly different levels of sociopolitical
evolution, often described as dendritic central places’ (p. 61). This kind of center is
‘characteristic of vertical distribution systems that cut across political and cultural
boundaries and allow well-organized polities… access… to less developed
peripheries… The… specific location of Mesopotamian enclaves… at focal nodes of the
structures of communication… [helps] explain the formation and distribution of
settlements… in situations where long-distance trade is of primary economic
importance’ (p. 61). This phenomenon was also present in relations between ‘nuclear
Mesoamerica’ and the northwestern region of the ecumene, as I will discuss later in this
chapter.

In the archaeological records from southern Mesopotamia, many of the imported

strategic resources appear for centuries or millennia before the Uruk period. The
difference in the fourth millennium is the increased variety and, perhaps, quantity of
imported commodities. This came about as a result of a network of Uruk enclaves and
 510

outposts at strategic locations outside the Mesopotamian ecumene. This network

probably exerted great economic power in the overall long-distance trade economy of
the Syrio-Mesopotamian plains. Indigenous communities from the periphery were
probably willing to participate in the wider exchange network set up by the Uruk
settlements (pp. 83-84).

The most common institutional form of cross-cultural exchange after the first
cities appeared on the landscape was the ‘trade diaspora’, a term that Algaze applies to
the Uruk case to refer to ‘any community or communities set up for the specific purpose
of mediating contacts between areas with different but complementary resource
endowments’ (p. 113). A trade diaspora may take a number of different forms,
including, but not limited to, commercial specialists living as aliens in a foreign
community, or even posts established as de facto political entities, while the founding
state retains some form of control over the trading settlements. There are many possible
configurations between these two extremes in terms of the relationship between the
outposts of the trade diaspora and local communities. In areas where local polities were
already in control of a trade network, however, trading towns were more likely to be
found only in selected locations, usually at the meeting point of transportation networks.
Uruk enclaves in Syrio-Mesopotamia managed to superimpose a new and farther-
reaching orientation on pre-existing exchange networks, as enclaves were strategically-
positioned to control the ‘international’ trade routes into and out of the alluvium region,
and across the Syrio-Mesopotamian plains (pp. 113-114).

The primitive transportation technologies common to pre-modern societies –

such as Mesopotamia and Mesoamerica– meant that direct exploitation of distant
resources was prohibitively-expensive and time-consuming. Under those conditions, the
highland resources sought by the Uruk states ‘were much more easily and cheaply
obtained by allowing indigenous communities already exploiting them to continue,
provided they could be persuaded or coerced… into trade at terms favorable’ to the
polities in the alluvium region (p. 114). Algaze regards ‘the links that tied the northern
Mesopotamian periphery and the alluvial lowlands… in the Uruk period [as] primarily
economic in nature. Nonetheless, those links were deeply influential in the development
of peripheral societies. The effects of this process can be seen in the archaeological
 511

record as Mesopotamian architectural styles, and Mesopotamian ceramic assemblages’

(p. 115).

However, the ‘world system’ model used by Algaze and others suffers from
serious handicaps: 1) it leans heavily on economic determinism; and 2) it is reductionist
in that it regards ‘market forces’ and ‘economic rationalism’ as the prime-movers of
sociohistorical phenomena. In her discussion of the trade diaspora model of economic
interaction, Gil Stein (2002:27) points out that ‘many, if not most, early state societies
in the Old and the New World established colonies as one aspect of their overall
expansionary dynamics, such as trade, alliance formation, or conquest. Although
colonies existed in a wide variety of ancient, non-Western, and pre-capitalist cultural
contexts, archaeological interpretations of these systems have usually been influenced
by the structure of… ’ European imperialism as it existed from the sixteenth through the
late twentieth century. Stein uses a different approach, in which the ‘world system’
model is replaced by the ‘trade diaspora’ model, for she argues that the latter approach
is better-suited to analyzing trade relations and cultural formations in ancient
Mesopotamia, but could equally be applied to other civilizations, such as Mesoamerica.

According to Stein, ‘as early as 3700 BC, the newly emergent Mesopotamian
city-states of the Uruk period expanded into neighboring areas of Syria and southeast
Anatolia. They established a series of settlements apparently intended to gain access to
vital raw materials such as copper or lumber, in the world’s earliest known network of
colonies’ (p. 27). The Mesopotamian trade colonies established in foreign lands ‘are
generally viewed as controlling, either formally or informally, the exchange system and,
through that, the indigenous populations with whom they interacted’ (p. 27). Stein calls
our attention to the fact that the arguments for Mesopotamian colonial dominance have
often been based on a heavily-biased archaeological record, because until recently we
knew almost nothing about either the dynamics of interaction between Mesopotamian
and local populations, or the impact of this interregional trade system on the
development of indigenous cultural systems in southeast Anatolia.
Stein’s archaeological research in the Euphrates River Valley of southeast
Anatolia discovered an enclave of ethnically-distinct Mesopotamians where Stein found
that ‘the foreigners did not dominate their local Anatolian host community… instead,
the Uruk enclave was a socially and economically autonomous diaspora whose
 512

members raised their own food, produced their own crafts, and administered their own
separate exchange system’ (p. 28). Although they were in close contact with their
Anatolian host community (and may even have established inter-ethnic marriage
relationships), ‘the foreigners seem to have maintained a distinct social identity over an
extended period of time. The encapsulated organization of the Mesopotamian enclave
and the essential parity in its social relations with the [hosts]… are best explained in
terms of the “trade diaspora” model’ (p. 28). The data analyzed by Stein indicate that
there was considerable variation in the organization of power relations and colonial-
local economic interaction in ancient, non-Western colonial systems. ‘Therefore, there
are multiple potential modes of power relations among colonies, homelands, host
communities, and the specialists who act as intermediaries among them… trade
diasporas [have been defined] as interregional exchange networks composed of spatially
dispersed specialized merchant groups which are culturally distinct’ (p. 30), have a
cohesive organization, and are socially-independent from their host communities, while
at the same time they maintain social ties and a high level of economic contact with
related communities which define themselves in the context of a shared general cultural
identity.
The trade diaspora approach allows us to reconstruct ‘several major aspects of
identity and political economy in the interregional interaction network that linked the
early complex societies of Mesopotamia, Anatolia, Syria, and Iran in the fourth
millennium BC’ (p. 55). Stein offers ‘the interpretation that an ethnically distinct colony
of Mesopotamians was, in fact, present… and that… this colony was an autonomous
trade diaspora that did not dominate the indigenous complex society with which it
interacted’ (p. 55). Stein concludes her discussion by pointing out that ‘the trade
diaspora theoretical framework can be used cross-culturally in a more general model of
variability in power relations within the networks that link homelands, colonies, host
communities, and the specialist intermediaries who circulate among them’ (p. 57). This
arrangement amounts to a situation where we are dealing with ‘colonies without
colonialism’ or, perhaps better, ‘an autonomous diaspora community, rather than a
group of politically dominant foreigners, as would be expected in the European
colonialist model’ (p. 58). Stein ends her discussion by stating that we should
‘disentangle the more general social phenomenon of “colonies” from the highly specific
European… phenomenon of “colonialism” [in order] to generate more realistic models
 513

of cross-cultural interaction’ (p. 58). The trade diaspora concept has been applied to
Andean archaeology by Paul Goldstein (2005, 2013).
During the search for a model that would take into account the ideational sphere
as well as economic factors, the ‘Silk Roads’ (Frankopan 2015) came into focus as a
perspective that can be used to understand the historical processes behind the dispersal
of cultural and religious links in the Postclassic Mesoamerican ecumene. As we have
seen, the ‘trade diaspora’ would also be a fruitful model to pursue in seeking to
understand the nature of trade and cultural relations in antiquity.
The Silk Roads. According to Frances Wood (2002), ‘the romantic name Seidenstrasse
or Silk Road was… coined in 1877 by the German explorer and geographer Baron
Ferdinand von Richthofen’ (p. 9). However, from at least the first century AD the
Chinese had their own terms for the northern and southern routes that led from the
‘Chinese capital to the “Western Regions”. 7 Though silk was transported along a series
of routes across Central Asia to Europe, from China to Rome, though this complex of
tracks can be described as one of the world’s earliest highways, the very name ‘‘Silk
Road’’ is somewhat misleading’ (p. 9), because it suggests a single road or continuous
journey, whereas goods were in fact transported over a series of routes, by a series of
agents, and passed through many hands before reaching their final destination. The
number of travelers who actually traversed the full length of the Silk Roads was always
very low: in the early days, mainly missionaries of various faiths, but from the
nineteenth century on there were explorers, geographers and archaeologists (p. 9). One
of the most famous travelers on the Chinese Silk Roads was Marco Polo (1254-1324),
whose accounts mention the finest silk he saw in the markets and many other goods he
brought back to his native Venice (Waugh and Bellonci 1984).

Today many people use the term ‘Silk Road’ to refer to a vast geographical area
covered by high mountains and deserts with a long cultural history (Wood 2002). Even
as late as the 1930s, the old tracks across the desert were still visible on those oft-
travelled roads (p. 10), which had seen a ‘ceaselessly flowing stream of life, for it was
the great highway of Asia, which connected the Far East with distant European lands’
(p. 11).

7
Reaching as far as the Oxus or Amu Darya River in Central Asia, the present-day natural border between Afghanistan and
Tajikistan. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amu_Darya, accessed 21 April 2019.
 514

The Chinese emperors first expressed considerable interest in the lands beyond
their western frontiers during the Han dynasty (206 BC-AD 220), a time when Rome
was equally interested in acquiring Chinese silks. Later, from AD 618 to 907, the Tang
dynasty saw an extraordinary increase in contact with Central Asian kingdoms and also
in Buddhist connections with India via the Silk Road (p. 11). But for at least seven
thousand years before the Silk Roads received their name, countless goods were traded
between the oasis towns surrounding the Central Asian deserts and China. One of the
earliest materials to have been transported from the Khotan 8 area on the southern Silk
Road was jade (p. 26). Such was the demand for this precious green stone that it
continued (and continues to this day!) to be transported from the rivers of Khotan
(Hetian) along the southern Silk Road. Thus, the commodity that gave its name to this
great east-west trade route was by no means the only product carried along it. Silk,
however, did have enormous significance in trade between China and the
Mediterranean, for it was known in Rome, certainly from the first century BC, a period
when it could only have been produced in China (pp. 27-28).
Chinese silk appears to have reached the Mediterranean during the second
century BC and was the first significant commodity to be exported from East to West.
The Romans’ knowledge of its origin was hazy: they gave the name ‘Seres’ or ‘silk
people’ not only to the Chinese, but more generally to all inhabitants of far-off East
Asia. While it is probable that silk was transported to Rome along the Silk Roads, some
also arrived by sea (p. 29).
According to Wood, ‘the traders who carried luxuries and necessities in camel
trains between the oases on the Silk Roads were very varied in physique, language,
costume and culture’ (p. 61). From the second century BC until the end of the Tang
dynasty (tenth century AD), merchants form Sogdia (an ancient Iranian
civilization) dominated much of the trade on the Silk Roads. Their homeland, the
fortified city of Marakanda, now Samarkand, lay due northwest of the Silk Road (p. 65).
The Sogdians were well-known throughout Central Asia: ‘Their language, related to
Aramaic, became the common language of trade along the Silk Roads and they were
partly responsible for the movement of religions like Manichaeism, Zoroastrianism, and
Buddhism eastwards along the Silk Road. Chinese stories of the Sogdians describe them
as born to their trade’ (p. 66). Wood reports that according to linguistic evidence,
8
Khotan was an ancient kingdom located on the branch of the Silk Road that ran along the southern edge of the Taklamakan
Desert in the Tarim Basin (modern Xinjiang, China ). Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kingdom_of_Khotan, accessed 15 April
2019.
 515

Zoroastrianism was adopted by numerous Sogdians who spread it into China, where the
new religion was tolerated for a time during the Tang dynasty, and then into India
where it still survives. Manichaeism was another major religion transmitted along the
Silk Roads into China by the Sogdians. It began in Mesopotamia with the prophet Mani
(born AD 216), whose beliefs were a blend or Iranian and Semitic traditions, with
additions from Buddhism and Christianity (p. 70).
In Charles Hucker’s (1975) study of Chinese history we learn that Han
supremacy held sway over a wide geographical area that included Chinese
Turkmenistan. In AD 97 a Chinese army marched all the way to the Caspian Sea, and
from there towards the Mediterranean. For the next several centuries, camel caravans
carried silks from China across Central Asia to Rome, while seafarers from Southeast
Asia and the Indian Ocean regularly traded in China’s southern ports (p. 131).
The Chinese dynasties of the early imperial age did not generally encourage
foreign trade, but some commercial exchange was unavoidable, since foreigners from
all sides sought such Chinese products as silk, ceramics and coins. From the Han period
on it became standard practice for Chinese and neighboring peoples to trade their wares
at frontier markets under government sponsorship and control. Tributary missions from
vassal states were commonly allowed to include traders, who thus gained opportunities
to do business in the markets of the capital. We know of one group of traders who
appeared on the south coast of China in AD 166 claiming to be envoys from the Roman
emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (p. 191). Chinese rulers were as enchanted as
anyone else with the rare and costly goods that came to the country through trade or
tribute: gold, jade, furs, spices, and strange animals and birds, to name just a few,
including one trade item that the Chinese desperately needed: horses bred on the broad
steppes of Central Asia (p. 191).
The Song dynasty (ca. 960-1279), in contrast, actively encouraged overseas
trade. During this period, newly-designed Chinese ships regularly plied the South China
Sea in competition with the Arab merchantmen who had long dominated the east-west
sea trade. The Chinese traded silks and porcelains for spices and other luxury goods,
and their ships traded as far as the Malabar coast of India, supposedly using the first
magnetic compasses known in world history (p. 351).
Frankopan (2015) tells us that silk performed a number of important roles in the
ancient world. Under the Han dynasty, for instance, it was used alongside coins and
grain to pay troops. It was in some ways the most reliable currency, so bolts of raw silk
 516

were used regularly for this purpose. Eventually, silk became an international currency
as well as a highly-coveted luxury product (p. 13). However, material goods were not
the only objects that flowed along the arteries linking the Pacific Ocean, Central Asia,
India, the Persian Gulf and the Mediterranean in antiquity, for they were accompanied
by ideas. Among the most powerful ideas so disseminated were ones that concerned the
divine. Intellectual and religious exchange had always been robust across this region,
and with the passage of time it became more complex and competitive as local cults and
belief systems came into contact with well-established cosmologies, resulting in a rich
melting pot where ideas were borrowed, refined and repackaged (p. 28).
The intellectual and theological spaces of the Silk Roads were crowded, as
deities and cults, priests and local rulers interacted. It is important to understand that the
stakes were high, for this was a time when societies were very receptive to explanations
for everything from the mundane to the supernatural, and when faith offered solutions
to a multitude of problems (p. 29). According to Frankopan, ‘Christianity first spread
east via the Jewish communities who had lived in Mesopotamia since the Babylonian
exile. They received reports of Jesus’ life and death… in Aramaic, the language of the
disciples and of Jesus himself. Just as in the Mediterranean, traders were instrumental in
the evangelizing process in the east’ (p. 39). Polytheism, however, was fading on the
eve of the rise of Islam. In its place came Jewish and Christian concepts of a single, all-
powerful God. These ideas can be found in inscriptions that began to proliferate across
the Arabian Peninsula in the late sixth and early seventh centuries. According to
Frankopan, ‘it was in this region that a trader named Muhammad… retreated to a cave
not far from the city of Mecca to contemplate. According to Islamic tradition, in 610 he
began to receive a series of revelations’ (p. 71). Eventually, Muhammad’s ideas began
to spread. With barriers and opposition melting away in Arabia, expeditionary forces
were sent to exploit opportunities opening up elsewhere. Between 628 and 632 success
attracted new supporters, whose numbers grew as cities, towns and villages on Persia’s
southern frontier were swallowed up. Thanks to their strategic genius and tactical
acumen on the battlefield, Muhammad and his followers were able to achieve a series of
stunning successes. The support of the political elite in Mecca was crucial as well, since
it provided a platform for persuading the tribes of southern Arabia to hear and accept
the message of the new faith (p. 77).
Those who had been inspired by Muhammad established perhaps the greatest
empire the world has ever seen; one that would introduce irrigation techniques and new
 517

crops from Mesopotamia to the Iberian Peninsula where they set off nothing less than
an agrarian revolution that would span thousands of square miles. Frankopan wrote that
‘the Islamic conquest created a new world order, an economic giant, bolstered by self-
confidence, broad-mindedness and a passionate zeal for progress. Immensely wealthy…
it was a place where order prevailed, where merchants could become rich, where
intellectuals were respected’ (p. 97).
Meanwhile, back in Mesoamerica, change was also underway in roughly the
same time frame. Davies (1980) tells us that when Teotihuacan fell, the Olmeca-
Xicallancas were left in possession of the Puebla-Tlaxcala region, which they
dominated during the Tula-Mazapan horizon, marked in Cholula itself by the phases
Cholulteca I and II. The presence in Cholula of fair amounts of Aztec-I pottery points to
continued ties with the Valley of Mexico, and it is thought that Quetzalcoatl himself
visited Cholula before reaching Tula. Supposedly, Quetzalcoatl arrived in Cholula from
Yucatán and returned eastwards without ever visiting Tula at all (pp. 158-159). The
parallels between the Old World and the New are remarkable in terms of the presence of
‘prophets’ who began new religious movements. McCafferty (2001:119) tells us that
Cholula has often been discussed in relation to the development of the Postclassic
Mixteca-Puebla horizon, and has been considered the point of origin of this artistic
tradition, the center of the Quetzalcoatl cult, and the area where the Postclassic religious
style first emerged.
As the probable source of the Codex Borgia and other pre-Columbian codices, as
well as ‘codex-type’ polychrome pottery, Cholula was clearly an important center for
the origin and spread of the ubiquitous Mixtec style (p. 120). In McCafferty’s opinion,
one of the pervasive themes of the Postclassic Mixteca-Puebla religious style ‘is the
prevalence of iconographic elements of the Quetzalcoatl cult, including feather serpent
motifs and xicalcoliuhqui [i.e. step-fret] patterns… Ethnohistoric sources clearly place
Cholula at the center of this religious movement… Quetzalcoatl was a deity whose
priesthood preserved sacred knowledge, and the temple complex at Cholula may have
housed a vast library and [school] where scribes trained in codex-style painting’ (p.
120). The mechanism for the diffusion of the Mixteca-Puebla religious style is not yet
fully understood, but it is possible that the iconography of Quetzalcoatl was transmitted
by the pochteca; that is, professional merchants affiliated with their patron deity,
Quetzalcoatl/Yacatecuhtli, whose cult was centered in Cholula.
 518

McCafferty suggests that a possible ethnographic parallel to this process may be

found in the spread of Islam in Africa by ethnically-organized Hausa merchants who
had established a ‘trade diaspora’ based on concepts of ethnic and religious identity.
The Hausa network was maintained through the distribution of religious icons that led
to the consolidation of a kind of safety net of religious practitioners.
Another ancient Mesoamerican city that played a role in the Quetzalcoatl saga
was Xochicalco (Morelos) (López Luján 1995). During the Epiclassic period (ca. AD
800), Xochicalco was a sprawling fortified city, covering some 4 km2, surely with a
considerable population. The Temple of the Plumed Serpent is the monument in this
urban area with the most abundant corpus of inscriptions and relief motifs. Most
scholars coincide in identifying the main figure with a snake, be it the Earth Monster or,
more likely, Quetzalcoatl. According to López Luján, this serpent is at the same time a
symbol of authority and a tutelary deity, associated with water, earth, blood and fertility.
‘This monument, therefore, would legitimate the preponderance of a dynastic line and
of its rule based on the Quetzalcoatl cult’ (p. 120).
Evans (2004a) reminds us that in Mesoamerica the all-important ‘feathered
serpent’ icon is a transliteration of a pair of iconographic motifs that were ‘consistently
linked from the Formative period on: a serpent bearing a crest of feathers… or… found
paired with one or more quetzal birds. The term is also a… translation of
“Quetzalcoatl”, the Postclassic Nahuatl deity whose name combined the quetzal bird’
(p. 354), whose long green feathers adorned royal headdresses throughout
Mesoamerica, and the rattlesnake, a widespread ‘symbol of fertility and regeneration…
Serpents are also associated with water and earth… Quetzal feathers are associated with
all things precious and verdant, from jade to clusters of maize leaves and tule reeds…
“Feathered serpent” encompasses “Quetzalcoatl” and other expressions of this principle
ranging from Olmec depictions of an avian serpent… to… Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl’ (p.
354).
According to Evans, feathered serpent symbolism became common during the
Classic period, particularly in Central Mexico, for instance at Teotihuacan (Figure
248a). In the Classic/Epiclassic such motifs are also found at Xochicalco (Figure
248b), Cacaxtla and El Tajín, among other important sites. In the Late Postclassic
period in some parts of Mesoamerica –especially Central Mexico– the god Quetzalcoatl
was regarded as one of the creators of humankind: the deity who retrieved maize from
the underworld and gave it to the people. Quetzalcoatl was also a patron of rulers,
 519

priests and merchants, while the character known as Ce-Acatl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl
‘was a semi-historical, semi-mythical heroic figure who was said to have brought Tula
to greatness’ (p. 355).
We have already mentioned that Quetzalcoatl was also Ehécatl, the wind god
who appeared as ‘a common Postclassic avatar of the deity. Here again, the strong sense
of fertility pervades the deity, because the wind presages the life-giving rains. Yet, in
Postclassic Cholula he was the patron of merchants… Temples to this deity were often
round, another symbolic nod to the sweep of the wind’ (p. 355). A distinct interpretation
comes from Burr C. Brundage (1979), who wrote the following about the Plumed
Serpent (Figure 249): ‘The plumes referred to are the exquisite green tail feathers of
the… quetzal bird found in Central America. These plumes were so prized that the word
quetzalli came to mean “precious” or “treasure”. Quetzalcoatl… very often does not
appear as a plumed serpent at all, but as a bearded man painted black and wearing a
grotesque red buccal mask’ (p. 102). Around his neck there is usually a conch pectoral
sectioned to reveal its graceful inner convolutions. This was the god’s so-called wind
jewel, supposedly symbolizing the swirling winds that precede the rains. In Brundage’s
opinion, Quetzalcoatl is actually fourfold: ‘He is originally a flying dragon called the
Plumed Serpent. He is also Ehecatl, the Wind. He is the Morning Star, whose name is
Ce Acatl, One Reed. And finally he is the Toltec priest-ruler, Topiltzin’ (p. 104).
The city of Cholula was unique in its heavy focus on just one god, Quetzalcoatl.
According to Brundage, ‘if any city could claim to be the holy center of the Aztec
world, that city would be Cholula… [it] was a city of traffickers’ (p. 121). Therefore, it
followed that the city’s deity was a lord of riches and as such he could appear ‘in a
transfiguration as… Yacateuctli, the god of merchants… Because of the prominence of
Cholula’s merchants in Mesoamerican exchange, Quetzalcoatl thus early took on
commercial coloration and, in the great banquets given by the merchants of that city to
display their wealth, many tales were told of the god’s buying and selling ventures and
of his fabulous working of jade and turquoise’ (p. 122).
In their discussion of the sacred precinct at Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital,
Alfredo López Austin and López Luján (2017) mention that ‘the temple dedicated to the
god of wind, Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl, was built in the shape of a truncated cone because of
the shape the wind takes on as it swirls around in the sky… the entrance was a door
shaped like a serpent’s mouth, with the fangs sculpted in relief’ (p. 611). Michael Smith
(2017) also touches upon the subject of Aztec round temples: ‘Unlike the rectangular
 520

pyramids, which could be dedicated to a wide range of gods, circular pyramids… were
always dedicated to Ehecatl, god of wind and avatar of Quetzalcoatl… this association
is known from numerous depictions in the ritual codices and accounts in written
sources. In a few cases, sculptures of Ehecatl have been excavated as offerings in
circular pyramids’ (p. 210).
According to Guilhem Olivier (2017), ‘a god like Quetzalcoatl could manifest
himself as a natural element (air) or as a planet (Venus), or appear as an animal
(monkey, possum), a captive slave (his ‘image’ in Cholula), or a political leader
(Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl at Tula)’ (p. 576), while Davies (1977) tells us that
The Plumed Serpent is a divine emblem of great universality in Mesoamerica…
This cult was indeed widespread, stretching on the one hand as far as Nicaragua,
at the opposite extreme, among the Huicholes, rain clouds are considered as
plumed serpents. The adoration of the Plumed Serpent enjoyed a long life span,
starting in Teotihuacan and perhaps even earlier in rudimentary form, it outlived
its apogee in Tollan Xicocotitlan [i.e. Tula] and still flourished under the
Aztecs… because of its very timelessness, it is hard to reach the core of the
Quetzalcoatl saga… Quetzalcoatl can be a man, hero, or god, or as Plumed
Serpent a mere symbol (p. 56).
From the perspective of art history, Pasztory (1997) mentions that serpents
appear on a few Preclassic images with a wing or a single feather, but the first truly
plumed serpent is found on the Temple of the Feathered Serpent at Teotihuacan. No one
can be certain whether the combination is a Teotihuacan idea, but there can be no doubt
that the mythical creature enjoyed a particularly prominent position there. The only
other temple with a similar feathered serpent image is the one at Xochicalco, mentioned
above, which flourished at the end of, or right after, Teotihuacan’s collapse (p. 112).
In his study of Ehecatl’s role in Classic-period West Mexico, Weigand (1992a)
proposed that this deity was in fact West Mexico’s ‘supreme god’ (Figure 250), arguing
that ‘for many years I have suspected that the bird-like characters represented on the
pseudo-cloisonné vessels were interpretations of a West-Mexican prototype of Ehecatl...
shells are [usual] motifs represented on [pseudo-cloisonné] vessels’ (p. 218). Weigand
points out that the possible ‘proto-Ehecatl’ figures have been found in burials linked to
the circular precincts, and circular architecture is a very important signature of Ehecatl,
and of Quetzalcoatl in general. Ehecatl as the god of wind and of the firmament was
also linked to clouds and, therefore, with rain (p. 220). Though it may seem far-fetched
 521

to transfer features related to Ehecatl from ethnohistorical sources in Central Mexico’s

early Colonial period to the West-Mexican Classic period, Weigand looked for common
features in order to understand this deity in a different cultural and geographic context
from that of the central Mexican Highlands, but still firmly within the Mesoamerican
iconographic tradition.
Final Remarks
The Postclassic period in West Mexico is characterized by close interaction with the rest
of the Mesoamerican ecumene, especially Toltec culture and the Mixteca-Puebla
tradition. In order to understand this relationship in its cultural and historical
dimensions, I have discussed at length such topics as the city of Tula and the Toltec
state and its people, paying special attention to their daily life, their subsistence
activities and household economy, the issue of Toltec presence in Mesoamerica and,
finally, the downfall of the Toltec state. I also touched upon the Mixtec state and its role
in developing the Mixteca-Puebla tradition. Another topic discussed was the city-state
of Cholula and its role in trade and the spread of the Quetzalcoatl cult in Mesoamerica,
including West Mexico.
The Postclassic period in the western regions of the ecumene was analyzed by
presenting a summary of recent research in Michoacán, Jalisco, Colima, Nayarit and
Sinaloa. In order to understand the expansion of the Aztatlán cultural and artistic
tradition throughout most of West Mexico, I relied on analogy with two examples from
the archaeological and ethnohistorical literature: the Uruk trade system of Mesopotamia
and the Silk Roads that reached from the Chinese imperial capital to the shores of the
Mediterranean. The parallels between the spread of Islam and Christianity in the Old
World and the Quetzalcoatl cult in Mesoamerica form a remarkable phenomenon that
deserves much greater attention than I could give it here.
Bruce Trigger (2003) observed that most of the goods that people used in
everyday life in early civilizations were produced and sold or exchanged locally. Long-
distance trade differed from local trade in scale and organization, and because rulers
were concerned with its political ramifications they related to it differently in city-
versus territorial states. In most city-states, the decentralized nature of political power
encouraged the development of inter-city trade as an independent enterprise, but a
different situation prevailed in territorial states, where government control of long-
distance trade and exotic goods was generally an important source of power and
prestige for rulers.
 522

In Mesopotamia, in contrast, both inter-city trade and commerce with more

remote regions were conducted by professional merchants who belonged to one or more
mercantile associations (damgar). Traders enjoyed special treatment, as they received
allotments of temple land and were exempt from performing corvée labor (p. 342).
Merchants in Mesopotamia traded goods owned by temples, kings, wealthy landowners
and kin groups on a commission basis while also buying and selling goods on their own
account. Staple foods like grain and dates are examples of important exports from
Mesopotamian cities. Trigger tells of a merchant from Lagash who transported over
13,000 fish to Nippur, where he sold them. Merchants also traded in wool, cloth and
other Mesopotamian manufactures with far-off regions in exchange for metals, wood,
semiprecious stones and other raw materials (p. 343).
According to Trigger, Mesopotamian merchants established trading posts near
foreign towns in what is now Turkey and perhaps also in Iran and around the Persian
Gulf. In those areas, resident Mesopotamian merchants could trade with the local people
on a regular basis, while their subordinates managed the transport of goods over long
distances. Inter-city trade was important for securing goods from abroad, and
hegemonic Mesopotamian cities used their political power to ensure that their own
merchants could trade with foreign regions, unhampered by intervening city-states.
Mesopotamian merchants developed complex commercial relations with each
other, for instance by building up credit and incurring debts. It is also clear that a profit
motive was active in long-distance trade, and that increases in the value of goods more
than covered the cost of transporting them by river, sea or donkey. Grain prices also
fluctuated according to scarcity, both on a seasonal basis and depending on the size of
annual harvests. No obvious marketplaces have been identified in Mesopotamian cities,
so it seems that commercial transactions took place near the city gates, in small shops,
and/or along a so-called ‘street of purchases’ (p. 344).
In Mesoamerica, meanwhile –especially Central Mexico– long-distance traders
(pochteca) were exclusively male. The pochteca in each major city-state were organized
into one or more traders’ associations, each of which also shared a calpulli (ward or
neighborhood). Rivalries were strong among the pochteca, and it appears that individual
traders could achieve eminence by investing some of the profits they derived from
successful long-distance trade in lavish, competitive feasting with other pochteca.
According to Trigger, there were twelve cities with resident pochteca in the Valley of
Mexico, but the traders from only five of those cities were permitted to trade outside the
 523

Triple Alliance’s tributary system. The goods belonging to the pochteca were
transported by human bearers (tlameme) who were usually free, but landless, men from
outside the valley. Long-distance traders usually travelled in groups and were armed to
defend themselves against thieves. Among many other items that they brought into the
Valley of Mexico, the pochteca supplied the exotic raw materials that artisans needed,
but their most important task was to obtain exotic luxury goods from outside the
tributary network that their states controlled, especially quetzal feathers from Central
America (p. 345).
According to Eric Wolf’s (1999) study of Aztec society, Tenochtitlan was home
to traders, including a multitude of part-time or full-time petty traders and full-time
professional merchants who engaged in long-distance trade on a grand scale. The
professional merchants –pochteca– maintained ties with merchant groups in city-states
within the Valley of Mexico and beyond, often owning houses and depots in those cities
that were used as points of departure and return for voyages to the coasts of the Pacific
Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico and points southward, perhaps as far as Guatemala (pp. 184-
185). While it is likely that pochteca identity and organization predated the rise of
Tenochtitlan, the role of these traders grew steadily in importance as the Aztec capital
expanded its area of political control and an ever-increasing supply of precious feathers,
jewelry, decorated garments and emblems flowed through the hands of the pochteca
into the ruler’s coffers in Tenochtitlan, to be parceled out to honor officials and reward
warriors. This pochteca trade in luxury goods benefited primarily the palace and the
nobility, yet they did not deal only in preciosities such as tropical feathers and amber
labrets, or capes with eagle-face designs. They also traded slaves, and their sacrificing
of slave victims in connection with their feasts is specifically noted in the sources. Wolf
says that these merchants ‘have been characterized as “a true middle class”… but they
are perhaps better understood as a hereditary professional group engaged in state-
dependent and state-administered trade’ (p. 185). Although strictly-speaking the
pochteca were not nobles, ‘they could send their sons to the schools of the nobility, and
they could also use and display luxury goods not allowed to commoners… the
merchants strove to imitate warrior ways and used gift giving and feasting to secure the
favor of the ruler and his military nobility’ (p. 186).
According to Trigger (2003), many cities in the Valley of Mexico had large
central markets (tianquiztli). Those in the main urban centers (Tenochtitlan, Tlaltelolco,
and Texcoco) met daily with larger concentrations of people taking place every five
 524

days. The largest marketplace in each city was located near its center, close to the main
temples and the royal palace. At urban markets, buyers exchanged mainly maize and
cloth for more perishable foodstuffs, beverages, raw materials such as wood, hides and
salt, goods manufactured locally or in nearby parts of the Valley of Mexico, and exotic
raw materials and manufactured items imported from far-off areas by the pochteca.
Some markets were noted for certain specialties, such as dogs (a food item for the
Aztecs), slaves or birds (which were valued for their feathers), while clothes, pottery
and painted gourds were sold in the markets frequented by barbers, porters, craft-
workers and even prostitutes seeking clients (p. 346).
Trigger draws a comparison between Yoruba itinerant or long-distance traders in
West Africa, though they were apparently not as formally-constituted as the pochteca.
Long-distance traders came from many different classes and included the wives and
sons of kings who were seeking to acquire wealth through trade. Women played a major
role in Yoruba trade at both the inter-city and local levels. The capital required to begin
trading was often provided by a woman’s husband. Slave-trading and commerce beyond
Yoruba ethnic territories tended to be done by men, some of whom were organized in
special associations. To travel more safely through dangerous regions, merchants would
form caravans and hire soldiers to protect them. They bought slaves, engaged porters to
carry their goods, or carried them themselves (p. 347).
Returning to Mesoamerica, Trigger mentions that ‘the Maya rulers and nobles of
historical times controlled interstate trade… Archaeologists have failed to identify
marketplaces in Classic Maya urban centers. If considerable food was being grown
around house clusters in urban centers as well as elsewhere there may have been less
stimulus for exchange between the urban nobility and craft specialists, on the one hand,
and farmers, on the other, than there later was in highland Mexico’ (pp. 348-349). This
fact, combined with the more dispersed distribution of Maya urban centers, might have
encouraged classic Maya rulers to control interstate trade themselves. Trading networks
were able to distribute substantial quantities of obsidian originating in Central America
throughout the Maya lowlands, although this broad distribution of imported raw
materials differed from distribution patterns in territorial states (p. 349).
Like the Mesopotamians, the people living in the Valley of Mexico (and perhaps
other regions of Mesoamerica), and the Yoruba, long-distance traders derived
substantial profits from transporting various types of goods from regions where they
were abundant and relatively cheap to places where they were scarcer or did not exist.
 525

In some cases, states used ‘currencies’ to simplify exchanges and pay for items during
commercial transactions. In the Valley of Mexico, for example, hollow quills filled with
gold dust, T-shaped copper ‘axes’, standard pieces of cotton cloth (quachtli), and cacao
beans, singly or in bags, provided units of exchange of different values. The pieces of
cloth used in commercial transactions were equivalent to between 65 and 300 cacao
beans each. These ‘currencies’ were used to standardize the value of the goods that were
being exchanged. The Yoruba and Chinese employed cowrie shells to pay for
purchases, while in Benin (West Africa) brass bracelets and pieces of cloth were also
used. In Mesopotamia, people used pieces of copper and silver stamped by the king as
currency to certify the quality of the metal, but these were still weighed individually to
determine their value. The Egyptians of the Old Kingdom used an unidentified standard
unit in connection with bartering and exchange, while in the New Kingdom the unit
used in trade was a silver disk weighing about 7.5 grams. Trigger says that ‘most of
these “currencies” were not only a means for facilitating exchanges but also a way to
store value. There is no evidence that in any early civilization a single commodity came
to be used as the sole measure of value for everything else that was bought and sold’ (p.
354).
In discussing the communication networks through which trade flowed in
ancient states, Trigger says that the transport of goods continued to rely on relatively
simple labor-intensive means. In Egypt and Mesopotamia, boats played a significant
role in transporting goods by river and sea, while donkeys were used to carry loads
overland. We know that wheeled vehicles were constructed in Mesopotamia, but there is
no evidence that carts played any significant role in long-distance trade. Although the
Egyptians were familiar with the principle of the wheel as early as the Old Kingdom
(ca. 2686-2181 BC), no wheeled-vehicles of any sort were used there until after the
Middle Kingdom (ca. 2055-1650 BC). In highland Peru, llamas carried loads of
medium weight, and in Mesoamerica canoes were used wherever possible. Yet, in
highland Mexico and among the Maya and Yoruba, human carriers transported most
goods over long distances. Mountainous and swampy terrains and the absence of large
domestic animals (or the difficulties of using animals in unfavorable climatic
conditions) may explain the heavy reliance on human carriers in these regions (p. 355).
Trade between cities may have been important in some states, but it did not
encourage the development of complex transportation and communications systems.
Apparently, the advantage of such systems for trade was counterbalanced by the fear
 526

that they would facilitate attack by neighboring states. In contrast, ‘government

activities in ancient Egypt and China and especially in the Inka kingdom led to
considerable investment in the construction and maintenance of transport systems. In
the Andes, the controlled movement of people and goods was essential for maintaining
the unity of the state’ (p. 357).
Returning once again to Mesoamerica, Kelley (2002) pointed out –in a
posthumous paper written before 1998– that ‘archaeologists generally accepted without
serious questioning the existence of a “Toltec” or “Tula-Mazapan” component, or
period, in the archaeological history of western and northwestern Mesoamerica’ (p. 99).
The archaeological phenomena that have been identified as ‘Toltec’ in the west and
northwest can be grouped into roughly four categories: (1) a number of supposedly
‘Toltec’ traits that are clearly widespread Early Postclassic horizon markers found in
association with a widely-distributed ceramic type (Plumbate) which appears at Tula as
a trade ware; (2) several archaeological sites located in the states of Jalisco, Guanajuato
and Queretaro that have produced ceramics and other traits related to those of the Tula-
Mazapan complex; that is, local Epiclassic cultures that appear to represent a basic
Tula-Mazapan type culture which may have contributed to later Toltec development; (3)
the development of a major stronghold at La Quemada, Zacatecas, that coincided with
the flourishing of Tula, where Tula-Mazapan ceramics were reportedly found, though
firm evidence is not yet available. La Quemada probably represents the best case for
Toltec intrusion into the northwest, but this conclusion is still debatable; and, (4) a chain
of related archaeological sites distributed along a continuous major travel route
extending from the lower Lerma River along the south side of Lake Chapala, and from
there northwestward to coastal Nayarit and as far north as Guasave in northern Sinaloa
(p. 99).
Kelley thought that ‘this incredibly long chain of related sites clearly represents
a major trade route, perhaps better described as an “interaction channel”. It has been
repeatedly identified as “Toltec” in affiliation, but Ekholm, who first recognized it,
correctly identified its Guasave component as Mixteca-Puebla, rather than Tula-
Mazapan’ (p. 101).
It appears that the Tarascans eventually took over the northwestern trade route
and thereafter developed a monopoly on West Coast metallurgy, and that ‘the
development of such a strong entity in the west effectively barred central Mesoamerica
from further participation in the northwestern trade network’ (p. 116).
 527

Stephen Kowalewski (2009) analyzed the role played by West Mexico in the
Mesoamerican trade system, writing that archaeologists working in Mesoamerica have
often framed questions about regional interaction in terms of cultural history based on
concepts such as ‘culture’ and ‘cultural influence’ between certain groups or areas,
although these cultural-historical concepts have inherent shortcomings that obscure
rather than illuminate the subject under investigation. In Kowalewski’s opinion, ‘it is
more productive to analyze those aspects of the archaeological record that reflect the
political economy, for example whether Mesoamerica’s different regions were changing
at more or less the same pace, perhaps due to similar processes, and taking part in a
common world of goods and commodities’ (p. 349); that is, a single trade system
spanning most of the ecumene.
According to this author, ‘one way to evaluate how people become attracted to
wider networks of interdependence is an approach that starts with trade goods, that is to
say things that people manufacture for exchange with others. Changes in the way in
which goods are produced, exchanged, modified and consumed may transform a
society’ (p. 354). In a fully-integrated, macro-regional economy, one would expect to
see the same ways of making and exchanging goods, and the same transformations
involving those goods, appearing at the same moment in all participating regions (p.
355). Therefore, if West Mexico took part in the same world of goods as Central
Mexico, Oaxaca, the Maya area, and other regions, then those goods and their
transformations should be similar to one another. In order to explore this issue,
Kowalewski discusses the ‘systemic importance’ of five strategic goods: obsidian, salt,
cotton cloth, cacao and ceramics in several Mesoamerican areas, including West
Mexico (pp. 354-355).
His analysis led him to the conclusion that West Mexico and regions to the east
and south participated in a common pattern of production and exchange of trade goods
during the Formative period. They all signaled individual status by means of a symbol
set, in which certain elements, referred to rather vaguely as ‘prestige goods’ in the
literature, played a very important role. Over many centuries, the highly-visible and
generalized exchange patterns of the Middle Formative became fragmented and
regionalized, reaching a point of crisis around 500 BC. Urbanism appeared in the Late
Formative, together with complex, differentiated regional economies and different kinds
of early states or chiefdoms. The manifestation of this process in Jalisco was the
Teuchitlán tradition, though this was not a time of strong integration at the macro-
 528

regional (i.e. Mesoamerican) level, and broad expanses of empty lands existed between
settlements within the ‘nuclear’ areas, with ample evidence of war and fortifications
(pp. 362-363).
It was in the Early Classic period that several neighboring areas developed long-
lasting economic links and greater economic integration, but a new cycle of
fragmentation began in the Late Classic and lasted until the Early Postclassic. Finally,
another phase of integration took place during the Late Postclassic, this one stronger
than ever before. Commercial networks often stretched out beyond the political
boundaries of small kingdoms, while empires such as the Tarascan and Aztec strove to
appropriate the wealth generated by this new economy (p. 363).
Kowalewski’s ideas are based in part on Blanton et al. (2005), who discussed the
subject of strategic goods and their role in cultural transformation. Those authors wrote
that ‘luxury goods are symbols of conspicuous consumption consumed by an elite, but
their exchange is not systemic (i.e. system-shaping). The exchange of staples, on the
other hand, is systemic because they account for a bigger share of a people’s economic
activity than luxuries’ (p. 261). According to Blanton et al., all the goods included in the
three categories they discuss in their paper (i.e. prestige, regional, and bulk luxury
goods) were central to processes of sociocultural change, as well as in the reproduction
of social and economic systems. The fact is that the Mesoamerican world of goods had
become comparatively luxurious by the Late Postclassic. Why this was so ‘is a question
whose answer would require a consideration of many topics related to… technology,
labor intensification, household economy, transport, distribution, consumer preferences,
and culture’ (p. 276). Bulk luxury goods –for example, Thin Orange pottery (e.g.
Carballo 2013)– can be traced back to the Classic period in a process that included the
expansion of the cotton and obsidian industries. But even more remarkable was ‘the
expansive incorporation of these and other bulk luxuries into economy and society by
the Late Postclassic. By the end of that period, a greater volume and diversity of costly
goods were in use’ (p. 276), and more regions could be regarded as being fully-
incorporated into the ‘global economy’ of the Mesoamerican ecumene —including, of
course, West Mexico.
 529

Figure 201. The distribution of the Aztatlán tradition in western and northwestern Mexico reached to the
northern limits of the ecumene (adapted from Foster 1999: Figure 11.1).

Figure 202. Excavations at Urichu, Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, during 1994. At the front-left is an excavated
tomb (see next figure); at the back is a floor associated with the Postclassic occupation (after Pollard
1996: Figure 4).
 530

Figure 203. Tomb excavated by Helen Pollard at Urichu, Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, showing the remains of
several individuals and the associated offerings (the squares measure 2 x 2 m) (adapted from Pollard
1996: Figure 5).

Figure 204. Map of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin showing the theoretical territories of each community
during the Early Postclassic period (adapted from Pollard 1995: Figure 1).
 531

Figure 205. Map of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin showing the available farmland during the Early Postclassic
(low lake level) (adapted from Pollard 1995: Figure 2).

Figure 206. Map of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin showing the available farmland during the Early Postclassic
(high lake level) (adapted from Pollard 1995: Figure 7).
 532

Figure 207. Map of the ancient city of Tzintzuntzan, capital of the Tarascan Empire on the shores of Lake
Pátzcuaro, Michoacán (adapted from Pollard 1993: Figure 2.1).

Figure 208. Artifacts made of animal bone probably used for weaving baskets, producing textiles or
similar tasks in the Lake Sayula Basin (courtesy of Ericka Blanco).
 533

Figure 209. These atlatl grips made of shell may represent hunting activities in the Lake Sayula Basin
(courtesy of Ericka Blanco).

Figure 210. Shell fragments excavated at La Peña in the Lake Sayula Basin suggest that shell-working
was one of the crafts that thrived here during the Aztatlán horizon (after Ramírez et al., 2005: Figure 10).
 534

Figure 211. This bone artifact from the Lake Sayula Basin may have been used as a ‘batten’; that is, a
weaving tool designed to push the weft yarn securely into place while using the back-strap loom (courtesy
of Ericka Blanco).

(a) (b)
Figure 212. These artifacts made of animal bone were likely used to weave cotton textiles in the Lake
Sayula Basin (courtesy of Ericka Blanco).
 535

Figure 213. Cross-section of the Lake Sayula Basin, indicating the different ecological zones and their
natural resources (adapted from Valdez 1998: Figure 4).

Figure 214. Earth mound covered with potsherds, or tepalcatera, and five structures probably linked to
salt production at Cerritos Colorados, Lake Sayula Basin (after Valdez et al. 1996b: Figure 6).
 536

Figure 215. Combustion structure probably used for producing salt (boiling brine) at Cerritos Colorados,
Lake Sayula Basin (after Valdez et al., 1996b: Figure 6).

Figure 216. Salt-making pots excavated by Carl Lumholtz in the late 19th century near the town of El
Reparo, to the south of the Lake Sayula Basin (adapted from Lumholtz 1986:315).
 537

Figure 217. Salt-making pots from the Lake Sayula Basin; (a-k): hemispheric bowls with red lines: (l-o):
Sayula salt pans (adapted from Liot 2005: Figure 83).

Figure 218. Pre-Hispanic features (combustion pits with pottery bowls) probably used for making salt
(boiling brine) in the Lake Sayula Basin (adapted from Liot 2000: Figure 83).
 538

Figure 219. Postclassic-period burial with flexed arms and legs from the site of San Juan Atoyac, in the
Lake Sayula Basin (after Acosta 1994: Figure 1).

Figure 220. Tarascan-style vessels with spout and ‘stirrup’ handle, found as burial offerings in the Lake
Sayula Basin (after Valdez and Liot 1994: figures on p. 293).
 539

Figure 221. La Campana (Colima) has many examples of monumental architecture, like this stairway
with a sculpture in the shape of a rattlesnake tail in front of the building (copyright © Arqueología
Mexicana/Editorial Raíces, Mexico City; used with permission).

Figure 222. La Campana persisted as a major center from Classic to Postclassic times. Here the main
pyramid is shown with the still-active Colima volcano in the background (after Jarquín 2002).
 540

Figure 223. El Chanal was a major site during the Postclassic period in northeastern Colima with many
monumental buildings and plazas (after Olay 2005: Figure 3).

Figure 224. Hypothetical reconstruction of the El Chanal settlement (partial view). The structures at El
Chanal included mounds, contention walls, and open spaces like patios or plazas (adapted from Olay
2004a: Figure 23).
 541

Figure 225. Bone tools from El Chanal, Colima, probably linked to textile production, working skins, or
some other activity (after Olay 2004: Figure SF 86 b).

(a) (b)
Figure 226. Tlaloc faces sculpted in stone from El Chanal. During the Early Postclassic period El Chanal
received cultural influences from central Mexico, like these rain-deity representations (a: copyright ©
Arqueología Mexicana/Editorial Raíces, Mexico City; reproduced with permission; b: after Olay 2004:
figure on cover).
 542

Figure 227. Female figure from El Chanal, Colima (height: 74.3 cm; width: 42 cm; copyright ©
Arqueología Mexicana/Editorial Raíces, Mexico City; reproduced with permission).

Figure 228. Two clay censers from El Chanal, Colima, with eagle features (a) and possible Tlaloc features
(b) (after Santiago and Fuentes 1996: figures on pp. 87 and 68).
 543

Figure 229. Anthropomorphic figure from El Chanal, Colima seated on an equipal (ca. 70 cm high).
(Courtesy of Hasso von Winning).

Figure 230. Motifs sculpted on the El Chanal ‘glyphic stairway’ include Mesoamerican deities such as
Tlaloc (4) and Ehécatl (7) (after Rosado 1948: Figure X).
 544

Figure 231. Round structure at Ixtlán, Nayarit. The shape of the building may be linked to the cult of
Ehécatl, the Mesoamerican wind god (after Zepeda 1994: Figure on cover).

Figure 232. Archaeological site of Los Toriles, located in Ixtlán del Río, Nayarit (adapted from Zepeda
1994:42).
 545

Figure 233. Details of the main sector at the archaeological site of Los Toriles. Key: (1) Round temple
dedicated to Ehécatl-Quetzalcoatl; (2) Palace of Reliefs; (3) Central altar, on the main plaza; (4) Palace of
Columns; (5) Palace of the Hearths; (6) Palace B-6; (7) Lateral altar; (8) Palace of the Four Columns; (9)
Wizard’s Room; (10) Palace of the Shrine; (11) ‘Stone’ Shrine; (12) Palace of the Superimposed
Columns; (13) Pyramidal Structure; (14) Momoxtli or Central Altar; (15) Palace (structure at right angle).
(Adapted from Zepeda 1994:42).

Figure 234. During the Postclassic period a new style of architecture and settlement pattern can be seen at
Amapa, Nayarit, which is reminiscent of central Mexico (adapted from Meighan 1976: Map 2).
 546

Figure 235. Ritual scene depicted on a vessel from the Amapa-Peñitas (Nayarit) area depicting the
meeting of several chieftains, possibly during a historic event (adapted from von Winning 1996: Figure
321).

Figure 236. Smoking pipes are a common occurrence at Aztatlán sites, like these items from Culiacán,
Sinaloa. From the abundance of smoking materials one could suggest that tobacco was an important crop
during the Aztatlán horizon (adapted from Kelly 2008: Figure 66).
 547

Figure 237. These artifacts from Culiacán, Sinaloa, were probably linked to basket- making and textile
production. Both activities were very important for the Aztatlán people during the Postclassic period. The
materials represented here are deer antler (a-b), and unidentified animal bone (adapted from Kelly 2008:
Figure 71).

Figure 238. Ceramic funerary urns from Culiacán, Sinaloa. The item on the right is covered by an
inverted bowl (after Kelly 2008: Plate 7).
 548

Figure 239. Map showing the Aztatlán trade system through which the Mixteca-Puebla tradition traveled
from central Mexico to the northern regions of the ecumene and beyond during the Late Postclassic
(adapted from Kelley 2000: Figure 9.4).

Figure 240. Aztatlán polychrome pottery from Guasave, Sinaloa, with Mixteca-Puebla features, as
defined by Gordon Ekholm in 1942 (adapted from Scott and Foster 2000: Figure 8.8).
 549

Figure 241. Aztatlán polychrome pottery from Guasave, Sinaloa, with Mixteca-Puebla features, as
defined by Gordon Ekholm in 1942: Cerro Isabel engraved bowls (a-b); Sinaloa Polychrome jars (c, d, g-
k); small legless jars (e-f) (adapted from Scott and Foster 2000: Figure 8.10).

Figure 242. Tripod bowl pertaining to the Aztatlán complex from Culiacán, Sinaloa, with incised
decoration reminiscent of the Mixteca-Puebla tradition (adapted from Kelly 2008: Figure 14).
 550

Figure 243. Summary scheme of decoration motifs of the Early Culiacán Polychrome pottery type,
pertaining to the Aztatlán tradition (adapted from Kelly 2008: Figure 19).

Figure 244. Early Culiacán Polychrome bowl (top), and Late Culiacán tripod bowl with ‘rattle supports’
(bottom). Both items are linked to the Aztatlán tradition and show some influence from the Mixteca-
Puebla style (adapted from Kelly 2008: Figures 24, 39).
 551

Figure 245. Culiacán Polychrome Early and Middle Types, showing Mixteca-Puebla iconography and
motifs (after Kelly 2008: Plate 1).
 552

Figure 246. Culiacán Polychrome Middle Type, showing Mixteca-Puebla iconography and motifs (after
Kelly 2008: Plate 2).

Figure 247. Spindle whorls pertaining to the Aztatlán tradition from Culiacán, Sinaloa. Cotton agriculture
and textile production were probably among the mainstays of the Aztatlán domestic economy (adapted
from Kelly 2008: Figure 69).
 553

(a)

(b)
Figure 248. The Feathered Serpent was associated with aquatic imagery and flowering plants in
Teotihuacan (a). This rendition of the mythical serpent bearing green (i.e. quetzal) feathers from the Early
Classic period could be an antecedent of the pan-Mesoamerican Quetzalcoatl cult (adapted from Berrin
[ed.] 1988: figure on p. 138). The Feathered Serpent is also present at Xochicalco, Morelos (b, adapted
from López Luján 1995: Figure 38).
 554

Figure 249. The plumed serpent denotes Quetzalcoatl, a quintessential Mesoamerican god and cultural
hero. To its right is Ehécatl, the wind god and Quetzalcoatl’s avatar, as depicted in the Laud Codex
(adapted from Brundage 1979: figure on p. 163).

Figure 250. Detail of a pseudo-cloisonné vessel from Jalisco decorated with a figure probably related to
Ehécatl, the wind god, according to Phil Weigand (adapted from Weigand 1992a: figure on p. 228).
 555

CHAPTER VII
THE TARASCAN EMPIRE IN THE MESOAMERICAN ECUMENE

This chapter consists of three parts: (1) a summary discussion of the Tarascan Empire in
the Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530), including the main cultural, political,
religious and economic aspects of Tarascan culture; (2) an examination of the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin as a key economic area of the Tarascan Empire; and (3) trade, tribute and
the transportation of strategic resources within the Empire. This chapter, like the rest of
the book, adopts a comparative perspective that relies on archaeological, ethnohistorical
and ethnographic information from the Mesoamerican ecumene and beyond.
During the Late Postclassic period, Mesoamerica was a culture area
characterized by expanding empires and warring peoples, such as the Aztecs in central
Mexico and the Tarascans in the west. According to Susan Evans (2004a), during the
Late Postclassic, or ‘the period from AD 1200 to 1520, much of Mesoamerica was
transformed into a set of polities whose actions came to be defined by their relations
with the Mexica Aztecs of Tenochtitlan’ (p. 446). We saw earlier that the Postclassic
period had as its predecessor the transitional Epiclassic period, characterized by the
decline of Classic elite Mesoamerican civilization. Teotihuacan’s power and influence
had ceased centuries earlier, and the rise of the militaristic states took place in the Early
Postclassic period (ca. AD 900-1200) (p. 426). We see on the Mesoamerican stage
around AD 1200 several cultural groups ‘migrating from one part of Mesoamerica to
another who were, generally, not nomadic hunter-foragers… Most migrants were,
rather, displaced farmers-artisans, accustomed to life in or near communities that had
ruling elites supported by the tributes of the commoners’, and with ‘markets for local
distribution of goods. These features are common to complex societies such as
advanced chiefdoms and states’ (p. 427). This ‘diaspora’ consisted in part of people
who were displaced from the northern margins of the ecumene because of increasing
aridity, while others were returning to their ancestral homeland after having migrated
north in search of living spaces when the climatic conditions allowed agriculture to
thrive there, according to Pedro Armillas’ (1964) theory of fluctuation of the northern
Mesoamerican frontier.
Ross Hassig (2008) states that ‘during the Early Postclassic… the Toltecs seized
control of the earlier trade network and significantly extended it, ultimately stretching it
as far south as Costa Rica and north into the desert, perhaps as far as the southwestern
 556

United States’ and covering parts of West Mexico. Like other Mesoamerican states and
empires, ‘the Toltecs were less a military than a trading empire that operated through
merchant enclaves and settlements instead of colonizing outlying areas. But military
power protected their merchants, and dispatching large forces was eased by
Mesoamerica’s increased population and growing agricultural productivity.’ Hassig
goes on to affirm that ‘there is no evidence’ that the Toltec Empire ‘contracted before it
collapsed. Rather, it disintegrated from within as the capital was abandoned in AD
1179. The cause, in part, was the influx of barbarian groups (Chichimecs) who…
imperiled Tollan’s trade links, raising the costs of maintaining its far-flung economic
empire’ (p. 284).
Evans (2004a), meanwhile, wrote that in the Postclassic period throughout
Mesoamerica ‘small independent polities were founded or… reestablished… These
were often city-states, encompassing an urbanized community and its surrounding
hinterland with farming villages. In any region, these small states would resemble each
other, exploiting the same kinds of resources and having the same kinds of political and
social organization’ (p. 428). Most of these political systems had a ruling dynasty with
several elite families that formed a privileged class with influence that went beyond the
political boundaries of their realms.
It is within this cultural scenario that West Mexican chiefdoms and states rose to
power in one of the major –but also one of the less well-known– regions of pre-
Hispanic Mesoamerica during the Postclassic period. The Tarascans were unique in
West Mexico in that they formed a state, and eventually an empire, that was able to face
off against their Aztec neighbors to the east.
The Tarascan Empire in the Protohistoric Period (ca. AD 1450-1530)
In the early 16th century, broad extensions of West Mexico were under the political
aegis of the Tarascan Empire, known as Irechecua Tzintzuntzani, the second-most
powerful empire in Mesoamerica after the Aztec Triple Alliance (Pollard 1993, 2009).
In 1522, the king (irecha or cazonci) ruled an area of over 75,000 km2 that encompassed
the greater part of the current state of Michoacán and portions of the neighboring states
of Jalisco, Guanajuato, Colima and Guerrero (Pollard 1993: Map 12). During the
Protohistoric period, the Tarascan state may have been the most strongly-centralized
polity in Mesoamerica. In fact, this kingdom offers an example of state formation that
shared some characteristics with ancient complex societies; namely, a high degree of
centralization of power and economic activities, and rapid expansion. However, its
 557

process of state formation cannot be understood outside its historical and ecological
contexts (Pollard 1993:181). The core geopolitical area of the Tarascan Empire was in
the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, where more than 90 communities were located with a
combined population of between 60,000 and 105,000 inhabitants (Pollard 2003a).
The natural setting where the Tarascans developed their culture over thousands
of years is a remarkable one. According to Guevara (1989), the landscape in Michoacán
is one of the most abrupt in Mexico with high elevations and deep depressions. The
reason for this is that Michoacán is at the meeting ground of five of Mexico’s largest
physiographic units (Figure 251); namely: (1) the Valleys and Wetlands; (2) the Central
Sierra; (3) the Hot Lands; (4) the Southern Sierra Madre; and (5) the Coastal Region (p.
10). Michoacán is certainly a land of bounty; indeed González (1991) wrote that from
the perspective of geography and ecology, it can be considered a microcosm that
comprises many, if not all, the regions found within Mesoamerica, a veritable ‘sample
book’ for the whole of Mexico (González 1991). According to González (1991),
traveling across Michoacán is equivalent to making the proverbial tour de monde, since
the state has all kinds of topographies: mountains, forests, lakes, valleys and rivers,
where one finds ‘all climates, plants and animals’ (p. 15) (Figure 252). González (1991)
breaks down the different regions of the Michoacán landscape into nine areas based on
geographic and cultural criteria: (1) Zamora Lowlands; (2) Morelia Region; (3)
Purépecha Plateau; (4) Thousand Peaks; (5) Balconies; (6) Balsas Depression; (7)
Tepalcatepec Hot Lands; (8) Southern Sierra Madre; and (9) Playa Azul (González
1991: map, p. 14). I have already mentioned that Michoacán means ‘land of fish’, a very
apt name given to this part of West Mexico by the Aztecs. This can be explained by
glancing at the map of lakes and rivers (Figure 253) that dominated the landscape for
thousands of years, and are still present today —albeit much-diminished.
Returning to our story, we know that around the year 1440, the Tarascans took
the first steps towards institutionalizing military conquests and developing a tributary
state (Pollard 1995), which entailed creating an administrative bureaucracy and
dispatching members of the nobility to the newly-conquered territories. In the ensuing
decades, this state launched a military expansion through which the ruling elite
conquered and annexed the central part of Michoacán (Pollard 2003a, 2009).
By the 16th century, the Tarascan state had achieved a high level of political
centralization and almost absolute control over its territory. Its central administration
was localized in Tzintzuntzan, the capital city, where the king had his court, dispensed
 558

justice, and received emissaries from outside his territories. The court included
members of the Tarascan nobility in a series of hierarchically-organized offices. Under
this royal court was an extended bureaucracy staffed by members of the nobility and
plebeians (Pollard 2003a). In fact, the Tarascan ‘nation’ was divided into two major
groups: on the one hand, the ‘nobility’, which consisted of two interrelated families that
belonged to the royal lineage and, on the other, the common people. Within the nobility
there were several strata: civil administrators, various groups of artisans, and probably a
group of professional merchants as well (Beltrán 1982). At the summit of the Tarascan
social structure was the irecha, or king, with his court. According to the Relación de
Michoacán (Alcalá 2008), when a cacique (chieftain) died in one of the towns of the
province, his brothers and other relatives came to see the cazonci bearing the dead
lord’s golden lip plug, ear flares, bracelets and turquoise necklaces, which were the
insignias of lordship that the cazonci had given upon making him a cacique (Figure
254). They would take those jewels and put them together with the cazonci’s jewels,
and the cazonci would say: ‘Poor man, he is dead. This is what the gods wanted’ (p.
205). Then he would give the new cacique a new golden lip plug, ear flares and
bracelets, and tell him: ‘Take [these] as a badge of honor, so that you will wear [them]’
(p. 205). Meanwhile, the corpse of the deceased lord was disposed of in a funeral pyre.
The royal palace was the center of activity and focus of the tributary networks
and redistribution systems (Figure 255). The nobility seems to have been divided into
two segments: those who served in the irecha’s court, and the administrators of the
tributary system (p. 79). In second place in terms of importance came the ‘captain
general for wars’ who organized the irecha’s military campaigns, followed in third
place by the main priest or petámuti, who enjoyed very high status in Tarascan society
(Figure 256) (pp. 84-85). Since the palace was the center of the kingdom’s fiscal
activities, the office of the ocambecha, or general tax collector, was also particularly
significant. This official supervised the taxes paid by each barrio (i.e. quarter or ward).
In addition to the officials named above, there were four preeminent lords –possibly
relatives of the irecha– who managed the kingdom, which was divided into four
provinces. The royal court included other lords, called achaecha, who often
accompanied the irecha, and may have been his direct relatives, though their function
within the government is not clear. Another group was formed by the guanguairecha, or
warriors. Finally, the caracha capacha were caciques or local chieftains named by the
 559

king to govern towns inside Tarascan territory. Their main function was to make sure
that all subjects paid their taxes on time (pp. 86-88).
Demographic pressure may have been one of the motives that help explain the
expansion of the Tarascan Empire, since the population of the Tarascan territory during
the Protohistoric period far exceeded the carrying capacity of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin,
so food had to be imported through the tribute system. The desire to obtain a wide range
of rare or exotic resources was another factor that lay behind the state’s expansion.
Among these goods were salt, copper, gold, silver, cinnabar, chalchihuites (green
stones), honey, wax, cacao, cotton, feathers, skins, axin (insects of the species
Coccus axin, used as ingredient in cosmetics, dyes and similar uses), vegetable fats and
gums, and resins (such as copal). All these goods could be found in the conquered
territories (Smith 1996:139).
According to Pollard (1993), by 1350 the lineage of Taríacuri, the first king of
the Tarascans, controlled the largest and richest parts of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin,
including the cities of Tzintzuntzan (Figures 257 and 258), Ihuatzio and Pátzcuaro,
while his allies dominated Urichu, Erongaríacuaro and Pechátaro. Taríacuri and his
cohorts then began to execute a series of military campaigns within and outside the
Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (p. 88).
One of the most important sites in the Tarascan realm is the ceremonial center of
Ihuatzio (Figure 259), constructed in the early 14th century near the center of the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin. The north section of this zone consists of two rectangular pyramid
platforms (Figure 260) facing east over a large enclosed plaza and ball court, called
querétaro (p. 152). The religious functions of this center were concentrated in a large
zone enclosed within high walls (Figure 261). The stone walls and major structures are
generally aligned to the cardinal directions, with the principal axis running north-south
(Figure 262).
Administrative control of the empire was performed through a series of ruling
centers, each one with several dependent communities, like Pátzcuaro (Figure 263).
These administrative centers reported directly to the palace at Tzintzuntzan, and each
one had several towns, villages and dispersed hamlets under its control (Pollard 1993).
The administrative hierarchy was divided into five levels. The power of the central
dynasty was directly-linked to the chieftains in each one of the minor administration
centers, and direct control of decision-making could even reach down to the hamlet
level (Pollard 2003a). As the territory under the direct control of the state increased in
 560

extension during the Protohistoric period, the political and economic success of the
Tarascans came to depend more and more on the successful integration of numerous
communities, which was necessary to ensure the efficient economic exploitation of
towns and natural resources, and to ensure the integrity of the state’s borders. In the
core area (the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin), local chiefs handled the centralized administration
directly, and this region seems to have been under the direct control of the political
capital. Around this core was an ‘assimilation area’ that, in terms of government,
reveals an entirely different political situation from the center. Many basic resources
required to forge the identity of the elite came from this outer area, including tropical
fruits, cacao, cotton, copal, jaguar skins, tropical bird feathers, gold, silver, copper and
tin. This zone was absorbed through state expansion in the 15th century, and became
increasingly strategic for maintaining Tarascan elite society (Pollard 2003a).
There were several channels in the Tarascan Empire (Figure 264) that facilitated
the circulation of goods and services, though under constant state supervision (Pollard
2000). These mechanisms included long-distance traders, the tribute system and various
customs through which the royal dynasty assigned aquatic and land resources to certain
members of the population. In addition, there were local and regional markets (Figures
265 and 266) that apparently supplied many kinds of goods to broad territories, some
located beyond the limits of the state itself (p. 77).
The important role of tribute in the economy of pre-Hispanic states like the
Tarascan or Aztec Empires cannot be exaggerated, especially during the Protohistoric
period. Eric Wolf (1982) has described three basic modes of production, which he
classifies as capitalist, tributary and kinship-based (p. 76). In discussing the tributary
mode of production, which best represents the situation in Mesoamerica on the eve of
the Spanish Conquest, he pointed out that the world’s primary agricultural areas in the
15th century were under the control of states whose existence was based on the
extraction of surplus production from primary producers by political rulers or military
leaders. At the apex of the system was a ruling elite that received the surplus, controlled
the strategic aspects of the production process (irrigation systems, for instance) and
wielded some means of coercion, such as an army (p. 80).
In discussing the Aztec political economy, Pedro Carrasco (1978) wrote that the
political aspect of economic organization was very important in ancient Mesoamerica,
based as it was on a highly-developed tribute system, huge royal warehouses, extensive
state-organized public works, and public lands owned by the king or some similar social
 561

or political entity. Thus, the key aspect of economic organization in ancient Mexico was
the fact that it was directed and regulated by a political organ. The economy was based
on a structure of domination defined by the existence of two main strata: the nobility, or
ruling class, which controlled the material means of production, and the commoners, a
working class politically- and economically-dependent on that nobility. In Carrasco’s
perspective on ancient political economy, the fundamental means of production –land
and labor– were both firmly under the control of the political organ (pp. 15, 23-24).
The way in which many archaic states were organized in order to make tribute
extraction more efficient consisted, precisely, in forming empires. Following Robert
McC. Adams (1979), by ‘empire’ we mean a particular kind of state system whose main
objective is to channel resources from subject polities to a ruling class that derives its
authority from the exercise of military power. One distinctive feature of empires is that
they strive to monopolize the flow of goods over extensive regions through economic
strategies –such as controlling markets– or the use of force. While the main concern of
such empires was territorial expansion, assuring internal control and protecting borders
were other key aspects that entailed maintaining a full-time army, as well as
fortifications to guarantee the integrity of their territories by repelling foreign
aggressions (Hassig 1985:90). However, the Mesoamerican states of the Postclassic
period did not have such formal, full-time armies, 1 and did not occupy all the lands
under their dominion. In this regard, they were similar to the Roman Empire, which did
not fortify or protect the totality of its territories but, rather, formed a core area of direct
control (called the ‘territorial empire’) surrounded by zones of diplomatic control
characterized by an interior area composed of ‘client states’ with an exterior one made
up of ‘client tribes’. Roman troops functioned as a campaign army, always available to
respond to threats, more than as an occupying force tied down to the land. Hence, this
empire was based more on political than territorial control (p. 92). Like the Roman
Empire, the Aztecs did not have to constantly deploy their army in the conquered
territories, since the threat of its force was usually more than enough to insure the
obedience of the client states (p. 93).
The Aztec imperial system was thus based more on political influence and
dominion than on strict territorial control. This fact is explained in part by the

1
Aztec warriors are not considered professional soldiers, since they were not engaged in this activity full-time. Whenever necessary,
the ‘army’ was formed from among the common people. This lack of a full-time military force made it difficult for the capital of the
empire to impose its political directives on the conquered territories, and made centralization virtually impossible (Hassig 1985:90-
91).
 562

limitations of Mesoamerican technology. The polities of this cultural area had no

efficient means of transportation and so were limited in terms of the space from which
they could efficiently extract tribute; a circumstance that decreased the economic
benefits of incorporating extensive regions. The Aztecs thus opted to exercise a
hegemonic rather than territorial form of control, and this produced an imperial
mechanism with unique characteristics (Hassig 1988). The result was that this
hegemonic empire was more like an alliance of states than a monolithic institution
constructed to obtain tribute from conquered peoples (p. 17, 26). The Tarascan Empire
may well have adopted a similar strategy. Among the Aztecs, territorial control over
conquered lands was achieved with different degrees of intensity and through various
means (Smith and Berdan 1996). The result was not a uniform or monolithic entity, but
a complex web of political, social and economic relationships forged through several
strategies, that included: (1) political strategies used by the state to strengthen its power
and control the empire’s core area (for instance, forging alliances with neighboring
states); (2) economic strategies designed primarily to procure riches for the state,
exemplified most clearly by the development of tribute systems; (3) border strategies in
which, on the one hand, client states in strategic provinces helped repel attacks by the
empire’s enemies through the creation of ‘buffer’ zones while, on the other, the state
created and maintained fortresses along its borders; and (4) what we might call an
‘elitist’ strategy based on establishing a network of local elites that linked virtually the
entire empire, purposefully developed and promoted by the state and members of the
elite who benefited from such relationships (pp. 1, 8).
In Mary Hodge’s (1984) study of Aztec city-states (called altepetl), we see that
city-states were affected in different ways by inclusion in the Aztec Empire. In some
cases an altepetl remained organized in its pre-imperial confederations and participated
in imperial affairs as part of these units, while other city-states became directly subject
to Tenochtitlan. In less centrally organized areas, more bureaucratic machinery was put
in place for administrative purposes, while in more hierarchically organized areas the
altepetl’s organization was simplified to adapt it to imperial administration (p. 150).
To better understand the nature of the Aztec and Tarascan states during the
Protohistoric period in Mesoamerica, it may be helpful to briefly highlight certain
contrasts with another vast empire that existed around the same time: the Inca state
based in Peru, for it did not share many basic aspects or important features of the
formers’ imperial structures. The Incas constructed a territorial empire in which land
 563

and labor were the two main sources of wealth. Local communities were incorporated
into the imperial state, which levied taxes on several wealth-producing resources
(Patterson 1991). The Inca state expropriated some of the croplands, pastures and herds
that had belonged to its subject communities and placed them at the disposal of the
nobility. Finally, whole communities were relocated in order to satisfy the strategic and
economic needs of state authorities. Clearly, the objective of the Inca Empire’s
domination strategies was to deprive subject communities of their means of production
(pp. 99-101). To achieve this goal, the empire relied on a full-time army with
professional soldiers, unlike the situation in Mesoamerica (Patterson 1987:119). As an
example of this process we would mention the fact that much of the workforce living in
Cuzco, the Inca capital, consisted of mitimaes; that is, people from other regions who
were transported en masse to the Cuzco Valley (Davies 2010). These forced migrants
formed part of the labor force and tended the Inca Emperor’s vast herds. In reality a
form of social engineering, the mitimae system played a vital role in the process of
conquest, as it helped pacify newly-acquired lands by removing troublesome residents
and replacing them with loyal vassals (pp. 235-236). This level of centralized control
and social planning over conquered territories was never seen in ancient Mesoamerica.
In the following section, I discuss one aspect of the development of the Tarascan
state as a true member of the Mesoamerican cultural tradition; namely, the processes of
urban life at Tzintzuntzan, the capital of the Tarascan Empire.

Pre-Hispanic Urbanization at Tzintzuntzan

Few studies have been undertaken to explore the general character and key features of
pre-Hispanic urban life at the Tarascan capital, in marked contrast to other urban centers
in Mesoamerica that have received much more attention from scholars, notably such
central Mexican sites as Teotihuacan (Millon 1981), Tula (Mastache et al. 2002; Healan
2012) and Tenochtitlan (Smith 1998). The fact that central Mexican cities are better-
known than their counterparts in other areas of Mesoamerica has contributed to creating
a prejudice in the minds of some people, who see urban sites like Teotihuacan, Tula and
Tenochtitlan –with their peculiar regional traditions and fundamentally commercial
nature– as the model of what a Mesoamerican city should be. This is unfortunate,
because they are not, in fact, representative of other pre-Hispanic Mesoamerican cities
(Marcus 1983:196).
 564

Like most ancient capitals (Marcus 2009), Tzintzuntzan offered its residents and
visitors ‘a wide range of services and opportunities, some of which occurred there and
nowhere else. Capitals could host unique events, such as the inauguration of rulers, the
dedication of state temples, and special festivities that only took place in royal palaces,
plazas, and private courts’. In these capital cities, ‘individual households varied in their
access to local and imported items, but most items fell along a continuum from
relatively scarce to quite abundant rather than present/absent’ (p. 257).
Sanders and Webster (1988) define cities as settlements that have three main
characteristics: (1) a large population; (2) a dense, nucleated population; and (3) marked
internal heterogeneity. Secondary attributes would include secularism, anonymity and
mobility (both upward and spatial). Heterogeneity refers to the existence of a wide
variety of ways of life produced by differences in access to political power, wealth and
group affiliation, as well as to the different economic status and roles found within the
population (p. 521). Data derived from recent archaeological and ethnohistorical
research seem to indicate that Tzintzuntzan amply meets the requirements to be
considered an urban center of great magnitude and complexity (Gorenstein and Pollard
1983; Pollard 1993; Castro Leal 1986).
Pre-industrial cities like Tzintzuntzan have also been defined as ‘central places’
where several activities are concentrated, which may be political-administrative,
economic, ceremonial, or ritual in nature. These central places are permanently
occupied by people whose activities differ from those of the population at large, and
who exercise an unusually great degree of power in decision-making in ritual, political
and/or economic affairs (Sanders and Webster 1988). Three functional types of urban
centers –royal-ritual city, administrative city, and mercantile city- are found in pre-
industrial societies (p. 523). Generally-speaking, Tzintzuntzan functioned as an
administrative city and probably also as a royal-ritual one, as will be discussed in
greater detail below. Sanders and Webster (1988) define an administrative city as one
whose principal function is political in nature. Administrative cities are the capitals of
states or administrative centers within political systems that consist of multiple urban
centers. They are extensive and complex, and the political systems they serve are large,
bureaucratically-structured and highly-centralized. Administrative cities serve as the
place of residence not only for the ruling family and the hereditary aristocracy, but also
for a multitude of officials and their families, together with a professional military class,
 565

all of whom are supported by taxes extracted from the rural communities in the territory
under the city’s political control. The city’s internal organization is highly-stratified.
George Cowgill’s (1992) discussion of social differentiation at Teotihuacan is
relevant to our understanding of the nature of social relations in all Mesoamerican cities,
including Tzintzuntzan. Cowgill observes that ‘not all important social distinctions in
ancient Mesoamerica… can be characterized adequately by means of a single one-
dimensional scale from low to high… The task of understanding is even harder for
archaeologists’ (p. 206). First, we should understand that ‘membership in a particular
class… is characterized by eligibility or ineligibility to hold certain offices, follow
certain occupations, or display a certain lifestyle’ (p. 206). Most members of these
different classes may well have had distinct lifestyles, especially if sumptuary laws were
enforced by the state. Cowgill holds that ‘it may become possible to identify such
styles… archaeologically —by differences in residences, locations of residences,
household furnishings, and household refuse’ (p. 206).
Cowgill believes that ‘holding a particular office and/or following a particular
occupation is related to the way society was organized. What were the recognized
offices and the hierarchy or hierarchies of office? To what extent were priestly, military,
administrative, judicial and other offices distinct?’ (p. 207). Offices may be
distinguished by archaeologists ‘by differences in dress, regalia, and other signs or
symbols of office. These may accompany officeholders after death as grave goods, and
they are often shown in art… Also, offices that are distinct may be exercised in certain
types of structures (e.g. temples, palaces, courts of law)’ (p. 207). Diverse occupations
can, in fact, be recognized in the archaeological record because they usually ‘leave
behind relatively abundant amounts of distinctive and imperishable tools or discarded
by-products’ (p. 207).
A third variable to look for ‘is simply generalized wealth. Archaeologists have
found this easiest to deal with. One can characterize burials or refuse associated with
particular structures or neighborhoods in terms of some reasonable assumptions about
the cost or ‘preciousness’ of various categories of objects.’ Finally, ‘graves and
structures themselves can be characterized according to their size, quality, and location’
(p. 207).
The kind of analysis presented by Cowgill above has seldom been attempted in
West Mexico. In this regard, Pollard’s work at Tzintzuntzan is remarkable because she
has followed a holistic approach that integrates archaeological, ethnohistorical,
 566

ethnographic and geographical perspectives (Pollard 1993, 2000, 2011, 2016). Thanks
to this interdisciplinary approach, she has been able to understand how pre-Hispanic
Tzintzuntzan flourished on the margins of Lake Pátzcuaro. The lands occupied by the
city in the Protohistoric period were located in two environmental zones: the lake
margins and the low hillsides. According to Pollard (1993), the area covered by the pre-
Hispanic city was at least 6.74 km2, and its population may have been between 25,000
and 35,000 inhabitants, with a density of 4,452 people per km2 in the residential areas
(Pollard 1993:31-33). Pollard (1993) has identified three distinct urban categories
within Tzintzuntzan: (1) residential areas; (2) manufacturing areas; and (3) public areas.
What follows is a brief discussion of each one of these zones.
Residential Areas. These were identified archaeologically by the presence of lithic and
ceramic material suggestive of activities linked to food preparation, serving and storage.
Type I residential areas were interpreted as plebeian barrios inhabited by the city’s low-
status people. Research in other areas of Mesoamerica has produced comparative data
useful for understanding Tarascan urbanism and domestic contexts (Hirth 200b). At
Copilco and Cuexcomate (two provincial Aztec sites in the state of Morelos), for
instance, houses were small (with a mean area of 15 m2) and built of adobe brick walls
supported on stone foundations. Every house contained a variety of incense burners and
small ceramic figurines for domestic rituals (Smith 1997:60-61). These houses may
have been similar to Tarascan plebeian dwellings.
Type II residential areas appear to be associated with Tzintzuntzan’s highest-
ranking social group, including the cazonci (king) and his family. Tarascan royal
palaces may not have been very different from Aztec ones. In Aztec royal courts there
was a daily convergence of hundreds of people, including visitors and residents, the
king’s family members, courtiers and servants. The Aztec palace, or tecpan, thus
combined administrative, residential and courtly functions, as well as activities linked to
government, hospitality, ritual and everyday work (Evans 2001, 2004b).
At Tzintzuntzan, Type III residential areas were interpreted as being of
intermediate status, though this does not represent a ‘middle class’ in the modern sense
of the term. Rather, these areas represent the lower rungs of the higher status group in
the city’s social structure.
Finally, another urban area (type IV) may have been inhabited by a non-
Tarascan ethnic group residing in Tzintzuntzan (probably Otomi or Matlatzinca)
(Pollard 1993:34-42). In fact, it would not be surprising to discover that Tzintzuntzan
 567

had a large population of people from other parts of Mesoamerica as permanent

residents, as this was customary in many Mesoamerican cities. In Teotihuacan, for
instance, Manzanilla (2012) describes a ‘city of many faces, the most important of
which is that of being an exception in Mesoamerica. [Teotihuacan was] an inclusive
corporate society… its multiethnic character embedded deep in its structure,
Teotihuacan did not resemble any other contemporary site in Mesoamerica’ (p. 55).
Teotihuacan had different sectors ‘where foreign ethnic groups were based… The
Oaxaca Barrio, the Merchant’s Barrio housing people from the Gulf Coast, and the
Michoacán sector… were all set in the periphery of the city, where people coming from
other regions first settled’ (p. 57).
At the base of Teotihuacan society there were corporate groups who occupied
multi-family residential apartment compounds that shared a common activity, though
the families living there might worship a deity distinct from that of their neighbors.
Each barrio had a ‘coordination center’ around which there were multi-family
residential compounds. There may have been 22 barrio centers throughout the ancient
city, perhaps spread in four districts. One of these barrio centers is known as
Teopancazco, which was discussed in Chapter V. Several of the individuals found at
Teopancazco during Manzanilla’s (2019) archaeological excavations had migrated to
the city thanks to the caravans organized from each barrio center, coming from regions
that had trade links with the Teotihuacan merchants. We know that caravans came from
as far afield as Veracruz (p. 30).
The archaeological remains of habitation areas are very poor in Tzintzuntzan,
except for constructions known as ‘palaces’, which correspond to the dwellings of the
ruling elite (Acosta 1939). Because these remains are so scarce, we must turn to
ethnohistorical sources, such as the Relación de Michoacán (Alcalá 2008) to understand
the different types of dwellings used by the Tarascans. These consisted of the following:
(a) palaces: relatively large houses with several rooms and a portico; (b) one-room
houses divided into several sub-types according to the roofing material; (c) ranchos,
small, circular huts built of reeds or other plants where men would spend the night
while out hunting in the hills; (d) trojes, one-room, circular constructions used for
storage; and, finally (e) the houses of the high priests, which had only one large room
and a door divided by painted and sculpted wooden posts (Castro Leal 1986:64-66).
Because of the scarce evidence of house constructions and households among
the Tarascans, we have to seek comparative information from outside Michoacán.
 568

Kristin de Lucia (2017b), for example, has conducted excavations of pre-Hispanic

houses in the Basin of Mexico. She holds that ‘many of the activities of daily life take
place within or around houses. So it is here, at the household level, that we can explore
how the practices of ordinary Aztecs intersected with the macro-levels of social,
political, and economic organization. Because Aztec studies have focused so
extensively on the study of the elites –their temples, palaces, and monuments– the study
of households offers us a window into the lives of the less visible but vast majority of
the population: the commoners’ (p. 247).
Households provided the basic structure for most activities –agricultural,
subsistence, craft, ritual and commercial– and served as the fundamental social unit. We
can use the physical remains of houses and the archaeological remains of the activities
that took place within them to reconstruct the organization of those ancient social units.
This allows us to study the daily practices that were part and parcel of the cultural use of
domestic space. The study of Aztec households relies on a rich ethnohistorical data set,
in addition to well-preserved archaeological remains. Although most houses in the
Aztec capital are covered over by modern-day Mexico City, household archaeology
conducted in the surrounding regions of the Basin of Mexico has been instrumental for
understanding the lives of Aztec commoners (p. 247).
Among the Aztecs, as in other Mesoamerican cultures, ‘craft-production
activities typically took place within domestic contexts rather than within specialized
workshops. In the city-state of Otumba, for example… [there is] evidence of household-
based craft production’ (p. 254). This included domestic workshops that manufactured
or processed the following items: ‘Obsidian cores and blades, lapidary items, ground-
stone objects, figurines, censers, and spindle whorls. Craft-producing workshops tended
to be aggregated in barrios or wards with other households producing similar goods’ (p.
254). Another example discussed by de Lucia is Xaltocan, an island community in the
northern Basin of Mexico, whose ‘inhabitants were involved in the extraction and
processing of lake resources… Archaeological excavations discovered activity areas as
well as production activities, including the processing of fish along with other activities
associated with lake exploitation like weaving tule mats, making bone tools, and
producing pottery vessels. These households can be characterized as multicrafting
workshops producing goods that could be sold at the marketplace’ (p. 254).
Manufacturing Zones. Three types of lithic workshops were discovered at
Tzintzuntzan (Pollard 1993). Type 1 was dedicated to producing tools, primarily blades.
 569

There, artisans made basic, generalized tools that were later modified and utilized in
residential areas. Type 2 lithic workshops produced rough obsidian blades, flakes and
artifacts of unknown use with notches or points, earspools, lip plugs, cylinders and
discs. Finally, Type 3 lithic workshops contained large obsidian scrapers, though the
absence of evidence of obsidian-processing suggests that these tools were made
elsewhere. The tasks performed at these sites may have included the preparation of
skins, woodworking and maguey-scraping to prepare pulque, among others (Pollard and
Vogel 1994). In addition to the manufacturing zones mentioned above, there must have
been many more work areas associated with other crafts such as basketry, carpentry,
hide-processing, textile-elaboration, pottery-making, and so on, but those workshops
may not have left archaeological traces, or are yet to be found.
Hirth et al. (2019) report the excavation of an obsidian workshop in the Tlajinga
district of Teotihuacan, discuss the lithic technology found there, and examine the
archaeological contexts in terms of what they tell us about in situ obsidian craft activity.
Those authors arrived at the conclusion that the compound they studied was a locus of
large-scale obsidian craft production during the Classic period, one of many workshops
that existed in ancient Teotihuacan. This example is certainly useful for analogy aimed
at interpreting Tarascan lithic industries.
Public Zones. The principal public zone in Tzintzuntzan was the main platform or
central plaza. In the center of this platform we find six constructions known as yácatas
(Figure 267), which were dedicated to the religious cult. In addition to this enormous
plaza, there are four sites designated as secondary public areas, which functioned as
local religious centers (Pollard 1993). On a far greater scale, the sacred precinct at
Tenochtitlan (Figure 268) was a place for congregation and religious observance, with
a similar function to that of the main plaza and the yácatas at Tzintzuntzan in a pattern
of urban planning common to many Mesoamerican cities.
No area of Tzintzuntzan seems to have functioned solely in a political or
administrative context. The buildings known as casas del rey (king’s houses) served a
political purpose, but also functioned as residences for the king and the royal court, in
addition to incorporating political and religious functions, as well as certain
manufacturing activities. Other public areas mentioned in the Relación de Michoacán
(Alcalá 2008) include the casa de águilas (eagles’ house, probably reserved for
warriors), a jail, a zoo, storage facilities for grain, cotton blankets –which were used as a
 570

unit of exchange throughout Mesoamerica– and other tribute goods, a ball court, baths,
a market, and burial grounds.
Among the Aztecs, royal ‘pleasure parks’ were reserved for the elite. They
included enclosed gardens and zoos with all kinds of plants and animals, as well as
special facilities for ball games or gambling and for playing many different board
games. Other special places included facilities for observing astronomical phenomena
and performing poetry, music and dance (Evans 2000). In these respects, both Aztecs
and Tarascans followed a common Mesoamerican urban tradition.
The only sectors within Tzintzuntzan that appear to have been deliberately
planned are the political and religious areas. Judging by the few archaeological
investigations, the ethnohistorical information in the Relación de Michoacán, and maps
from the colonial period, Tzintzuntzan shows planning for individual structures and
some activity areas, though not for the city as a whole (Pollard 1993:45-54). According
to Marcus (1983), the simplest formal dichotomy in the study of pre-industrial cities is
that between planned and unplanned cities. The former usually have rectangular
components, straight streets that form grid patterns and repetitive units of some
standardized dimensions. The best example of a planned city in Mesoamerica is, of
course, Teotihuacan, with its straight avenues, geometric proportions and well-
organized habitation compounds (Millon 1981).
Unplanned cities, such as Tzintzuntzan, frequently show a lack of formality and
are characterized by a radial growth pattern, as opposed to the axial pattern
characteristic of planned urban centers. Many Mesoamerican cities combined both of
these features, as they had a planned ‘inner city’, or center, where the secular and
religious public structures are found, and an unplanned ‘outer city’, or periphery, which
reflected random growth in residential areas (Marcus 1983:196). Examples of this type
of city are common in the Maya area, where sites like Copán are divided into two basic
components: a densely-settled urban core (within a radius of ca. 1 km from the center of
the main group of buildings) that holds most of the elite residential compounds, and a
rural or non-urban sector where population density decreases progressively as one
moves away from the center. There is nothing to suggest the existence of a grid plan for
the city of Copán, where all the sites and barrios show a random distribution (Fash
1991:155-156). In Tzintzuntzan, however, there is ample evidence of the existence of
barrios during the Protohistoric period. These units probably played a role in regulating
marriage, as well as serving as locales for ceremonial and religious activities.
 571

Tzintzuntzan had 15 barrios in 1593, each one with its own chapel. In 1945, local
informants could remember 13 of these and pinpoint the location of 11. Unfortunately,
it has not been possible to locate the barrios at this pre-Hispanic settlement because
there has been some confusion during the last centuries concerning their original names
and locations (Pollard 1993:59). Tzintzuntzan had at least 15 endogamic territorial units
with ceremonial functions, while artisans and other specialists were located in separate
barrios. According to the Relación de Michoacán, there was a secondary level of
territorial clustering within the pre-Hispanic city, a sub-division of the barrio that
consisted of 25 households and was used for tax-collection purposes, collective
participation in public works and the realization of censuses (Pollard 1993:59-60).
Many Mesoamerican cities were divided into quarters or barrios. Tenochtitlan,
for instance, was divided in four sectors, which were sub-divided in tlaxillacallis, or
barrios, that had the same names as the units known as calpullis. The latter term refers
to corporate social groups whose members shared the same occupation and belonged to
a common ritual circle. In the Aztec capital, each barrio was sub-divided into house
groups for administrative purposes (Calnek 1976:296-297). In contrast, there is no
evidence for calpullis or similar groups at Tzintzuntzan.
Several centuries earlier, Tenochtitlan-style barrios had apparently existed in
Teotihuacan as well, where they may have formed corporate entities that functioned as
important administrative units of state control and for the organization of local activities
(Millon 1981:210). Around the same period as Teotihuacan (early Classic, before ca.
AD 750), the city of Monte Albán, in Oaxaca, had 15 territorial sub-divisions, including
the central plaza and its neighboring areas. In most of these areas there is evidence of
craft production, including manufacturing sites where the following goods were
produced: grinding stones (manos and metates), ceramic objects and stone axes, as well
as artifacts made of shell, obsidian, quartz and flint. Market areas have also been
identified at Monte Albán, together with ritual spaces and other areas where large
groups of people would have congregated (Blanton et al. 1981:95).
One final example of differences in residential structures that followed
variations in wealth and access to power and privilege in pre-Hispanic urban contexts
comes from the city of Xochicalco during the Epiclassic period (ca. 750-900). Here,
Kenneth Hirth (2009c:47) distinguished several types of residential structures: ‘Large
courtyard residences representing the highest level of elite housing… houses
constructed on… wide terraces’ and ‘cluster residences consisting of groups of
 572

structures built on the slopes between major terraces’. This last category defined by
Hirth pertains to ‘compact residences representing the small isolated domestic structures
of the poorest individuals’.
One important discovery made by Hirth at Xochicalco was that ‘residential
compounds…were organized and operated as corporate entities… Evidence for
corporate behavior is found in shared architectural space, the organization of work,
indications of social differentiation, and integration of the residence under a single
household head’ (p. 49). Although this arrangement was not necessarily present in
Tzintzuntzan or other cities during the Protohistoric period, this notion of ‘corporate
entities’ is certainly worthy of analysis in the context of pre-Hispanic urbanism in all
areas of Mesoamerica.
Returning to Tzintzuntzan, we see that according to Pollard, political and
religious functions were important for the city’s growth, but economic activity was
embedded in other systems, or was peripheral to the basic power structure. Religious
and political centers were centrally-located, well-demarcated and of relatively large size
with a high degree of planning in their structures, elements and areas. Commercial and
manufacturing areas, on the other hand, were peripheral and dispersed, apparently with
no planning. In summary, Tzintzuntzan’s initial growth seems to have been generated
by political rather than economic factors, in marked contrast to other Mesoamerican
urban centers, such as Teotihuacan or Tenochtitlan (Pollard 1993:62).
It has been said that the Tarascan state did not wholly take part in the
Mesoamerican urban tradition (Pollard 1980:677), since Tzintzuntzan was its only truly
urban center. But this state was characterized by a complex, overlapping network of
specialized ‘central places’; a situation that should be taken into account when
attempting to compare Tarascan sites with other expressions of the Mesoamerican urban
tradition. At one level, each city is unique and shows characteristics that must be
explained according to specific variables, in keeping with its own environmental and
cultural setting. At another, however, we must compare and generalize, and we can do
so in a productive way as long as we bear in mind the fundamental processes that affect
urban development in different sociocultural contexts (Sanders and Webster 1988:544-
545). Finally, sociologist Louis Wright’s words should help us understand the enormous
degree of variability within the urban tradition present in different Mesoamerican
regions, including ancient Michoacán: ‘Each city, like any other object of nature, is, in a
sense, unique’ (Wright 1983:195, cited by Sanders and Webster 1988).
 573

The ‘centralist’ attitude adopted by many archaeologists working in

Mesoamerica usually holds that only in Central Mexico and points south did true
Mesoamerican civilization flourish. They wrongly believe that the Mesoamerican urban
tradition was unknown in the western expanses of Mesoamerica, an area regarded by
many archaeologists as a cultural backwater compared to the achievements visible in
Teotihuacan, Oaxaca, the Gulf Coast and, most of all, the Maya area.
Many years after Pollard’s original fieldwork at Tzintzuntzan, Christopher
Stawski (2011) applied new analytical methods and techniques in an attempt to resolve
many questions concerning the use of space and, in general, the urban characteristics of
this pre-Hispanic city. Stawski holds that Tzintzuntzan ‘was an important urban center
that showed a high degree of division into residential zones, but at the same time
showed a low level of urban planning’ (Figure 269). In his research, Stawski
discovered that ‘some patterns emerge to highlight the economic, social, political and
religious behavior of certain social classes within this ancient city’ (p. 53), concluding
with the observation that studying the relationships between ceramic remains at the site
and the social status of its ancient occupants allowed him to develop a more detailed
concept of the use of space in Tzintzuntzan in relation to social classes. He also
succeeded in considering the implications of the overlap of political, religious and
economic phenomena in the context of the Tarascan state. Clearly, the Tarascan
political system had a high level of insertion into the religious and ritual aspects of
society (p. 64).
Thanks to the work of Dominique Michelet (1998) and his associates, we know
that Tzintzuntzan was not the only example of a large settlement divided into barrios in
Michoacán, for this characteristic is also present at Las Milpillas, a Late Postclassic site
in the malpaís area of the Lake Zacapu Basin. Based on the survey of the Las Milpillas
site, and on general observations of other sites in the region, the occupation of the area
during the period in question seems to have consisted of a habitat that was in part
nucleated but dispersed at the same time. The surveyed zone of Las Milpillas had an
average density of 718 dwellings per square kilometer. Like most settlements of the
period, Las Milpillas had clear features of internal organization: causeways, footpaths,
ramps and stairways connecting one building unit to another (p. 49).
Michelet was able to detect several discrete groups or barrios (Figure 270) at
Las Milpillas, each one located around a plaza dominated by a pyramidal structure or
yácata. Near the latter structures Michelet usually found one or more large ‘houses’ that
 574

may have had a public function, as well as one or more altars. Based on these findings,
he proposed the existence of clusters of buildings that constituted a link between
individual structures and the general group (i.e. settlement); that is to say, true
neighborhoods or barrios.
Another study of the urban nature of Tzintzuntzan and its role as capital of a
sprawling empire was conducted by Ben Nelson (2004), who examined the role of
‘palaces’ in West Mexico as indicators of social complexity. According to this author,
‘the definition of palaces is inextricably linked with the nature of political power, which
is variably constituted according to local traditions, so that palaces and other elite-
related architecture must be understood in local terms’ (p. 59). In other words, elite
residences in West Mexico are not necessarily identical to their counterparts elsewhere
in Mesoamerica, but adhere to a local tradition with a particular ‘flavor.’ Nevertheless,
they follow in the Mesoamerican tradition by being associated with special architectural
features, such as elaborate ball-game courts, like the ones at Los Guachimontones,
Teuchitlán, Jalisco (e.g. Weigand and Weigand 2005). Nelson holds that ‘palaces are
the residences of the principal power holders in stratified polities. The occupants are not
merely of high status, but are first-order nobility; the existence of palaces is part of what
distinguishes the residents materially from mere members of a privileged class’ (p. 59).
In his view, ‘palaces are durable statements of social and economic order and about the
place of particular occupants in that order. Built to actively reinforce such distinctions,
palaces are overtly more elaborate in materials and size than other residences, have a
different internal spatial syntax than commoners’ residences, and are often embellished
with religious or cosmological symbols’ (p. 60).
In his discussion of Tarascan palaces, Nelson first states that pre-Hispanic
Tarascan society was ‘politically integrated as a state; scholars have long considered
their dominion to constitute an empire. Their metallurgy and other technological and
aesthetic achievements paralleled, if not exceeded, those of Central Mexico. On the
basis of these characteristics, one might predict strongly hierarchical and individualizing
rulership, which is in fact what the [historical] documents suggest’ (p. 73).
The existence in the Tarascan domain of both individual-centered rulership and
palaces before the Spanish invasion is already attested to archaeologically, for the
archaeological evidence includes ‘a richly appointed grave with a central individual and
sacrificed retainers,’ as well as ‘a structure known as Palace B… [which] consists of a
complex arrangement of contiguous rooms’ (p. 73). Because West Mexico was part of
 575

the Mesoamerican ecumene, we should be able to look at other areas of Mesoamerica

for examples to shed light on the subject of Tarascan urbanism, including its nature and
material manifestations, among many other aspects. According to Michael Smith
(2016), ‘Mesoamerican cities… exhibit several fundamental principles of urban
planning… First, most cities had a standard set of civic buildings: temple-pyramids,
smaller shrines, ball courts, and royal palaces.’ In adherence to the Mesoamerican
canon, ‘these buildings were arranged carefully around formal rectangular plazas... most
of the civic architecture was concentrated in an epicenter, and large cities often had
smaller, subsidiary ceremonial zones.’ One last characteristic common to most
Mesoamerican urban arrangements was that ‘commoners and lower-ranking elites built
their houses in neighborhoods around the epicenter without planning or direction from
the king or central administration. In most Mesoamerican cities, residential density was
low (compared to Old World cities) because major areas were dedicated to cultivation
as gardens or infields’ (p. 1).
In both Tarascan and Aztec cities, artisans were indispensable members of
society. Smith (1998) states that ‘in a complex society like that of the Aztecs, the
producers of goods played an important role. Work was heavily specialized, and a
relatively small group of people was relied upon to manufacture most of the goods that
people used in their homes, temples, and workplaces’ (p. 85). Smith distinguishes two
types of craft industries among the Aztecs and other groups in central Mexico (and
elsewhere in Mesoamerica): utilitarian and luxury. ‘The nature and organization of work
in each of these sectors had very different implications for the lives of both producers
and consumers. Utilitarian goods such as sandals or pottery vessels were produced by
part-time artisans, who worked in their homes and sold in the marketplace’ (p. 85). In
contrast, ‘luxury items such as gold jewelry or stone sculptures were fashioned in the
workshops’ pertaining to ‘full-time artists who worked directly for elite patrons’ (p. 85).
One of the crafts that interest us here is pottery production (Williams 2017).
According to Smith (1998), ‘Aztec kitchens were equipped with a variety of pottery
vessels for cooking, preparing, and serving food. Each family probably had one or two
painted water jars; several flat tortilla griddles (comalli); cooking pots of various shapes
and sizes for beans, sauces, and other foods; a pot to soak maize in’ (p. 89). The typical
Aztec kitchen pottery assemblage (Figure 271) also included ‘a rough-bottom tripod
grinding dish for chilies and tomatoes; a salt jar; and various plates, bowls, and cups for
meals. In addition to kitchenware, pottery was used for religious items (figurines and
 576

incense burners) and tools (spindle whorls and special bowls to support the spindle
during the spinning of cotton thread)’ (p. 89). On special occasions, such as weddings, a
particular ceramic assemblage was used (Figure 272).
Also relevant for the present study is Dan Healan’s (2014) discussion of
families, households and their material manifestations in Postclassic Mesoamerica,
which sheds light indirectly on the Tarascan urban tradition and the many activities that
were usually performed in households there. Healan says that ‘the most basic unit of
domestic organization consists of at least one but usually a group of individuals who
“live together”, that is, eat, sleep, store property, and perform basic living tasks and
functions in close, intimate proximity. Most such groups consist of families, although it
is probably better not to assume this a priori, especially when dealing with
archaeological situations’ (p. 67). Healan uses the word ‘family’ with caution because it
‘is an ambiguous term that subsumes nuclear and variants of supranuclear entities…
Despite these shortcomings… “family”, in reality a nuclear family,’ is used in his study
‘to refer to the most basic unit of domestic organization.’ Healan ends with the
following statement: ‘Although clearly a basic social entity, the family is an economic
entity as well, typically the minimal unit of production, distribution, and consumption
that exists within a community’ (p. 67).
After this overview of Tarascan culture, in the following section I will discuss
the Lake Cuitzeo Basin as an example of a ‘key economic area’ in the Tarascan Empire.
The Lake Cuitzeo Basin: A Key Economic Area of the Tarascan Empire
Before the Spanish conquest, the Lake Cuitzeo Basin was a key economic area for the
Tarascan Empire, since it had an excess of natural resources and key commodities, such
as obsidian, salt, and many aquatic species of plants and animals. Also, near Lake
Cuitzeo there are deposits of copper, silver, tin and other minerals (Williams 2009b).
This basin forms part of the Lerma River region, an area blessed with forests, rivers,
swamps, lakes and fertile land in abundance (Weigand and Williams 1999). The key
economic area concept was developed by the Chinese historian Ch’ao-Ting Chi in his
book Key Economic Areas in Chinese History. First published in 1936, this book is still
in print, attesting to its great value (Chi 2019). In the case of Mesoamerican
archaeology, Palerm (1955), Wolf (1959) and others (e.g. Sanders1962;
Armillas1948[1991]) followed a similar approach –based on cultural ecology– in their
study of the Basin of Mexico, as discussed in the introduction to the present volume.
 577

In his study of Chinese history, Chi (2019) stated that ‘the concept of the Key
Economic Area throws light on every fundamental problem in Chinese history. It
emphasizes the local and regional character of Chinese economy… It was… held
together by military and bureaucratic domination through the… control of the Key
Economic Area’ (pp. xii-xiii). Chi also points out that:
The existence of the Key Economic Area motivated the geographical
differentiation in the land system and methods of taxation, and accentuated the
natural tendency toward uneven development of the different regions. It also
affected the distribution of merchant capital and created varied conditions for its
development… [and] differences in the social characteristics and power of the
local ruling groups, differences in the degree of exploitation, and differences in
the conditions of the life and work of the peasants, the overwhelming majority of
the population (p. xiii).

Weigand (1985) used Chi’s ideas, as well as those of Palerm, Wolf and Sanders,
among others, to define the lake district of central-southern Jalisco as a ‘key economic
area’. As we saw in previous chapters, the Teuchitlán tradition first developed in this
area during the Formative and Classic periods. According to Weigand (1985), ‘the
highland lake system of Jalisco is preserved today as only fragments of the original
whole —several natural lakes… have been drained for their bottom lands’ (p. 54).
These lake basins in pre-Hispanic times ‘supported rich biotic communities of reeds,
birds, reptiles, amphibians, fish, and insects’ (p. 55). The broad lacustrine deposits
‘supplied amazingly rich soils for agriculture… These soils are heavily mixed with fine
volcanic ash, and hence retain both moisture and fertility for long periods… Good to
excellent soils for agriculture abound in these basins. Rainfall… averages around 1000
mm per year… Strategic resources were quantitatively and qualitatively superior in the
general area’ (p. 55). Weigand tells us that the first Spaniards to see the lake area were
greatly impressed with its natural resources. The region ‘sits astride… an east-west
alignment of high-quality obsidian flows, and a north-south alignment of copper
deposits… The concentration of rare resources in and very near the lake zone thus must
be [an] explanator in evaluating the region’s differential cultural development’ (p. 56).
The following copper minerals are found in this region: ‘Malachite, azurite,
chrysocolla, and native copper. Other metals and crystals are abundant: nugget gold,
native silver, galena, hematite, pyrite, optical-quality quartz, and opal’ (p. 56). Salt was
 578

widely available within the Atoyac Lake Basin, and almost the entire Sayula-Atoyac
Basin today is ringed with abandoned salt and saltpeter processing sites.
In the following pages I will discuss the production and exchange in the
Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530) of several natural resources in the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin, which were very important for the economy of this part of the ecumene
in the pre-Hispanic era. The role of the study area is analyzed from an archaeological
and ethnohistorical perspective in order to understand the importance of the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin in the economy and culture of the ancient Tarascan state. My
ethnoarchaeological study of the aquatic lifeway (fishing, hunting, gathering and
manufacture) and related subsistence activities, like salt-making, was aimed at
discovering the tool assemblage and cultural landscapes linked to these activities in the
distant past (Williams 2014a, 2014b, 2014c, 2015, 2018). The goal is to shed light on
little-known aspects of pre-Hispanic subsistence strategies in this part of Michoacán.
This is an essential undertaking because, according to Brigitte Boehm (2006):
‘Regrettably, there have been few historical and archaeological studies about the use of
natural resources for production and subsistence, and those that could account for the
impact of production activities in the environment of the [Lerma River] region are
almost non-existent. Consequently, there is too little information to paint a panorama
barely illustrative of the landscapes that existed before the arrival of the Spaniards’ (p.
202).
Strategic Resources
According to Weigand et al. (1977), ‘there were many types of rare resources for the
Mesoamericans: basic or important rare resources (those items necessary for primary
exploitation of the environment) such as obsidian and, later… copper; and luxury rare
resources (those items culturally identified as status markers) such as jade, turquoise,
gold, silver, feathers, etc. Rare resource provinces are those areas where these items…
are found naturally’ (p. 15). Weigand (1982b, 1993a, 1993b; Williams and Weigand
2004) defined the concept of ‘strategic resources’ as the most basic, imponderable
goods available to sociocultural entities. In the case of pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica these
goods included, among many others: obsidian, salt, metals (gold, silver, copper and tin,
etcetera), flint, kaolin and fertile land. In addition to water, numerous aquatic species
(fish, birds, reptiles, edible insects, algae, and plants like tule or rushes and carrizo or
reeds) can be included in the list of strategic resources. According to Jeffrey Parsons
(1996), the non-agricultural resources of the Basin of Mexico (i.e. lakes Texcoco,
 579

Xaltocan, and Zumpango), ‘particularly salt and edible insects (and perhaps algae), were
so energetically and economically important as to attract large numbers of people
engaged full-time in their extraction, processing, and distribution during the Middle and
Late Postclassic. Such attraction would necessarily have been significant in
sociopolitical terms’ (p. 442). Parsons argues that ‘the [lake] bed and swampy shore
land… should be considered in much the same way as agricultural land when we
attempt to evaluate prehispanic productive potential and carrying capacity in the Basin
of Mexico’ (p. 442). However, he ‘does not deny the primary importance of agriculture
in prehispanic domestic and political economy: rather, [he] suggests that the
nonagricultural resources… attained such a high level of importance after Early
Postclassic times that overall productivity, exchange, and consumption in the Basin of
Mexico… cannot be understood without considering their contribution’ (p. 442).
Apart from strategic resources, Weigand (1982b, 1993a) mentions scarce or
luxury goods, which were destined primarily to function as status or identity markers
within and between social systems, or as exchange goods —even as ‘currency’ in some
cases. The most obvious examples are shells, turquoise, jade, gold, silver, feathers, fine
textiles and elaborate ceramics, among others. Weigand (1982b, 1993a) points out that
in some cases there is an overlap between these two categories; that is, strategic and
luxury goods. In most cases, the former did not play a large role in the exploitation of
the physical environment; rather, their use was connected to designating social position,
marking social distance, and distinguishing the holders of political power from the rest
of the people. Although the procurement of items of both categories was used politically
to establish or reinforce social position, management of strategic goods was carried out
for the common good of the entire sociocultural entity. In contrast, the handling of
luxury goods served the interests of specific sectors of society, since their use was
restricted to the elite sector of those chiefdoms and states (Williams and Weigand
2004). The social nature of the exchange of the goods that pertained to each one of these
two categories will differ fundamentally in its cultural, social and material
manifestations. Therefore, it is necessary to analyze the specific social and economic
context in which the procurement and trade of goods took place. These contexts are not
equivalent at all levels of social contact, for the management of strategic resources
requires great social and technological investment in order to procure scarce goods of
the required quality and quantity, otherwise the social system will cease to function
efficiently (Weigand 1993a; Williams and Weigand 2004).
 580

The main structure (though not the only one) that held the Mesoamerican
ecumene together consisted of trade, exchange and tribute of scarce resources, whether
strategic or luxury in nature (Blanton et al. 1981; Smith and Berdan 2003; Hassig 1985;
Hirth 2016). In the context of macro-economic considerations, the exchange of rare
resources is expressed through two intertwined levels of interaction: ‘trade structure’
and ‘trade networks’. The former refers to the generalized, perdurable aspects, and
pertains to items (strategic or luxury) that are so indispensable –at a practical or status
level– that they must flow regardless of the political or economic configurations that
exist at a particular point in time. Obsidian and salt are examples of strategic resources
that had to keep moving from one place to another in order to insure the prosperity of
the polities within the ecumene; while turquoise is an example of a scarce or luxury
good that traveled from one end of the ecumene to the other to satisfy political elites’
need to display their status and fulfill their religious obligations (Weigand 1995a).
Whatever fate might befall one, or several, of the social players involved, these goods
simply had to keep moving because of their intrinsic value in the total social system. A
‘trade structure’, in contrast, consists of a series of cross-cutting commercial networks
that operate under specific conditions and are quite vulnerable to changes in the
composition of their participants (Williams and Weigand 2004:17).
Strategic Resources in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin. Before the Spanish conquest, the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin was under the political aegis of the Tarascan Empire, one of the most
imposing states in the whole of Mesoamerica, as we saw earlier. The great ecological
and geographic diversity in Michoacán, like that of the rest of Mesoamerica, meant that
exchange systems were imperative from early times, because few areas had all the
elements essential for subsistence. The greatest ecological contrasts in Mesoamerica
were those between the cold highlands and the hot, tropical lowlands (Sanders and Price
1968). Both trade and the imposition of tribute through war functioned in Mesoamerica
as mechanisms for exchanging people, information and goods between regions in the
context of dynamic, ever-shifting borders between different polities (Blanton et al.
1981). The most important mechanisms for the exchange of rare or strategic resources
were markets, long-distance trade networks and gift-giving, as well as the payment of
taxes to state authorities.
The ecological background of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin was discussed briefly in
Chapter III (see Williams 2014a, 2014b, 2014c for a detailed discussion), while the
general archaeological background of the area of the Bajío, which encompasses the
 581

Lake Cuitzeo Basin and its environs, was discussed in previous chapters, so in the
following paragraphs I discuss one of the most important sites so far excavated in the
basin –Huandacareo– which may have been the local outpost of the Tarascan Empire in
the Protohistoric period.
Macías Goytia (1990) excavated the site of Huandacareo in the 1980s (Figure
273). This site is located atop a natural rise to which were added retention walls and fills
to create a large, even surface. Monumental constructions are spread over an area of two
hectares, measuring 200 m on the east-west axis –parallel to the shore of Lake Cuitzeo–
and 100 m on the north-south axis. Several mounds were excavated, but at the first one
(called M-1) only the remains of the lower body and parts of the upper body were
available for reconstruction. The shape of the original construction is similar to the
traditional yácata, combining one round with one square shape. This building
apparently had a temple at the top, but the only evidence found in the excavation was a
floor of burnt mud. There were no traces of foundations, walls, post holes or any other
feature that would help reconstruct the shape of the temple.
A second mound (M-2) is larger than the one described above, and was found in
a better state of conservation (Figure 274). The body of M-2 consists of two
rectangular, slightly-sloped, stepped platforms. The first is a low banquette (45 cm
high), but the upper platform is 1.72 m high. On the top of this mound there is a
rectangular temple with a door that faces a stairway. The main façade of the temple was
built with finely-worked stone blocks, especially those that form the door frame.
Excavators found a 20-25-cm layer of rubble at the top of the building, with the remains
of a floor made of burned clay with traces of wattle-and-daub walls. The temple floor
consisted of a 4-cm thick layer of polished, highly compacted clay. One particularly
interesting discovery consisted of eight small cylindrical pits in the floor, which may
mark the post holes that supported the original structure made of wood and reeds with a
thatched roof (Figure 275). On the north side of the temple’s entrance there is a small
platform that may have been used as an outside altar. Macías Goytia excavated a third
mound (M-3), but it was in an even more deplorable state of conservation than the ones
just mentioned, having been practically destroyed by looters. Of the original building
only a stairway remains, together with a few carved rocks that covered the structure. In
this area of the site, called Platform 1, excavators found a large burial area with seven
tombs constructed with finely-worked stone blocks.
 582

In addition to architectural remains, excavators uncovered several pre-Hispanic

materials that represent aspects of the culture of the former inhabitants of Huandacareo:
pottery, shell, bone, stone, obsidian, metal and fibers. Most of these materials show
unquestionable diagnostic traits of Tarascan culture. The pottery assemblage, for
example, was called the ‘Huandacareo Complex’ by Macías Goytia. It includes tripod
bowls (Figure 276a), jars with spout and stirrup handle, clay pipes, presumably for
smoking tobacco (Figure 276b), and pipe fragments (Figure 276c). Also present in the
Huandacareo pottery assemblage are shoe-shaped pots decorated with negative paint,
bowls with al fresco decoration, miniature bowls, anthropomorphic figurines, and
spindle whorls, among other types of diagnostic Tarascan items. Macías Goytia also
found many worked potsherds with a round silhouette and two notches, which have
been identified as fishnet sinkers. Elite Tarascan ceramics like those from Huandacareo
have also been reported at the Copándaro site in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin (Figure 277).
Materials excavated at Huandacareo included numerous items made of shell, such as
round necklace beads, long pendants, perforated shells, anthropomorphic figurines, and
unmodified conch shells (Macías Goytia 1990). Many, if not all, of these items were
found in elite contexts, primarily burials. Items made of bone were also present, such as
small (18 cm long) needle-like objects of unknown use with elaborate carved designs at
one end (Figure 278). They were part of a rich offering in the main tomb (number 2) of
the Patio of Tombs, whose occupant must have enjoyed high social status.
Stone artifacts were also plentiful; for instance, querns and pestles, vessels made
of fine-grained green stone, and jadeite beads found inside some of the skulls,
suggesting they had been placed in the deceased’s mouth, perhaps during the burial
rites. Obsidian artifacts abounded because the Lake Cuitzeo area has some of the prime
deposits of this mineral in all of Mesoamerica. The following items were made of this
volcanic glass: tools like prismatic blades, scrapers and awls, and ornaments like tubular
ear flares and lip plugs, sometimes decorated with small incrustations of turquoise or
jade. Other items reported from this site are small plaques made of jade or turquoise that
were used to manufacture mosaics. Beads made of rock crystal and green stone were
commonly used to make necklaces and other decorations.
Copper and bronze tools and ornaments were found in many burials at
Huandacareo. Among the ornaments uncovered there we can mention necklaces with
copper beads and seashells, a brooch with two bird heads and two bells dangling from
each head, bells and pins with bells, a tubular ring with bells all around it, and tweezers
 583

with spirals (Figure 279). Meanwhile, functional tools included tweezers, awls, an adze
(Figure 280), and copper points of unknown use.
Huandacareo was an important town from the perspective not only of politics
and economy, but also ritual. This explains the high number of burials found there, as
excavators discovered a total of 90 interments, many in well-constructed tombs that
contained abundant grave goods (Figure 281), while others were direct burials (Figure
282) with no tomb or other construction to hold them. Seven areas of the settlement
were preferred sites for burials: (1) the outer limits of the ceremonial center, around the
retention walls of platforms and plazas; (2) Platform 2; (3) North Plaza; (4) East Plaza;
(5) the Patio of Tombs; (6) the Esplanade of Mound 3; and (7) the ‘area of sacrifices’ or
Pit 1. Some elite tombs were quite elaborate, consisting of a rectangular feature made of
stones, while others were similar to shaft tombs (Figure 283).

All the information just mentioned leaves no doubt that Huandacareo was a
major Tarascan elite center. Its strategic location in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin suggests
that its main function was as an administrative center of the Tarascan Empire, as
suggested by Williams (2009b). If indeed this was the case, we may assume that
Huandacareo collected tribute from a broad region and sent it to the empire’s capital,
Tzintzuntzan, to enrich the imperial coffers. Taxes consisted of many strategic resources
needed by the Tarascans: obsidian, salt, lime, and metals (copper, bronze, tin, gold,
silver), among many other goods that were plentiful in the Cuitzeo region or its
environs. The fact is that the Lake Cuitzeo Basin was one of the richest provinces of the
Tarascan Empire. What follows is a short discussion of the major strategic resources
exploited in that basin during the Protohistoric period.

Obsidian. This was an especially critical resource in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica, and

Michoacán had many sources of special quality (Darras 1994, 2008; Esparza and
Tenorio 2004; Healan 1997, 2004, 2005, 2011). Obsidian is a volcanic glass that was
used to make numerous cutting implements, such as knives, blades and adzes, etcetera.
It was also used to make many items that were indispensable for warfare and hunting,
such as arrowheads and lance points, aside from ornaments like lip plugs, ear flares and
many others (Figure 284). Obsidian from the sources around Ucareo and Zinapécuaro
(Figure 285) was much in demand by the Tarascan Empire because of its high quality
and the location of the sources near the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Pollard and Vogel 1994).
 584

Obsidian from Ucareo and Zinapécuaro was known throughout Mesoamerica, and has
been found in archaeological contexts widely-distributed in time and space. According
to Healan (2004), obsidian from those sources seems to have been an important
component of the lithic assemblages in the Basin of Mexico, the Oaxaca Valley and San
Lorenzo, Veracruz, where it appears in the form of prismatic blades from the Formative
period (ca. 900 BC). Later, obsidian from the Lake Cuitzeo Basin retained its status as
an outstanding commodity in central Mexico and Oaxaca, as well as in the Maya
Lowlands (though in smaller amounts). During the Late Classic (ca. AD 700-900) and
Epiclassic (ca. AD 900-1000) periods, the obsidian sources under discussion seem to
have been the primary providers for Xochicalco, Tula and many sites in the Basin of
Mexico, as well as the Oaxaca coast and northern Yucatán, including Isla Cerritos and
Chichén Itzá. During the Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900-1200), most of the obsidian
used in Tula also came from Lake Cuitzeo (Healan 1997, 2004).

Healan (2004) writes that most of the obsidian extracted at Ucareo and
Zinapécuaro (cores and blades) was not consumed locally, but was exported to
Tzintzuntzan (Pollard and Vogel 1994) and perhaps other sites in the Tarascan nuclear
area. It is interesting to note, however, that there is a lack of diagnostic Tarascan pottery
in or around these sites of obsidian extraction. This is surprising, especially considering
the ethnohistorical and archaeological data that indicate a high level of utilization,
exploitation and perhaps even political control of the area by the Tarascan state during
the Protohistoric period. This could indicate that the Tarascans were able to exploit
strategic resources by imposing tribute demands on local populations without having to
expend much energy on guarding or colonizing such regions.

Salt. Common salt (sodium chloride) is an indispensable element for human and animal
life all over the world (Multhaulf 1978). Because there was an uneven distribution of
salt deposits across the landscape, it became a strategic resource for social development
and a cause of conflict or a reason to establish alliances among peoples and states
(Andrews 1983). As we have seen, major salt deposits like the Lake Sayula Basin were
targets for Tarascan imperial expansion, and the same was true for the Lake Cuitzeo
Basin (Williams 1999, 2015, 2018). The eastern end of this basin holds extensive
natural deposits of high-quality salt (Figures 286 and 287), as well as thermal springs
with high mineral content. The town of Araró, in the eastern portion of the basin, has
 585

been famous for its salt since the 16th century. During the Colonial period, salt from
Araró was paid as tribute and was transported to several parts of Mexico to be used in
silver mines or for human consumption. A 16th-century source, the Anónimo de visitas
(or Manuscrito 2800), held in the National Library of Madrid, states that Araró was near
a lake with plentiful fish and salt deposits, and that the town of Zinapécuaro periodically
paid 500 hanegas of maize and 30 loads of salt as tribute (Escobar 1984:214).

In the mid-16th century, there were at least two major salt-producing areas in the
region under discussion –Araró and Chocándiro– while other towns (Acámbaro,
Zinapécuaro, Huango, Puruándiro), which were not as close to the lake, could easily
obtain salt because their subject towns were inside the basin (Escobar 1998). We know
that Araró and Zinapécuaro constituted a single unit for tax purposes before 1535 and
had the obligation to periodically deliver 30 tamemes 2 of salt and 30 fish to their
Spanish encomendero 3 (Escobar 1998). The Relaciones geográficas also refer to the
importance of Araró as a salt-producer in the 16th century, mentioning that the Spanish
bought the salt they needed there (Relación de la provincia de Acámbaro [1570]; Acuña
1987:88-89). The town of Chocándiro is also mentioned in the Relación de Cuiseo de la
Laguna, written in 1579 (Acuña 1987:88-89).

An archaeological survey conducted by the author (Williams 2005b) in the area

of Araró where the saltworks are located showed the existence of several major pre-
Hispanic sites. One of these is called Tierras Blancas, which consists of a huge artificial
platform with massive retention walls and many foundations visible from the surface, as
well as an abundance of archaeological materials like pottery and obsidian. This site is
located on top of a natural prominence bordered on one side by a gully. Tierras Blancas
occupies a strategic position for guarding access to salt-producing sites. Another ancient
site was found atop a hill that dominates the entire area. It is a large site with many
terraces where archaeological materials abound and mounds on the surface. Throughout
a large area where many abandoned saltworks are located, we found plentiful
archaeological evidence on the surface, primarily fragments of pottery and obsidian,
which suggest an abundant occupation of the area in ancient times (Figure 288). These
sites and others found during the survey of the area of saltworks represent a context for

2
Tameme or tlameme was an Indian porter who usually carried a burden of some 30-40 kg.
3
The encomendero was a person in charge of the encomienda, a Spanish colonial administrative entity consisting of a piece of land
and its local native population.
 586

salt production and trade during the pre-Hispanic era (the pottery found on the surface
pertains to the Late Formative, Classic and Postclassic periods).

Metals. The Tarascan Empire was able to conquer ever-larger territories in search of
strategic resources like copper (Figure 289a), silver (Figure 289b), tin (Figure 289c)
and gold, as well as objects made from these metals. These riches entered the royal
coffers as booty of wars of conquest or as tribute paid by towns subject to the Empire.
Pieces of gold jewelry functioned as insignias of social status and for public ritual, as
they were linked to those who held political power (Pollard 1987:750).

One of the areas with the greatest abundance of natural copper deposits runs
along the border between the modern-day states of Michoacán and Mexico, some 50 km
west of Lake Cuitzeo (Hosler 1994b: Figure 2.1). The distribution of silver deposits is
very similar (Hosler 1994b: Figure 2.2), while tin deposits also appear east of the basin,
in the northeastern corner of the state of Michoacán (Hosler 1994b: Figure 2.3).

Though finds of metal objects in archaeological contexts have been extremely

rare in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, we saw that excavations at Huandacareo unearthed a
large assemblage of metal objects (Franco and Macías 1994). Clearly, metal items were
very important for the Tarascan elite living in Huandacareo. According to Franco and
Macías, the collection of metal artifacts from Huandacareo consists of 132 items, of
which 115 were catalogued as ‘ornaments’ and 17 as tools or weapons. Most were
found in association with burials. According to Franco and Macías, because of the
context in which the metal objects were found, it is clear that all pieces had a ritual
meaning, or were sumptuary objects for the ruling elite. Most of those objects were
made of copper, only a few of bronze (pp. 162, 171). The inventory of metal artifacts
from Huandacareo includes: 16 tweezers, 30 rings, 58 bells, five pendants, one pin,
three points (apparently originally at the end of the petamuti’s ritual staff), four beads,
three awls, 13 needles, and one axe (p. 162). This assemblage speaks to the wealth and
power of the ruling Tarascan elite at Huandacareo.

Agriculture and Aquatic Resources. While we do not have detailed information about
pre-Hispanic agricultural techniques in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, we can assume that this
activity was developed to a high standard, judging by the numerous settlements reported
in the early Colonial period. In the book Americana thebaida written by Matías de
 587

Escobar in 1729 (cited in Macías Goytia 1997:444-445), we learn that Lake Cuitzeo
measured over 20 leagues in circumference, and the entire lake margins were occupied
by towns. Indeed, so many people lived in the area from Cuitzeo to Huandacareo, a
distance of over two leagues, that ‘in ancient times it was all one street… today, because
of the pestilences it appears to be vacant’ but the abundant ruins ‘tell us what it was in
antiquity… today the soil is tilled where before many buildings were admired’ (pp. 40-
41, 356). 4 Several of the lake basins of West Mexico near the Lake Cuitzeo Basin have
provided evidence of intensive agriculture similar to the chinampas or ‘raised fields’
known in other parts of Mesoamerica. In previous chapters we discussed the irrigation
features at Lake Magdalena, Jalisco, and the Lake Zacapu Basin (though the latter are
not unquestionably pre-Hispanic in origin). Archaeological evidence of intensive
agriculture has been found in Lake Pátzcuaro (Fisher et al. 1999) and Chapala (Weigand
and Weigand 1996:296), so it would not be surprising if Lake Cuitzeo also had systems
of intensive agriculture in pre-Hispanic times, like the canals and ridges found northeast
of Morelia in a zone that was marshy at the time of contact with the Spaniards, but was
drained (through canals) in the early Colonial period (Pollard, personal communication,
21 May 2019).

In addition to agriculture, other aspects of the aquatic lifeway, such as fishing,

hunting, gathering and manufacture, have received little attention from archaeologists in
the Lake Cuitzeo Basin. Thus, the research conducted by Parsons (2006; Parsons and
Morett 2005) at Lake Texcoco is relevant for our understanding of the role of aquatic
resources in Mesoamerica, including Lake Cuitzeo. According to Parsons (2006), in
many aquatic environments in Mesoamerica there were sophisticated systems of
exploitation of non-agricultural resources, like fish, reptiles, batrachians, birds,
mammals and edible plants. They all had high protein content, while plants such as tule
and carrizo reeds were invaluable for making a wide range of products, from baskets to
house roofs.

Today, fishing is still important for the daily livelihood of many residents of the
Lake Cuitzeo Basin, though catches have been declining steadily for years (Williams
2014b: Figure 3). According to Patricia Ávila (1999), ‘fishing is important for the
region, since in the Lake Cuitzeo region there are more than one thousand families who

4
Author’s translation; for the original Spanish version see Williams (2009b:295).
 588

depend on this activity’ (p. 184). The following are among the fish species caught in the
lake: charal (Chirostoma jordani, C. bartoni, C. compresum), carp (Cyprinus carpio),
and mojarra (Goodea atripinnis). Frogs are caught as well, and their contribution to the
local diet was important in the past. All these species are taken to consumers in Morelia,
Mexico City, Toluca and Guadalajara (p. 184). In the sixteenth century, the Relación de
Cuiseo de la Laguna (Acuña 1987) mentions the following species of fish:

This lake has a kind of fish, the size of the small finger of the hand, called
charao in their tongue [i.e. charal], a fish most appreciated among them. They
catch great quantities and [people] come from other provinces at a distance of 40
or 50 leagues to procure it, bringing cotton and cacao, a currency they use in this
land… They also bring many [native] fruits, and they prefer fish to pesos. This
fish is cured under the sun… it is measured by fanegas because it is so small.
There is another fish in this lake, the natives call curengari, which is as large as
sardines… and salted, they [are better] than those from Spain. The natives take
great amounts of these kinds of fish and take them to the markets, where people
come to buy from many parts, where they are highly appreciated (p. 85). 5

Pre-Hispanic fishers in Lake Cuitzeo and other lakes in Michoacán used worked
potsherds as fishnet sinkers. These artifacts are very abundant on the shores of Lake
Cuitzeo (Figure 290). Hunting and gathering were no less important than fishing in the
study area. Ávila (1999) mentions that Lake Cuitzeo is naturally rich in plants and
wildlife. In the lake and adjoining rivers and canals there are 13 species of fish
belonging to five families, both native and introduced to the area in recent times. There
are 24 native species of large-size birds in the region of the Morelia-Queréndaro Valley,
and 140 species of smaller birds are grouped into 36 families. Among the large-sized
birds, some come from far away, like the diver that travels from Canada every year and
has been used traditionally as food by the population of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin (p.
186). Historical records from as early as the 16th century mention the abundance of
aquatic birds in this study area (Acuña 1987). According to the Relaciones geográficas:
‘In the lake during the month of December there are such quantities of royal ducks,
cercetas [a kind of palmipede], egrets and alcatraces [pelicans], that they have no
number. The natives enter [the lake] at night in their canoes, with small lamps, to catch
5
Author’s translation. For the original Spanish version see Williams 2009b:296).
 589

the said birds which approach the light and the natives kill them with bow and arrow’
(p. 87). This source also mentions that ‘they kill so many birds [and] bring to the
markets such a quantity that it is frightful. What they kill most are ducks’ (p. 87). The
birds mentioned by the Relaciones include quails ‘like those from Spain’, crows,
thrushes, doves and hawks, while mammal species included hares, deer and wolves
(Relación de Cuiseo de la Laguna; Acuña 1987).

We have some information about the taxes that several communities in the basin
paid to the colonial authorities in the 16th century. As one would expect, aquatic
resources –primarily fish– figure prominently in these records (Figure 291). Other
important aquatic resources still used today are plants like tule (Figure 292) and carrizo
(Figure 293) that I have mentioned previously. A good example of the extant data for
the early Colonial period –which may reflect the pre-Hispanic situation– is the Tasación
del bachiller Juan Antonio de Ortega, written in 1528 and published by Benedict
Warren (1989). It states that the lord of Yuririapúndaro had to supply 220 loads of
victuals, ten loads of fish and six loads of salt to his master ‘in the mines’ every twenty
days. The lord of Chocándiro, meanwhile, had to deliver 100 loads of supplies to the
mines, including six of chili peppers, six of salt and two of fish (pp. 417-418). The
abundance and variety of resources of many different kinds in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin is
attested to by an early account called the Libro de las tasaciones de pueblos de la Nueva
España, siglo XVI, published by Francisco González de Cossío (1952). Here we read
that:

Araró and Zinapécuaro in the province of Michoacán are taxed with making the
sementeras [tilled land] of maize, chili and beans… And of the said
sementeras… they shall give every 20 days 100 tamemes of half an hanega, and
forty loads of beans and twenty loads of chili and 200 bowls and 200 pairs of
sandals and thirty tamemes of salt and thirty of fish. And all the [things] stated
above shall be taken by the Indians to the mines of La Trinidad [Sultepec,
Estado de México]… In addition to the above, every day they shall provide for
their own sustenance and that of their calpixque [overseer] two chickens and 12
quails, two rabbits, and during fish days the necessary fish, and 12 eggs and
 590

tamales for their servants, grass and firewood, and every 50 days 50 shirts and
50 [wild] cat skins (p. 49). 6

The extant information about pre-Hispanic subsistence in other lake basins in

West Mexico is very useful as a source of analogy to complement the data on Lake
Cuitzeo. At Lake Pátzcuaro, for instance, Pollard (1993) reports that the range of food
used by the Tarascans ‘included more than 14 genera of domesticated plants, four
genera of local fish, various local waterfowl, small mammals, deer, domestic turkey,
several wild plants, condiments (cacao, honey)’ (p. 109). Among the wild plants
gathered in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin we can mention amaranth (Chenopodium spp.)
and berries, while the animals that were hunted for food included waterfowl, rabbits,
hares, small mammals, rodents and peccaries. The annual catch of fish was significant at
Lake Pátzcuaro; indeed, Gorenstein and Pollard (1983) calculated it at 4,732,800 kg
(pp. 170-171), while the total productivity of meat (deer, rabbit, duck, turkey) was
around 328,000, 412,000 or 488,412 kg per year (pp. 177-179).

Before the Spanish conquest, the bird population in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin
numbered at least 8,000, mainly ducks, which could have produced 16,000 kg of meat
per year (p. 178). Hunting waterfowl was still widely-practiced here until about 60 years
ago, primarily around the end of October, when a communal hunt called kuirisi atakua
was celebrated in many lakeshore towns (see discussion in Williams 2014b:95; also
Argueta 2008:102-104). Parsons (1996) has emphasized the unparalleled role played by
aquatic resources in many Mesoamerican societies:

I have come to believe that certain non-agricultural resources may… have to be

factored, much more systematically than they have been, into our thinking about
the linkages between production, demography, and organizational complexity in
Mesoamerica. Part of my concern with non-agricultural resources relates to the
absence in indigenous Mesoamerica of a domestic grazing animal: this meant that
Mesoamerica was the only one of the world’s ancient primary civilizations in
which herding could not be developed in order to extend productive landscapes
into regions that were agriculturally marginal. We might thus expect to see a
whole series of unusually well developed efforts to exploit non-agricultural
resources in Mesoamerica (p. 439).
6
Author’s translation; for original Spanish version see Williams (2009b:297).
 591

Discussion

In order to fully appreciate the role of Huandacareo and the rest of the Lake Cuitzeo
Basin in the cultural development of Michoacán during pre-Hispanic times, as well as in
the political economy of the Tarascan Empire, particularly in the Protohistoric period,
we have to understand that, according to Algaze (1993a), many pristine civilizations
expanded by placing core outposts at key junctions of their surrounding periphery. The
use of outposts by different civilizations is explained by three interconnected factors
shared by many early states: (1) the expanding economies of increasingly-urbanized
polities required regular and direct access to nonlocal resources; (2) for their own
political ends, elites in less‐advanced surrounding communities would have been
willing to grant such access to core or ‘imperial’ societies; and (3) transportation
constraints common to all pre-modern societies meant that the most efficient way to
channel regular exchanges (i.e., tribute) between distant geographic areas and
differentially-structured societies was by means of strategically-positioned core outposts
that served as collection points for tribute levied on a wide region, and as distribution
nodes for prestige goods manufactured in the core area. We have seen that during the
Protohistoric period the Lake Cuitzeo Basin was firmly under the domination of the
Tarascan Empire, with Huandacareo as the most likely candidate for the empire’s
outpost in this strategic region. Pollard (2003a) has described the way in which the
Tarascans organized the political and territorial expansion of their empire: ‘The
Tarascan state… is renowned for its high degree of political centralization and relatively
unchallenged control of its territory… These characteristics can be related to the
emergence by the Late Postclassic… of a social system with a fully Tarascan identity,
produced by the conscious subordination and replacement of local ethnic-linguistic
status as the basis for social or political power’ (p. 80). Despite an apparent ‘ethnic
heterogeneity in central Michoacán in the Middle Postclasssic period… by the sixteenth
century the Tarascan realm was self-identifying, and being identified by others as solely
Tarascan… Administrative control was accomplished by the creation of a series of
centers, each with a number of dependent communities’ (p. 82) (Figure 294).
According to Pollard, ‘the administrative centers of these units reported directly to the
palace in Tzintzuntzan. They in turn contained dependent villages and dispersed
hamlets… Thus the administrative hierarchy contained up to five levels’ (pp.80-82).
 592

The expansion of the Tarascan Empire to different areas within West Mexico
sought to secure supplies and control the trade of strategic resources like cacao, animal
skins, seashells, tropical bird feathers, turquoise, peyote, salt, rock crystal, serpentine,
amber, pyrite, jadeite, gold, silver, copal, green and red obsidian, and slaves (Pollard
2003b, 1993:119). As discussed earlier, the strategic goods that the Tarascans wanted to
extract from the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and its environs were primarily obsidian, salt, lime
and metals like copper, silver and tin. Another example of imperial expansion from the
Tarascan heartland to other regions of West Mexico involved the Sayula Basin which,
as discussed earlier, had one of the most abundant deposits of high-quality salt in
Mesoamerica, in addition to many other resources, including copper (Valdez et al.
1996a).

Turquoise and other green stones were at the top of the list of coveted sumptuary
goods reserved for the Mesoamerican elites. These stones had to be brought from the
northern regions of the ecumene (or beyond), so trade in this commodity was a complex
enterprise. Weigand (1995a) has suggested that mining activities like exploration,
exploitation and the procurement of rare resources were among the most critical aspects
in the formation of a trade structure in ancient Mesoamerica. A major find of turquoise
items at the Tres Cerritos site in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin (Macías Goytia 1998) should
be interpreted as evidence of complex systems of trade and transportation that brought
these and other elite goods from the northern confines of the ecumene after traversing
thousands of kilometers to reach the Tarascan region. According to Weigand et al.
(1977), ‘as civilizations expand, the demand for rare resources becomes more
systematized. Systematic demands are concomitant with systematic acquisition
techniques. Mesoamerica… certainly had such demands, and sections of the [ecumene]
must have become heavy consumers of exotic produce’ (p. 15). The areas where rare
resources were found ‘eventually became so heavily exploited by Mesoamericans that
province formation and/or colonization was finally reached in some cases’ (p. 15). The
basic model proposed by Weigand et al. is of a trade system ‘in which the rare resource
provinces play an active role side by side with the more complex centers of civilization
and consumption’ (p. 23). In these authors’ view, many cultures in rare resource areas
‘have an economic/political interrelationship with zones that trade for their produce.
Since economics and politics are seldom separable, there is an implicit direction
required for such relationships —cultural influences from centers of consumption into
 593

rare resource zones and an ecological network of systematized demand, exploitation,

trade, manufacture, distribution, and increased demand’ (p. 23).

The ‘global economy’ of the Mesoamerican ecumene was based primarily on the
exchange of goods that were deemed precious by the general population. The flow of
luxury goods was charged with political and economic implications. However, this flow
cannot be interpreted solely in terms of a desire to consume exotic goods. Rather,
luxury goods frequently played an important role in the accumulation and sustaining of
power by elites through the controlled distribution of status symbols (Blanton and
Feinman 1984:676). In the case of the Tarascan Empire (Pollard 2003a), goods and
services circulated through markets, the tributary network, long-distance merchants, and
the official exchange of gifts between elites. These goods included agricultural fields,
forests and mines, among others (pp. 130-131).

The elite of the Tarascan capital (and other towns) depended for its survival on
the products paid as tribute by the subject towns in different regions of the empire. As
stated above, among the most crucial goods were those that could not be procured in the
Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, which were utilized by most Tarascan households during the
Protohistoric period (Pollard 1993:113). They were likewise used by the elite to signal
its privileged social position. The abundant deposits of obsidian, salt and metals in the
Lake Cuitzeo Basin or its environs made this region a key economic area for the
Tarascan Empire (Williams 2009a, 2009b, 2014a, 2014b, 2015, 2018).

Another example from Imperial China in the writings of Ch’ao-Ting Chi (2019)
is illuminating for our discussion of trade and empires in the Mesoamerican ecumene.
In his definition of key economic areas, Chi stated that ‘the larger unit of political
administration, equivalent to the modern “province”, has existed since the Han dynasty
(206 BC to AD 221)… the provincial unit, as such, has continued almost unchanged
from very early times. These provincial groupings… were… combined into
geographical regions, according to major topographical divisions, and through
economic factors’ (p. 4). The growth of trade in China, not unlike Mesoamerica, ‘never
reached a level which would enable it to overcome the localism and narrow
exclusiveness of an agricultural economy’. Chinese regional groupings ‘were highly
self-sustaining and independent of each other’ (p. 4). According to Chi, ‘the unity of
centralization of state power in China could only mean the control of an economic area
 594

where agricultural productivity and facilities of transport would make possible the
supply of a grain tribute so predominantly superior to that of other areas that any group
which controlled this area had the key to the conquest and unity of all China. It is areas
of this kind which must be designated as the Key Economic Areas’ (p. 5).

Returning to Mesoamerica, we find that Gasco and Berdan (2003) refer to the
existence of ‘international trade centers’ in several parts of the ecumene, writing that
‘the primary focal points for the extensive long-distance exchange… were the numerous
international trade centers’. They were ‘highly commercialized centers serving
primarily economic purposes’ (p. 109). Huandacareo and its immediate hinterland in the
Lake Cuitzeo Basin would probably form a good example of this socioeconomic
formation in Protohistoric Michoacán.

To conclude this section, I would stress that over several centuries the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin played an outstanding role in cultural and economic development, not
just for the peoples living in its immediate area, but also those in several regions in the
Mesoamerican ecumene, through the production and exchange of a considerable
number and variety of strategic goods. The list of key commodities includes not just
mineral resources, but also aquatic ones (flora and fauna). This privileged area became
the target of Tarascan expansion until it joined the roster of provinces that paid tribute
to the cazonci. No less important was the role of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin as a place
where many different cultures and ethnic groups came into contact. According to
Healan and Hernández (1999), ‘we know that during the Protohistoric period…
northwest Michoacán and southeastern Guanajuato were characterized by a very high
cultural diversity with the presence of Matlatzinca, Mazahua, Otomí, Pame, Guamaré,
and other groups; this may be an indication of the importance of this region as a route of
communication’ (p. 133). This region also functioned as a natural corridor through
which many sumptuary goods, like turquoise, circulated. In fact, during the Postclassic
period one of the major trade routes for this prized green stone ran very near the basin,
perhaps even crossing it (Weigand 1995a: Figure 2).

In this section, I have presented a general outline of the role played by one
specific region of ancient Michoacán in the cultural and economic development of the
Tarascan Empire, though much fieldwork and ethnohistorical study remains to be done
before we can know the ancient history of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin in detail. In the
 595

following section, I address the subject of trade, tribute and the transportation of
strategic goods within the Tarascan Empire. This will shed light on, and broaden, the
discussion about the procurement and utilization of many indispensable necessities
throughout the Tarascan kingdom and other regions of the ecumene.

Trade, Tribute and Transportation within the Tarascan Empire

In order to understand the patterns of trade, tribute and transportation of rare goods and
strategic resources within the Tarascan Empire, we must recall that the Lake Pátzcuaro
Basin, the core area of the empire (Pollard 1993), lacked natural sources of ‘salt,
obsidian, chert, and lime, all products used by most households in the Protohistoric
period; it also lacked a wide range of goods utilized by the elite… The core of the
Tarascan state in 1520 was not a viable economic unit. It existed, even thrived, only by
the exchange of goods and services in regional and supra-regional patterns’ (p. 113).
This fact transformed the scarce goods analyzed below into strategic resources that the
state had to procure outside its immediate area, and then transport to the most heavily-
populated zones. Also, it was necessary to regulate consumption and ensure steady and
uninterrupted supplies.
In this section, therefore, we discuss three of the most important mechanisms for
the exchange of several scarce or strategic resources: markets, long-distance trade, and
the tribute system. West Mexico was an integral part of Mesoamerica, so the study of
the production and exchange of scarce goods and strategic resources there must be
framed within the cultural and historical context of this ancient ecumene (Williams
1994, 2004b). The great ecological and geographic diversity found in Mesoamerica
made trade and exchange between regions an essential part of life from very early times,
since virtually no single area had, or could produce, all the elements necessary for
subsistence. The most drastic contrast was between the ecological conditions in the cold
highlands and the warm lowlands and coastal areas (Sanders and Price 1968). Both
trade and the extraction of tribute through military means functioned from early times in
Mesoamerica as mechanisms for the exchange of people, information and cultural goods
between regions, in a context of ill-defined borders that separated multiple social
systems (Blanton et al. 1981:60).
Markets. Many 16th-century historical sources seem to suggest the existence of specific
market days and other means of regulating trade in Tarascan communities of the
Protohistoric period, though marketplaces per se are rarely mentioned. It is highly-likely
 596

that there was a market system that integrated most of the communities in the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin, including the city of Tzintzuntzan. According to the Relación de
Michoacán, there was a palace official who was entrusted with overseeing all markets,
and was responsible for acquiring sumptuary goods for the king, such as fine feathers
and gold (Beltrán 1982:163). The economic networks in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin were
defined by the presence of markets, like two that are mentioned in the Relación de
Michoacán: Tzintzuntzan and Pareo. The Relación also mentions markets in Uruapan,
Naranjan and Asajo. The first two were quite distant from the basin, so they affected the
lake area’s trade networks only peripherally. Asajo, in contrast, was located on the
northwest margin of the basin and incorporated several lakeside settlements in its orbit
of influence (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983:38-40).
The most important source of information on Tarascan economic networks in the
Protohistoric period is the aforementioned Relación de Michoacán (written around
1540; see Alcalá 2008). Although this book contains relatively few references to
markets, when consulted in conjunction with the Relaciones geográficas of 1579-1581
(see Acuña 1987) it becomes possible to identify and locate the marketplaces mentioned
above. In fact, the Relación includes an illustration of the Asajo market that reminds us
of many modern regional markets (see Figure 265 above). Information as to the size of
Tarascan markets is almost entirely lacking, as is data on the role of the government in
their functioning and control. We can assume, however, that the market in Tzintzuntzan
must have contained both manufactured and elite goods linked to the numerous artisans
who lived in that capital city (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983:98). It has been argued that
the scarce mention of markets in the ethnohistorical literature and the scanty
archaeological evidence of marketplaces mean that these were not as important for the
economic structure of Tzintzuntzan as they were in contemporaneous centers in the
Central Highlands (Pollard 1980:682). But marketplaces are notoriously difficult to
identify in Mesoamerican archaeological sites because exchange relationships are
generally invisible in the archaeological record (Hirth 2009b).
It is quite likely, however, that many goods and services did indeed flow through
markets in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. The following is a list of some of the trade goods
found in Tarascan markets, according to historical sources: maize, beans, chili peppers,
amaranth, regional fruits, ducks, feathers from local birds, fish, cotton, cloth, clothing,
slaves, prepared food, and domestic services. Several goods that were used by the
general population but were not available locally must also have been imported through
 597

regional market networks. These included black and red obsidian, flint, jasper, agate,
opal, lime and salt, all of which have been identified as market imports because they do
not appear in tribute lists (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983:100-101). According to Hassig
(1985), regional markets played a very important role in the Mesoamerican economy, as
there one could find merchandise both exotic and commonplace. Those markets had a
more significant position in the economic hierarchy than local or ordinary ones located
in the headtowns, and some achieved such a prominent role that they became famous
for selling one product in particular (p. 110).
A recent study of Mesoamerican markets by Feinman and Garraty (2010) may
provide perspectives that will allow us to better understand trade and exchange among
the Tarascan people. In the case of the Aztecs, we know that the Tlatelolco market was
always full of people who frequented it because of the wide range of products, both
local and exotic in origin, available there. Tlatelolco was at the apex of a hierarchical
market network where several currencies circulated, including copper axes, fine textiles,
and cacao beans. The issue of commercial diversity in the context of the Mesoamerican
ecumene has been explored by Hirth (2013b), who tells us that ‘by the time of the
Spanish conquest, most areas of Mesoamerica were linked by a vibrant system of
marketplaces that operated largely through the initiative of individual households with
minimal elite involvement’ (p. 85). Hirth’s archaeological and ethnohistorical research
in Central Mexico and other cultural areas has shown that ‘the economy was based on a
rich array of small-scale producer-vendors, artisans, and retail vendors operating at the
household level… Mesoamerica developed a complex market system and a significant
degree of interregional exchange’ (Hirth 2013b:85).
The marketplace was without doubt the institution that enabled the Aztec
economy to grow to the size and complexity described by Hirth (2016). In his
discussion of the Aztec marketplace, Hirth points out that ‘Mesoamerican marketplaces
were large by European standards, and probably were both more numerous and held
more regularly. The Tlatelolco marketplace (Figure 295) had 60,000 daily attendees,
and was the largest market that the Spanish invaders had ever seen’ (p. 289). According
to Hirth, ‘the reason that pre-Hispanic markets were so large is that retail shops were
very rare or nonexistent in Mesoamerica. Apart from its great size, the Tlatelolco
market impressed the Spaniards because of its internal organization; it was highly
centralized and this fact allowed for more efficient supervision’ (p. 289). Thanks to the
extant historical records, we know that the Aztecs ‘had food, utilitarian goods, and
 598

wealth goods in separate sectors within the same marketplace… All of the goods
available in Aztec society would have been sold in the Tlatelolco marketplace except
perhaps for some of the specialty items that carried the emperor’s emblematic design’
(p. 290). We know of as many as 29 ‘major market centers… from the Late Postclassic
Basin of Mexico… they were spaced an average 16 km from their closest neighboring
marketplace… on average this would place towns distributed across the landscape
within 8 km from the nearest provisioning marketplace… this represents a round trip
distance that could easily be traversed on foot in a single day’ (p. 290).
In his discussion of economic distribution, Hassig (1985) analyzed ‘the way
markets interacted to facilitate the flow of goods into and out of major centers. To a
large extent Tenochtitlan’s economic life was structured by formalized exchange, both
marketing and long-distance trade’ (p. 67). Before Tenochtitlan became a dominant
political center, the ‘patterns of exchange within the Valley of Mexico were affected by
ethnic and political divisions’ (p. 71). As suggested by Hassig’s ethnohistorical
research, ‘many goods not produced locally were fed into the Valley and exchanged
within it —notably cotton, obsidian, and cacao. Other goods were produced or
processed for regional consumption within the valley. Specialization was the result of
unequal availability of certain goods, such as salt’ (Figure 296), which was extracted
from the lakes in the Basin of Mexico, and lime from the northern area of the valley (p.
73). In Hassig’s opinion, ‘the basic pattern of commodity production and distribution…
appears to have been fairly localized… This is consistent with a marketing pattern in
which the lowest-level, or primary, markets were periodic within a five-day cycle and
focused on the secondary markets of their respective cabeceras’ (p. 73). Although there
was some level of regional exchange, ‘it was not pervasive in the economy and seems to
have resulted primarily from resource specialization. In short, the pre-Aztec marketing
patterns appear to have been solar systems (Figure 297) in which markets were oriented
around single centers, creating simple two-level hierarchies’ (p. 73). Markets were
supplied with products by many local farmers, fishers and artisans; in fact, some
artisans worked inside the marketplace, for instance obsidian knappers (Hirth 2009b),
but many of the goods offered in the marketplace came from distant regions thanks to
the efficient methods of transportation mentioned in the next section.
Blanton (2013) has said that ‘it is time to rethink how we understand markets in
relation to sociocultural evolution… To counter… the limitations inherent in traditional
economic theory that views market transactions from the perspective of highly rational
 599

and individualized economic actors, thus “disembedding” market behavior from social
ties and institutions’ (p. 24). Blanton sees ‘the ideal market participant’ as ‘a cooperator
whose actions, shaped by institutions and organizational structures, engender greater
levels of trust necessary for effective market function’ (p. 23). Hirth and Pillsbury
(2013a), meanwhile, have shed new light on the issue of merchants, markets and
exchange in Mesoamerica. They tell us that ‘commercial activity can be found in the
actions of the full- and part-time merchants who moved goods to earn their livelihoods’,
while ‘household-to-household exchange networks organized around barter and gift-
giving [were] designed to even out resource irregularities and to reinforce social
relationships’ (p. 4). These authors hold that in the marketplace ‘all segments of society
came together to trade and convert surpluses into alternative goods’. In this unique
place, ‘economic motives blended with social interactions, and all economic institutions
–from the household to the palace–converged’ (p. 4).
Hirth and Pillsbury further suggest the existence of a ‘dual economic structure’
in ancient Mesoamerica that included both domestic and institutional sectors. On the
one hand, ‘the domestic economy is centered on the household and comprises the array
of activities that households engage in to provision themselves with the resources
needed for demographic and social reproduction… the domestic economy often
emphasizes self-sufficiency as a general strategy over market dependency’ (p. 4). The
institutional economy, on the other hand, ‘refers to the production or mobilization of the
resources needed to cover the costs of maintaining these organizations and their social
services’ and usually ‘includes the political economy and all other social, religious, and
economic organizations that operate above the level of the household’ (pp. 4-5).
We have seen that in Mesoamerican markets, including those in Michoacán,
barter was the usual form of commercial interaction, but we also have some information
that can help us understand the use of currencies among the peoples of central Mexico
(and elsewhere) at the time of the arrival of the Spaniards. In his discussion of the Aztec
pochtecayotl, or ‘art of trading’, Ángel M. Garibay (1995) tells us that Ahuitzotl, the
Aztec king, gave the pochteca a certain number of small mantles, so they could trade
with them (p. 175). It is clear to Garibay that these mantles had the status of currency
for buying things, not just for barter. They were items with a symbolic value, not unlike
the bills or bank notes we use today, whose value is not derived from their intrinsic
worth, but for what they represent (p. 176). It is well-known that for many years after
the Conquest cacao beans were used as a form of currency, though it is difficult to
 600

determine the equivalence between cacao and the coins used by the Spaniards in the
early Colonial period. Garibay notes, for instance, that ‘one hundred cacao beans [was]
the price of a canoe’ (p. 178). Berdan (2003), meanwhile, argues that the use of
currency expanded during the Postclassic, since there was a growing need to facilitate
the increasing volumes of exchange. Numerous objects became standardized means of
exchange (an important function of money), such as the oft-cited cacao beans and cotton
mantles, as well as copper and bronze axes, copper bells, bird-feather shafts filled with
gold dust, salt, red shells, and precious stones, usually green in color (p. 94).
Long-Distance Trade. The exchange of goods transported over long distances was
another key economic activity for Mesoamerican states. Ethnohistorical sources on the
Aztecs allow us to see how this commercial activity contributed to the prosperity of
Tenochtitlan during the Late Postclassic period. In that city’s marketplace one could
find exotic goods brought from all over Mesoamerica mainly by long-distance Aztec
traders known as pochteca, who operated both inside Aztec territories and beyond their
borders (Figure 298). This activity was closely-linked to imperialism, and sumptuary
goods certainly played a fundamental sociopolitical role in that society (Smith 1990).
The exchange of sumptuary goods among Postclassic elites had an integrating function,
as it fostered interregional communication and social and political stratification (pp.
153-163). The pochteca often traveled beyond the confines of the Aztec empire (Hassig
1988) and were sometimes used as spies by the state, so they had to disguise their
identity: ‘Much of the merchant’s intelligence gathering was incidental to their primary
trading functions, but they were sometimes given intelligence duties to perform for the
state. On at least some occasions… the merchants disguised themselves as natives of
other areas… because if they had been discovered, they would have been killed’ (pp.
49-50). Those disguised merchants received the name naualoztomeca (Figure 299),
according to Sahagún (1938, cited in Hirth 2016). Hirth tells us that this name was
acquired through the pochteca’s ‘exploits in the highland area of Zinacantan, Chiapas…
where they were forbidden to trade by the local population. Zinacantan was an
important trade center where highland merchants obtained goods from the Maya area…
including salt, feathers, animal skins, and amber’ (p. 210). According to Nichols (2013),
‘the pochteca could amass considerable wealth. They were accorded certain privileges,
but unlike Aztec nobles who routinely displayed their wealth [the] pochteca were
prohibited from doing so in public’. These rich merchants ‘were expected to appear
humble except on particular public occasions… The pochteca were a close-knit group…
 601

ranking within the guild distinguished between principal merchants, vanguard

merchants, disguised merchants, spying merchants, slave dealers, and slave bathers’
(pp. 55-56).
The archaeological information on Aztec trade with several areas of
Mesoamerica discussed by Smith (1990) suggests the existence of merchants and
market systems that functioned as mechanisms for dispersing luxury Aztec pottery and
many other commodities. Those trade networks reached far-and-wide, including
territories under the control of enemies, or peoples never conquered by the Aztec Triple
Alliance. 7 These archaeological finds point towards a commercial activity that was
independent of state control (p. 165).
The pochteca were responsible for transporting goods from the far ends of the
Aztec empire, including a whole range of high-status items, as well as scarce and
strategic goods, among which we know of the following: richly-decorated capes and
skirts, tropical bird feathers, gold objects, necklaces, ear flares, obsidian blades and
knives, seashells, coral, needles (made of copper, shell or bone), animal skins, herbs and
dyes, slaves and, finally, fine jewelry made of jade, jadeite and turquoise (Smith
1998:123). According to the Codex Mendoza, every year a total of 10 masks and five
objects made of turquoise arrived at the Aztec capital, paid as tribute by several
provinces of the empire (Smith 1998: Table 7.2; see also Ross 1984:53, 56, 58, 59, 61
on turquoise beads). Citing Sahagún (1961), Hirth (2016) has stated that these
specialized long-distance merchants were ‘identified as an oztomecatl or “vanguard
merchant”’ (p. 188). According to Hirth, three features mark the unique activities of all
vanguard merchants: (1) they were commercial specialists who engaged in trade on a
full-time basis, the bulk of whose income came from their individual entrepreneurial
activities; (2) the risks of long-distance trade required collaboration among several
merchants, and this resulted in most vanguard merchants residing in internally-stratified
corporate communities that provided assistance to all their members; and (3) when the
pochteca engaged in long-distance trade, they were involved in procuring wealth goods
such as jade, turquoise, feathers and elaborate textiles, items that were regarded as
social markers of elite status and constituted a tremendous source of wealth for the
merchants engaged in their trade (p. 189).
Carballo (2013) tells us that in ancient Teotihuacan, long before the Aztecs,
many trade items –obsidian, lime, cotton– were traded to and from far-away places,
7
A political union formed around 1428 by three Aztec city-states: Tenochtitlan, Texcoco and Tlacopan.
 602

while pottery ‘was not conducive to long-distance trade since it was bulky and fragile
and since most people could find suitable potting clay close to home’ (p. 128). The
ceramic type known as Thin Orange, ‘produced in southern Puebla, is one of the best
studied and most widely distributed ceramic types from Mesoamerica… the ware
became standardized due to the volume of demand from Teotihuacan and its economic
networks’. Pots pertaining to this type ‘were reserved for ritual consumption events,
passed along as heirlooms, and taken out of circulation by mortuary rites and limited
accidental breakage’. In many Central-Mexican sites, ‘locals engaged in trade relations
with wider networks involving southern Puebla and Teotihuacan. Thin Orange wares
are found as far away as Honduras’. This custom would demonstrate ‘that their social
value as an index of contacts with Central Mexico –and likely Teotihuacan in
particular– outweighed the challenges inherent in moving vessels long distances’ (p.
128). The idea that Thin Orange vessels, especially small ones, were traded far-and-
wide, is bolstered by a collection of stacked annular-based Thin Orange bowls shown
by Carballo (2013: Figure 5.13), who suggests that this way of arranging the pots
facilitated transport (pp. 129-130).
On the topic of bulk transportation of ceramic goods, Hirshman and Stawski
(2013) discuss how pots were carried by porters from one end of the Tarascan area to
the other during the Protohistoric period. They calculate that if a ‘small’ ceramic bowl
weighed 300 grams, then a 23-kg burden would contain over 70 vessels, while a 90 kg
load would contain some 300. Conversely, if a ‘larger’ ceramic bowl weighed 600
grams, a 23-kg load could contain 38 such vessels, while a 90-kg load might contain
well over 100. ‘Assuming the minimal weight of 23 kg carried by professional porters,
the numbers illustrate that a worthwhile load of finished ceramic vessels could be easily
carried to market, whether by a professional porter, the potter, or one of their relatives’
(p. 12). Because of the oft-cited lack of beasts of burden, vehicles and paved roads,
water transport became the most efficient means of travel and cargo transportation in
the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. In the 16th century, two types of canoes plied the waters of
this and other lakes, ‘small canoes for exploiting the marsh and aquatic resources
available to individual communities, and large transport canoes’ (p. 16) (Figure 300).
According to Hirshman and Stawski, ‘canoe traffic would increase the transportation
options available to potters, though they may have had to weigh a fare against their
potential market profit, or sold their pots to a lake-traveling middleman. In addition,
Tarascan[s]… may have used canoes to transport finished pots’ and different materials
 603

used as temper in pottery, as well as firewood, among many raw materials indispensable
for the potter’s craft (p. 16). In addition to canoe travel, transportation to market by foot
was possible for household producers in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin during the 16th
century. Almost all communities in the basin could reach a market in four hours;
therefore, most households could carry finished pottery vessels and other goods to-and-
from a central marketplace (p. 17).
Hirshman and Stawski show just how efficient transportation was in the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin, because of its small size and the capacity of potting households to
control the transportation of their own wares to market: ‘One porter –most likely the
potter, a member of the potting household, or another relative– could certainly carry to
market and sell in one day a load of ceramics that would represent an identifiable
portion of a household’s production’ (p. 19). These authors further argue (2013) that
their analysis of transportation within the Tarascan core area suggests that the Tarascan
state did not attempt to exert control over, or interfere with, ceramic production and
transportation. In their view, this gives us an alternate and far more nuanced view of the
state’s political economy, decision-making and state agency.
Among the Tarascans, long-distance merchants sponsored by the state
constituted an institutional mechanism through which goods flowed towards the
imperial capital. The royal house employed these merchants to procure scarce goods,
some of which could only be found in the remote reaches of the empire, or even beyond
its territorial boundaries (Pollard 1993:119). Among the sumptuary goods carried by
such Tarascan merchants we can mention cacao, animal skins, seashells, tropical bird
feathers, turquoise, peyote, rock crystal, serpentine, amber, pyrite, jadeite, gold, silver,
copal, green and red obsidian, and slaves (Pollard 2003a, 1993:119). The more distant
the sources of a given product, the fewer its distribution channels and, in all likelihood,
the more restricted its use. The function of these sumptuary imports was, at least to
some extent, to mark and maintain status differences between members of the elite and
the rest of society (Pollard 2003a). Those long-distance traders often travelled to the
limits of Tarascan territory, including Zacatula on the Pacific coast and Taximaroa on
the border with the Aztecs, their mortal enemies, but there is no evidence that they
crossed those borders while pursuing their commercial enterprises (Pollard 2000:171). It
is well-known that trade networks and routes were quite extensive throughout
Mesoamerica during the Postclassic period. The pochteca, for instance, routinely
journeyed from Central Mexico to Guatemala in the south and Chaco Canyon (New
 604

Mexico) 8 in the north (Hassig 1985:116), so it should come as no surprise that Tarascan
traders also traversed extensive territories, as discussed below (see also Williams and
Weigand 2004; Williams 2004b).
However, not all long-distance trade was sanctioned by the state. Indeed, there
was a high level of exchange of products between hamlets inhabited by fishers near the
coast and highland towns, particularly in Tierra Caliente (i.e., the hot lands of the
Tepalcatepec River Basin). Although it is not clear just how or where this exchange
took place, historical sources do not mention any kind of state intervention in this
informal trade (Beltrán 1982:165).
The Lienzo de Jucutacato is an especially important source of information on
long-distance trade among the Tarascans during the Protohistoric period and shortly
thereafter (Roskamp 2001), as it shows the main communication routes between the
Tierra Caliente of Michoacán and the capital of the Tarascan state. In pre-Hispanic
times, the Tierra Caliente was highly-esteemed for its wealth of natural resources, such
as gold, silver, copper, salt, precious feathers, cacao and cotton. Copper minerals were
especially plentiful near the Tepalcatepec and Balsas Rivers (Roskamp 2001). In the
mid-15th century, independent chiefdoms in the Balsas River area were gradually
incorporated into the Tarascan Empire. At the same time, the Aztecs were showing
great interest in the area, and around 1476-1477 penetrated into Tarascan territory as far
as the environs of the present-day city of Morelia, where they were defeated and forced
to retreat (Roskamp 2003:64-65).
As mentioned previously, transportation costs in Mesoamerica were relatively
high, and that made it difficult to develop a macro-regional food economy like the ones
that existed in Europe and China (Blanton et al. 1981). In central Mexico, the tlamemes
(Figure 301) carried all sorts of merchandise from one place to another. We do not
know the exact weight of the loads they usually bore, but in the 16th century Bernal
Díaz del Castillo wrote that a tlameme carried around two arrobas (ca. 23 kg) over a
distance of five leagues (21-28 km) before being relieved of his burden (see Hassig
1985:28-32). However, these figures must be taken with caution, since there is a great
deal of variation in both the size of the loads and the distances traversed recorded in
documents from that period, especially according to the type of terrain (mountains,
gullies, jungle, forest, desert, etcetera), climatic conditions, and other factors that could

8
There is no ethnohistorical evidence of the presence of Aztec traders in the southwestern United States, though it has been
postulated tentatively based on archaeological remains (Reyman 1978).
 605

hinder the porters’ progress (Hassig 1985:33). Lawrence Feldman coined the phrase
‘tumpline economy’ to refer to the transport of goods in Mesoamerica, because it was
based on land portage on the backs of human bearers; a practice that subsisted in parts
of Mesoamerica until the early 20th century. According to Feldman (1985), the weight
of the merchandise rested on the shoulders of porters who used a mecapal (i.e. tumpline,
a 3-inch-wide leather strap) to carry great loads over a distance of two or three leagues
along well-defined routes. The strap, which went around the porter’s forehead, was
attached to a net or similar container made of palm fiber or reeds that hung from his
head and was supported on his back.
The tlamemes of the pre-Hispanic period formed a low-status occupational
stratum that worked as professional, organized bearers with established norms for the
types and weights of loads, periodic rests and burdens appropriate to the distance and
conditions of the trails they followed. They carried not only elite goods, such as cacao
and gold, but also everyday items like maize and cotton (Hassig 1985:39). Logically,
the distances travelled and load weights were inversely proportional. Though very
heavy burdens may have been transported in pre-Hispanic times, this did not necessarily
mean greater efficiency, since more porters would have been required to cover the same
distance (Hassig 1985). Robert Drennan (1984a) calculated that a load of 20 kg brought
maximum efficiency, though burdens of up to 50 kg are mentioned for some areas of
Mesoamerica. The loads carried by the tlamemes of the Aztec pochteca were not very
heavy. Drennan (1984a) suggests an average weight of 30 kg taken over a distance of 36
km. According to this author, transport costs in the middle Formative and Classic
periods (ca. 500 BC-AD 1000) meant that transporting food could not have been the
primary reason for using tlameme labor; rather, the goods that moved over long
distances on the backs of those porters were elite products, luxury items, or objects of
ritual importance, as well as strategic resources like obsidian. Indeed, Drennan
(1984b:39) argues that if maize were carried over such long distances, the porter would
have had to consume more energy than the very food he was carrying contained!
The Tribute System. The Tarascan state’s tribute network was the most important
institution for accumulating wealth. Through it, tribute flowed from all corners of the
empire to the royal coffers in Tzintzuntzan. According to Pollard (1993), this network
was centralized, hierarchically-organized, and primarily a political institution. The
goods that circulated in the form of tribute traversed several levels before finally
reaching the capital (p. 116). Tribute goods went from producers dispersed throughout
 606

the kingdom to medium-sized collection centers (called cabeceras or headtowns in

16th-century documents), before eventually arriving in Tzintzuntzan (Beltrán 1982).
Some of those goods, especially obsidian artifacts, fine ceramics and metal objects
(copper, bronze, silver, gold), were later commercialized through markets, or
redistributed in different directions, but most tribute was consumed by the ruling class.
Likely exceptions were textiles and food, which were distributed during important ritual
occasions (pp. 161-162). The tribute system proved to be an excellent mechanism for
integrating several geographic regions and different ecological niches, especially the hot
lowlands with the temperate highlands (Beltrán 1982). Because the system was
designed to permit the circulation of elite goods, it led to the accumulation of wealth by
the ruling stratum of society; though the ceremonial obligations and political control
exercised by the authorities over the distribution of this wealth considerably limited the
possibility that a minority might become rich at the expense of the common people
solely through the tribute system (pp. 162-163).
According to Pollard (2003a), apart from the tribute networks, there were other
institutional channels through which goods and services flowed: namely, long-distance
merchants, the state’s own agricultural lands and mines, and gift exchange. However,
taxes, paid both in kind and services, were the most important source of revenue for the
political economy and provided the principal support for the state apparatus. It is clear
that the tribute system was totally controlled by the ruling dynasty, which utilized an
extensive bureaucracy to manage tax collection and assure timely compliance of all
obligations. The goods most frequently found in 16th-century tribute rolls are maize,
cotton cloth and clothes, slaves, victims for sacrifice, domestic services, metal objects,
weapons, tropical fruits, cacao, raw cotton, gourds, animal skins, tropical bird feathers,
gold, silver, copper, salt, beans, chili peppers, rabbits, turkeys, honey, wine from the
maguey plant (Agave sp.), feathers from local bird species, and clay vessels (Pollard
2003a). The fact is that the ultimate objective of military conquest was to widen the
field for gathering tribute (Beltrán 1982). This system was organized as a pyramid, with
Tzintzuntzan at the top and various cabeceras directly beneath it. Caciques (chieftains)
were obliged to collect tribute from their respective subject towns and send it to the
capital in a timely fashion. This was supervised by the ocambecha or tax collector.
Artisans and merchants paid tribute in kind from their respective crafts or products, and
were exempt from providing services, except in times of extreme need (pp. 154-156).
 607

In central Mexico during the late Postclassic, as in other areas of Mesoamerica,

including Michoacán, tribute was influenced by several factors: (1) the antiquity of
conquest and the distance from the capital, with the nearer provinces obliged to pay
largely in food and clothing; (2) the availability of the required goods, since tribute was
usually paid in products that were readily available in each province; and (3) resistance
to conquest or rebellion, for if a town resisted or attempted to escape this yoke, its taxes
would be increased as punishment. Usually, the tribute districts closer to the capital paid
with large amounts of bulky but often low-value goods, while more distant regions
provided elite products that were of great value, but in low volumes (Hassig 1985).
In order to comprehend the nature of the Mesoamerican tribute system, we must
first understand the logic of warfare in this cultural area, since war was the primary
mechanism that ensured the flow of goods towards the capitals of different empires. As
noted above, military conquest was not designed to gain absolute control over extensive
territories, but only firm control of political centers, since once a headtown was
subdued, all its dependent territories automatically became subject lands as well. This
allowed tribute to be gathered from a broad region simply by conquering the regional
ruling center, often with no need to modify local power structures (Hassig 1985:103).
Hassig (1985) has stated that ‘the actual functioning of the Aztec tribute system
may be analyzed at the imperial level and at the provincial level. At the imperial level
the Aztecs… drew tribute from 38 provinces… At the provincial level, goods were
directed from sujetos to dependent cabeceras, and from there to provincial centers. The
officials in charge of the tribute system were the calpixqueh, either imperial or local’ (p.
105). The system had a pyramid-like structure (Figure 302) and relied ‘on a local
official… to collect tribute goods at the local, or calpolli, level and take them to the
regional center. There the calpixqueh transferred them to the provincial center, where
imperial calpixqueh supervised their delivery to Tenochtitlan’ (p. 106).
Another important contribution to this general subject comes from Smith (2014),
who explored the nature of Aztec political economy, including tribute and other
mechanisms by which the state appropriated the wealth and labor of the people. Smith
sees the Aztec political system as made up of hundreds of city-states integrated by a
common culture. These states were ruled by a king or tlatoani, aided by a council of
leading nobles. According to Smith, Aztec society had two social classes: on the one
hand, a hereditary nobility that handled government and controlled all the farmland,
and, on the other, the plebeians. In both classes, there was some internal gradation
 608

regarding personal wealth, access to power, and other social attributes. Regarding the
flow of fiscal revenue for the elites, Smith says that the Aztecs had a true taxation
system. In his view, unlike tribute, taxes are usually recurrent, predictable, routine and
based on statutory obligations (pp. 71, 72). In this regard, the Aztec document known as
the Codex Mendoza (Figure 303) is of primary importance for understanding the
tributary system of this empire. 9 Although the situation in the Tarascan Empire was not
necessarily the same as the Aztec case mentioned above, the latter may well provide
examples for establishing analogies that are applicable to most Mesoamerican states.
Circulation of Rare and Strategic Resources within the Tarascan Empire
This section deals with the circulation of several scarce or strategic goods within the
Tarascan territory for which we have archaeological information and, in some cases,
historical sources as well. These goods are obsidian, common salt, metals (primarily
copper), and turquoise. 10 The objective is to reconstruct, at least in part, the distributive
system, whether commercial or tributary, through which these essential goods could
have flowed from production centers to the state capital.
Obsidian. Technology in Mesoamerica faced a whole series of limiting factors in
comparison to that of the Old World. The main handicaps we must take into account are
the absence of beasts of burden and the non-existence of the technological complex
derived from iron-smelting. Thus, it could be said that Mesoamerica never achieved a
level of development beyond that of the Neolithic period of the Old World (cfr. Clark
1977), in which rocks like obsidian functioned as raw material for all kinds of tools:
axes, knives, blades, projectile points, etcetera. One activity that was sponsored by the
state and required huge amounts of obsidian objects was the manufacture of weapons
for warfare. All reports that mention obsidian as part of the tribute received by the Aztec
Empire point out that it was used to make several kinds of arms, especially the
macuahuitl (Figure 304), a sword-like implement made of wood with sharp obsidian
blades inserted on both edges (Healan 1993:460), and a lance with obsidian blades on
one end (Figure 305).

9
The page of Codex Mendoza in Figure 303 includes the names of the tributary towns (left column) and the items paid periodically
to the Aztec Empire (from top row to bottom): two necklaces of chalchihuitl (green stones, probably turquoise), 2,400 handfuls of
rich colored feathers, two lots of 80 whole skins of the bird shown, 1,600 handfuls of rich feathers, two lip plugs made of amber set
in gold, 40 jaguar skins, 200 loads of cacao beans, 800 tecomates (cups for drinking chocolate), and two large pieces of clean amber
(Ross 1984:61).
10
There are no natural turquoise deposits in the area ruled by the Tarascan Empire; in fact, the main deposits are in the
Southwestern United States. But we have included this mineral because its long-distance trade was probably influenced –if not
regulated– by the Tarascans, since the main trade routes crossed the core area of their Empire (Weigand 1995a).
 609

While on the topic of obsidian, it is important to note that part of the Tarascan
territory is an eminently volcanic region, so there is an abundance of geological
products of igneous activity, including obsidian (Figure 306). From very early times,
the inhabitants of Mesoamerica discovered the virtues of this mineral, and Michoacán
was no exception (Healan 1994, 2011a). However, not all obsidian was of the same
quality, so there were systems and routes of exchange among several regions within and
beyond the area we now know as Michoacán. For instance, obsidian from deposits near
the present-day towns of Ucareo and Zinapécuaro in northwestern Michoacán has been
identified in archaeological contexts widely-dispersed in space and time (see previous
section). Unfortunately, information on the mechanisms through which obsidian
travelled over such great distances is scanty, though Pollard has suggested the following
scenario based on the distribution of obsidian artifacts and debitage (i.e. small
fragments produced by knapping) and ethnohistorical accounts: that the obsidian
obtained inside the empire was distributed through regional market systems, while the
mineral that arrived from outside the Tarascan territory was acquired by long-distance
merchants, probably under direct state control (Pollard et al. 2001:292).
Although the Ucareo-Zinapécuaro obsidian deposits were inside the area under
the direct control of Tzintzuntzan’s royal dynasty, very little Tarascan ceramic material
has been found in the area of obsidian extraction. According to Healan (2004), this
coincides with ethnohistorical information that mentions the existence of a relatively
small number of Tarascans in this particular region at the time of the Spanish conquest.
Healan believes that this situation may reflect the Tarascan Empire’s ability to exploit
this resource by levying taxes –a practice characteristic of hegemonic empires– that
would have obviated any need for the presence of large contingents of Tarascans in the
producing sites (Healan 2004, 1997).
In addition to these obsidian deposits, there were others of equal importance; for
example in Zináparo-Varal in the northwestern Tarascan area (Darras 1994). According
to Pollard and Vogel (1994), exploitation of these quarries seems to reflect both the
regularization of markets and specialization in obsidian distribution. The Tarascan
capital and sites on the eastern frontier obtained grey-black obsidian from Ucareo-
Zinapécuaro, while other regions in the empire obtained theirs from Zináparo-Varal.
This could mean that most of the obsidian produced in the region discussed here moved
through distinct trade districts that may have covered areas beyond the state’s territorial
limits. This was made possible by market patterns, not tribute or long-distance
 610

merchants. On the other hand, unlike the grey-black variety, green obsidian may have
been acquired by long-distance traders using intermediaries, or by other merchants who
procured stones from many sources (Pollard and Vogel 1994:171-173).
According to Healan (2011), although it is often argued that control over
obsidian sources played an important role in the political economy of many
Mesoamerican societies, there is in fact little evidence in the archaeological literature of
restricted access to obsidian sources. Apparently, the most convincing indicator of
monopolistic control of a source in West Mexico comes from Teuchitlán and its
obsidian quarries at La Mora, Jalisco (Weigand et al. 2004). However, we should bear
in mind that this obsidian is found in contemporary sites in such a way that suggests it
was obtained directly from the source itself, rather than from Teuchitlán workshops
(Healan 2011:200).
In her study of obsidian artifacts from the Lake Zacapu Basin and other areas of
the Lerma River region, Darras (2008) found that the obsidian industry underwent great
changes between the Late Classic (ca. AD 600-900) and the Late Postclassic (ca. AD
1200-1450). These changes transformed several aspects of the blade production
industry, such as raw material procurement strategies, the organization of manufacture,
and the distribution and consumption of the finished products. The obsidian workers at
the Zináparo and Varal sources developed a new percussion blade technology during the
Epiclassic (ca. AD 900) and Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900-1200) periods. These new
blades were marketed throughout the region, while prismatic blades were not very
common and were moved via long-distance trade networks.
During the Middle Postclassic period (ca. AD 1200), a sophisticated prismatic-
blade technology developed in the Lake Zacapu region (Figure 307). It replaced the
existing production system, and eventually became a very common type of artifact.
Darras shows the mechanisms by which blade production was organized in this part of
the Tarascan area and suggests that technological changes, including modifications in
the organization of production, can be linked to the structure of the social and political
systems where the changes took place.
We have seen in previous chapters of this book that the Lerma River Basin and
the Zacapu Basin were densely-populated during the Classic period, while the Lake
Pátzcuaro Basin and the rest of the Tarascan cultural area was covered by many
settlements in the Postclassic. These populations required huge amounts of obsidian,
and the area studied by Darras (among others) was important in supplying the demand.
 611

Salt. I have mentioned repeatedly the lack of domestic animals in pre-Hispanic

Mesoamerica similar to the cows, sheep, goats and pigs introduced by the Spaniards in
the 16th century, and that Mesoamerica was the only primary civilization in the ancient
world in which cattle-raising could not be utilized to extend productive landscapes to
agriculturally-marginal areas (Diamond 1999; Parsons 2006; Weigand 2000). This also
meant that common salt had to be added to the diet to ensure proper nutrition (Williams
2015, 2018). The importance of salt through history can be understood if we take a look
at the role it has played in human physiology and nutrition. Salt is essential for nutrition
and for most physiological processes in all animals, including humans. This chemical
compound is present in all tissues and fluids of the human body. Sodium chloride is
ingested by all living creatures. In humans, the amount and concentration in the body
must be kept within well-defined limits, a process that relies on a wide variety of
coordinated physiological mechanisms that control the concentration and expulsion of
salt so that the amount that is eliminated daily corresponds exactly to the intake through
food or other means (Dauphinee 1960:382). Many people with vegetarian diets suffer
from a lack of salt. In India, for example, the scarcity of this chemical compound means
that more people die in times of epidemics or famine, while in parts of Equatorial Africa
some human groups are weakened by salt deprivation (Bergier 1982:11).
Salt became a strategic resource in Mesoamerica, including the Tarascan
Empire, because it was indispensable not just for nutrition, but for many other uses as
well, such as preserving fish and as mordant for fixing dyes in the textile industry
(Parsons 2001). Huge amounts of salt were consumed by these and other economic
activities.
As we have seen, the flow of strategic and scarce goods from the subject
provinces to the imperial core was ensured by the king, or cazonci, through a
geopolitical strategy that kept conquered communities under the obligation to pay
tribute and maintain the lines of communication with the capital open at all times. This
strategy explains how the Tarascan state became one of the most powerful empires of
the Late Postclassic, rivalling even the Aztecs. The procurement of salt and other
strategic resources, as well as their distribution, military control over source areas, and
the extraction of tribute, were all critical aspects of the economic and social life of the
Tarascans and other Mesoamerican polities.
 612

Today saltpeter and tequesquite 11 are gathered on the margins of Lake Cuitzeo
(see the discussion in the previous section). The former is used as a complement to
cattle feed, while the latter is taken by muleteers to tierra caliente (the hot lands of the
Tepalcatepec River Basin) in Michoacán, where it is exchanged for fruit and
cascalote. 12 Lime is another important mineral extracted from the lake bed. Processed
in kilns and used to make nixtamal, 13 it is sold almost exclusively within the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin (Corona Nuñez 1946:43).
We saw earlier in this book that during the Classic period, the Lerma River
drainage had a dense population living in agricultural settlements. Between ca. AD 600
and 850, we see a rapid expansion of the network of dispersed settlements that
eventually came to cover the entire region. There may have been larger towns with elite
populations, market sites and religious centers, but the dispersed settlement pattern and
the existence of many villages and hamlets may well suggest a social organization with
a relatively decentralized power structure (Faugère-Kalfon 1996:130). The first
defensive sites there appeared between the ninth and 13th centuries, and the population
became more densely-packed through a process that accelerated during the early
Postclassic (Faugère-Kalfon 1996:133, 142). There were many settlements –urban
centers, ceremonial sites, towns and hamlets– in this area, and they must have needed
huge amounts of salt for their subsistence. The main salt sources in the Lerma River
region are clustered almost entirely in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin (see the maps published
by Mendizábal 1928; Valdez et al. 1996b: Figure 4; Ewald 1997: Map 14). Therefore,
salt-producing sites were a crucial factor for the economic, political and military
strategies of the societies of the Bajío and its hinterland from the Formative and Classic
periods onwards. In the Protohistoric period, the Tarascan Empire had a strong presence
in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin as it sought to control the obsidian and salt deposits that were
a source of wealth for the empire (see discussion in Williams 2009b).
Another area of interest for the study of salt production in Michoacán is the
Pacific coast. In ancient times, the coast of West Mexico was very important as a
provider of salt to inland populations (Williams 2002, 2015, 2018, 2019). From pre-
Hispanic times until some 60 years ago, the stretch of the coast of Michoacán and

11
Natural salt that was used in Mexico as a food seasoning from pre-Hispanic times. It is composed primarily of bicarbonate of soda
and common salt (sodium chloride).
12
A leguminous plant (Caesalpinia coriaria) from southern Mexico, whose gum and seeds are used to produce tannins for
processing animal skins.
13
Processed maize; after boiling the kernels and eliminating their outer skin, it is ground to make flour for tortilla and tamale
preparation.
 613

Colima from Cuyutlán in the north to Maruata in the south (Figure 308) was a veritable
salt emporium, with countless sites, large and small, where salt was produced (Figure
309). At the end of the 19th century, the year-round population of the salt-making area
in coastal Colima, next to the area mentioned above, was not even 50 individuals, but
around the 16th century and later, during the salt-making season, as many as five
thousand people congregated at the salt-making sites there. To the salt-makers who
came from throughout the Colima region we must add muleteers and merchants, mostly
from Michoacán and Nueva Galicia (i.e. present-day Jalisco) (Reyes 1995:149).
According to one local informant, around 1925 salt was the ‘white gold’ of the
Michoacán-Colima coast. During the salt-making season, La Placita (the main salt-
producing community on the Michoacán coast) had a temporary market where
merchants came from many distant places and it was possible to find the following
products, among many other trade items: pottery wares from Patamban, steel knives
from Sayula, machetes from Coalcomán, sweets from Colima, sombreros (hats) from
Sahuayo, huaraches (sandals) from Pihuamo, blankets and jorongos (an outer garment
made of wool) from Tapalpa, and bedspreads from San Juan Parangaricutirimícuaro
(Paricutín, or San Juan de las Colchas). Also linked to the economic boom generated by
salt was a modest cantina in La Placita where one could have a few drinks and find a
lady for the night (Méndez Acevedo 1999).
An informant from Maquilí told the author that the salt produced in Coalcomán
was exchanged for maize, beans and tomatoes, among many other goods. The salt-
makers had no need for money, because everything could be paid for with salt, even
pistols. Muleteers used to come from Tepalcatepec, Apatzingán and Uruapan leading as
many as 60 mules each. There was a camino real (High Road) from Los Reyes and
Peribán to Pueblo Nuevo. The muleteers brought their own food for the trip to
Coalcomán, which took three days. In addition to salt, they traded bananas and
coconuts. Some of the muleteers bought and sold salt, which they would store in a
nearby town. People still come to La Placita from Coalcomán, Apatzingán and the
cattle-raising area in the hills between Jalisco and Michoacán to buy salt, an important
ingredient in cheese-making. People from broad regions came for salt in exchange for
several products: maize, beans, brown sugar, soap, cheese, chickpeas, potatoes,
mangoes, bananas, mamey, prunes, onions, sugar, firewood, and so on. One measure of
beans or prunes, for example, had the same value as one measure of salt.
 614

In regions bordering the study area (Colima to the north, Guerrero to the south),
muleteers carried salt over vast distances until they were replaced by the railroad some
70 years ago. In Guerrero, for example, as recently as 1939 Nahuas from the Balsas
Valley marketed salt from the Costa Chica as itinerant sellers. For generations they
combined salt-trading in the dry season with agriculture during the rainy season (June-
October). To obtain salt, the Nahuas formed caravans of 20-25 burros or mules driven
by 10 or 12 men. The trek from the Balsas Valley to the coast was about 150 km over
mountainous terrain, and required several days of travel. Coastal informants spoke of
the constant arrival and departure of mule-trains consisting of hundreds of pack animals
from different highland towns (Good 1995:8-10).
Along the Michoacán coast during the colonial period and well into the 19th
century, muleteers were among the most important pillars of the economy, as they were
in the rest of Michoacán and many other areas of Mexico. Michoacán muleteers set out
from places like Zamora, Purépero and Cotija to travel to central and northern Mexico,
as well as Jalisco, Guanajuato, Veracruz and Tabasco (Sánchez 1984:41, 47). During
the 16th century in Colima, the encomenderos and corregidores relied almost
exclusively on tlamemes to transport salt; a practice that continued into the early 17th
century. Carriers took salt to several places, some of them quite distant from the coast of
Colima, such as Mexico City. Eventually, the Viceroy of New Spain tried to forbid the
use of tlamemes, but what really ended this inhumane practice was the scarcity of
Indians due to famine and epidemics, as well as the growing need to move ever greater
volumes of salt and do so more expeditiously (Reyes 1998:152).
Although the coastal area of southwestern Michoacán was never fully-
incorporated into the Tarascan Empire (Pollard 1993: Map 8.1; Beltrán 1982), salt
produced there surely found its way –together with many other goods, among them
precious seashells– into the Tarascan heartland in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. According
to the Relación de la Provincia de Motines [1580], in the 16th century there was a well-
established trade route from the province of Motines to Pátzcuaro. This trail went by
way of Uruapan, covering a distance of 37 or 38 leagues. It was relatively straight, but
traversed hilly terrain and many gorges. Another route went by way of Peribán, Santa
Ana and San Pedro, over easier terrain, covering a distance of 40 leagues (Acuña
1987:179; see Williams 2015: Figure 80). In colonial times, a road network connected
the coast to Pátzcuaro, from Coahuayana to Zacatula through the coastal area, and from
 615

there to Uruapan and then on to Pátzcuaro. Many of those roads had existed since pre-
Hispanic times (Espejel 1992: Maps 3, 4).
As I argue elsewhere (Williams 2010, 2015, 2018, 2019), the northwest coast of
Michoacán and adjoining areas of coastal Colima produced great amounts of salt. Based
on the production figures reported by informants for the pre-1950 period, the whole of
the coast must have produced hundreds of tons of salt, which was traded with people
from an extensive region. In the pre-Hispanic period, at least part of the production may
have been paid as tribute to the Tarascan Empire.
Because salt is usually not preserved in the archaeological record, it is easier to
study salt-making techniques and the artifacts and features related to these techniques,
than it is to explore the routes followed by salt merchants (Woldekiros 2019). Using an
ethnoarchaeological and ethnohistorical perspective, the author was able to identify the
main production sites in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and the coast of Michoacán and Colima
(Williams 2010, 2015, 2018), as well as the areas covered by salt-traders in the past
throughout these two regions. This information is very valuable for figuring out the role
played by sodium chloride and other critical goods in the expansion of the Tarascan
Empire.
Metals. Metallurgy probably appeared in Western Mexico before it did in other areas of
Mesoamerica, perhaps going back as far as the Late Classic (between ca. AD 600 and
800; Hosler 1998:321, 1994a:263). Metal objects (copper, bronze, gold, silver) were
fundamental items for communicating the symbolism of social and political power, as
well as indicators of membership in the elite stratum of society (Figure 310). Metal
objects were often sacred and essential for the performance of religious ceremonies.
They were also elements of wealth that could be stored and transported (Pollard 1987).
Control over the production, distribution and consumption of metal artifacts, both
utilitarian (needles, awls, tweezers, axes, burins, fishhooks, etcetera) and ornamental
(bells, beads, earrings, rings and pins, among others), was strategic for the ruling elites,
as it fostered centralization of power (p. 741).
Great quantities of gold, silver and copper objects were stored in the royal
palaces. In fact, most metal objects were held in the city of Tzintzuntzan and other royal
treasuries in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Metal objects (both finished items and ingots)
arrived at the royal coffers through several channels: (1) gifts given to the king by
foreign visitors; (2) objects acquired by long-distance merchants acting in the name of
the state; (3) gold, silver or copper ingots, or finished items, paid as tribute to chieftains
 616

(who would then send part to the capital); (4) the direct flow of copper ingots from
state-controlled mines to royal storerooms; and, possibly (5) circulation through market
networks, both local and regional (pp. 744-745). Most of the gold and silver that
reached the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin did so through the tribute system. This material came
from distant regions: the southwestern frontier and far western areas of the empire, the
Tepalcatepec and Balsas river basins, and perhaps small amounts of silver from the
Lake Cuitzeo Basin (p. 747).
Elsewhere in Mesoamerica, we see that several authors have suggested that most
of the ornaments made of gold that the Spaniards found in the Basin of Mexico had
been imported from the Mixtec area, or had been made by Mixtec goldsmiths working
in Tenochtitlan and Azcapotzalco (e.g. Solís and Velasco 2002). Timothy King (2015),
however, has refuted this notion, for he argues that by the end of the 15th century the
Triple Alliance had witnessed the development of a large-scale metalworking tradition
(Figure 311) based primarily on gold, with multi-ethnic characteristics and a high level
of skill. These artisans produced thousands of gold ornaments each year (Figure 312),
interacted with other artisans from Mesoamerica (Figure 313), and exported numerous
items to other parts of the empire (p. 313). King calculates that the Triple Alliance
received between 323 and 392 kg of gold dust or ingots each year from the provinces
mentioned in the Codex Mendoza, together with 84 lip-plugs made of amber or rock
crystal mounted on gold, and various gold adornments (p. 316). King arrived at the
conclusion that the expansion of the community of goldsmiths in Aztec urban centers
was encouraged after the inception of the Triple Alliance, and continued to grow until
the Spanish Conquest. This growth was fostered in part by a system of royal patronage
that used presents of luxury crafts to bolster military alliances and strengthen links
between city-states, and so maintain political control over the empire (p. 316).
Another study that underlines the significant role of metalwork (especially gold)
in Aztec society comes from Leonardo López Luján et al. (2015), who described a
unique archaeological find: the burial of an Aztec goldsmith discovered during
excavations of the Mexico City underground transit system (Metro). These human
remains were found with an unusual offering: two fragments of fossilized wood, and
two heavy, metal lip-plugs, as well as raw materials, tools and products associated with
metalwork: fragments of malachite, two copper bars, one thick and one thin, that may
have served as sources of pure metal or as blanks (p. 56). López Luján et al. arrived at
the following conclusion: ‘In the context of central-Mexican archaeology, [this]
 617

burial… is exceptional. Its offerings include objects linked with lapidary and metal
work… The person buried with these objects was an old male, whose skeleton shows
the scars [sic] of constant physical strain demanded by the artisan’s occupation. Judging
by the burial offerings, he would have enjoyed a high status during his life, the status
reserved for someone who knew the secrets of a highly specialized trade’ (p. 57).
Returning to Michoacán, we see that ethnohistorical information from the
Relación de Michoacán and the Relaciones geográficas, among other sources, indicates
that some mining activities, as well as the smelting and production of metal objects,
were undertaken by full-time specialists under direct state supervision. The production
of ingots from molten ore took place in smelting centers in the Sierra Madre del Sur and
the Balsas River drainage system (Guerrero), among other areas (Hosler 2004); while
some manufacture of metal objects occurred in the Tarascan capital, probably at
installations located inside the cazonci’s palace (Pollard et al. 2001:295).
Very little archaeological attention has been paid to surveying the general area
of metal production in Michoacán in order to locate mines where the metal was
extracted, or workshops where it was processed in ancient times. In the mid-1980s,
Dora Grimberg (1995) did conduct a survey of part of the Balsas River Basin in search
of the copper mines mentioned in the Lienzo de Jucutacato (cfr. Roskamp 1998, 2001)
and in some 16th-century Spanish documents found in the Archivo General de Indias in
Seville, Spain. According to Grimberg (1995), Tarascan miners lived at the foot of the
hills where the mines were located. Their main activity was agriculture, and they would
look for copper only when the state demanded it, later sending the metal to the capital in
the form of ingots of standardized shape, which were first collected by the ocambecha
and carried to Xiuhquilan (Jicalan), where metalsmiths transformed them into artifacts
that eventually ended up in Tzintzuntzan (p. 262).
The Tarascan state regarded political control of the main metal-producing areas
of West Mexico as a strategic priority; so it is no coincidence that the two areas with the
most abundant gold and silver deposits (the southeast and western ends, respectively)
were located on the empire’s military frontiers (Pollard 1987:750). The analysis of
metal artifacts found in archaeological excavations carried out in Atoyac, in the Lake
Sayula Basin, suggests that the sources of the copper used there were in Jalisco and
Michoacán. However, we do not know where the artifacts were actually made, nor who
made them, because no evidence of the metallurgical process (slag, kilns, molds,
etcetera) has yet been found there. Some metal objects, particularly Tarascan-style
 618

tweezers, were likely made in Michoacán, but no workshops have been found (Hosler
1998:325).
Many objects made of copper or copper alloys found in archaeological sites in
central, southern and eastern Mesoamerica were probably produced in West Mexico
(Hosler 1998:319). These include, for instance, the metal artifacts found in many
Huastec centers in Tamaulipas, at Aztec sites in the state of Morelos, and other
examples in Oaxaca and the Soconusco region of Chiapas. These objects were made
primarily with minerals from West Mexico, and it is very likely that they were forged
by metalsmiths from West Mexico as well, prior to being exported to other areas of
Mesoamerica (Hosler 1998:326). During Period II of Western Mexican metallurgy (ca.
AD 1200-1521), certain technological features were diffused to other regions of
Mesoamerica, including raw materials, artifacts and knowledge of metallurgical
processes. Some artifacts found outside West Mexico suggest that the main export
articles were status markers or ritual objects, especially bells manufactured using the so-
called “wire” technology (Figure 314). Those objects were made by artisans in the
Michoacán highlands and adjacent areas of northern Guerrero, and were transported
from there to a wide area that spanned the modern-day states of Morelos, Tamaulipas,
Oaxaca, Chiapas, Tabasco and Yucatán, and extended as far south as Belize and
Honduras. Extant documentary and archaeological information suggests that artifacts
made of tin-bronze were distributed through the tribute and market systems of both
Tarascans and Aztecs, while other ethnic groups (e.g. Otomí, Matlatzinca) may have
functioned as commercial intermediaries (Hosler 1994a:197, 223; Pollard 2003a).
Recent research by Blanca Maldonado (2011, 2018) on the possible presence of
a domestic metal industry in Tarascan territory suggests that the nature and degree of
involvement and control of the state over metal production may have varied widely over
time and from one area of the empire to another, though the predominant economic
strategy appears to have been based on intermittent production, at least for some stages
of the manufacture of copper objects.
Turquoise. In his seminal study of turquoise production and trade in Mesoamerica,
Weigand (1995a) suggested that the exploration, exploitation and procurement of
minerals were part of the organizational postulates of the formation of the commercial
structure of ancient Mesoamerica (Figure 315). During the Postclassic period, turquoise
overtook the other green stone coveted by Mesoamericans –jade– in terms of levels of
consumption, popularity and economic importance (p. 115). The mining complex at
 619

Chalchihuites, Zacatecas, probably began activities during the Early Classic period
(Canutillo phase, ca. AD 200-500) and reached its apogee around the Late Classic (Alta
Vista and Vesuvio phases, ca. AD 500-800). It was traders from Chalchihuites who
gave further impetus to the systematic acquisition of greenstone during the Classic
period. In addition to extracting it themselves, they monopolized the production from
other areas with the goal of exchanging it outside their territory 14 (pp. 118-120).
Although a few turquoise objects dating to the 6th century have been found in
Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, evidence is scarce before the 10th century AD, and the
mining boom took place between 1350 or 1375 and 1600. The mines at Cerrillos, New
Mexico, are the best documented ones to date (Mathien 2001:103-104).
But turquoise was more than just a valuable possession, for in pre-Hispanic
times it became a symbol of status and nobility. Turquoise is quite abundant in many
archaeological finds in Mesoamerica, though there are no natural deposits of this rock in
this cultural area. In fact, the largest deposits are found in the Southwestern United
States and adjacent areas of northern Mexico, as stated previously. That there was a
formal and highly-structured trade in turquoise between these regions and nuclear
Mesoamerica is reflected in the fact that over a million pieces of this stone have been
found by archaeological projects in the Southwest and Mesoamerica. Thanks to nuclear
activation analysis, we know that many of the stones found in Mexico came from
specific mines in New Mexico, Arizona and Nevada (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:78-
79).
The earliest find of this green gem is dated at around AD 600, but it was not
until the Late Classic (ca. AD 700-900) and Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900-1200) that
the use of turquoise became generalized throughout Mesoamerica. A large proportion of
this stone came from Cerrillos, New Mexico, though there were other sources as well.
Chaco Canyon seems to have controlled its distribution in an almost monopolistic way.
Eventually, the peoples of the Southwest began to send finished objects made of
turquoise to Mesoamerica instead of the uncut stone in bulk form; providing the first
evidence of the structural integration of the Southwest into the commercial system of
Mesoamerica (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:80-81).
Around AD 600, miners at Chalchihuites, Zacatecas, were extracting an almost
endless variety of minerals: malachite, azurite, flint or chert, cinnabar, hematite and
14
There are no turquoise deposits in the Chalchihuites area; miners there exploited malachite and azurite. The knowledge thus
gained may have enabled those experienced miners to obtain turquoise from further north, thus initiating a procurement system (Phil
Weigand, pers. comm.).
 620

probably native copper. Around one hundred years later, evidence appears of large-scale
turquoise work arising in the area of Cerrillos, New Mexico, as mentioned above. At
that time, the inhabitants of Alta Vista (Zacatecas) began to import large quantities of
rough turquoise, also from Cerrillos. In fact, workshops where these objects were
manufactured have been found in Alta Vista, including the largest ones in all of
Mesoamerica dedicated to working this valuable green stone. Part of the production
remained at the site, while the rest was sent to the great urban centers of the Classic
period: Teotihuacan and Cholula, among others (Harbottle and Weigand 1992: 80).
Turquoise consumption continued to increase in importance in both
Mesoamerica and the Southwest through the 13th century AD. In order to satisfy the
growing demand, additional sources were opened and new trading sites appeared,
foremost among them Casas Grandes, Chihuahua. During the Late Postclassic, the
Tarascan Empire exerted control over the trade routes running along the Pacific coastal
plain. Although the Tarascans may not have been directly involved in the turquoise
trade, we know that this and other green stones were highly-valued by their elite.
Moreover, other polities may have imposed their own conditions to allow the flow of
trade to run through their territories (Harbottle and Weigand 1992:80). 15
The distance between the northern periphery of Mesoamerica and its central
areas is considerable, but part of the journey may have been made by water, following
rivers, lakes or the coastline. A second route surely ran inland, along the eastern flanks
of the Sierra Madre Occidental through scarcely-populated areas with no natural
barriers (see discussion in Chapter VI). In the Jalisco highlands and Lerma River
watershed, there were independent polities that would have been powerful enough to
hinder progress along trade routes there. The merchants who took turquoise from
northern to central Mexico may have exchanged it for a broad range of products, though
archaeological evidence for this is not abundant. One trade element that has been
preserved in the archaeological record consists of seashells from the Gulf of Mexico,
many of which have been found in archaeological sites in the Southwest (Harbottle and
Weigand 1992:82-84). Other goods obtained in exchange for turquoise were marine
shells from the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of California, parrot and macaw feathers
from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, cotton, and copper bells made in Western Mexico.
Exchange of these sumptuary or scarce goods may have been controlled by regional

15
For instance, turquoise from Cerrillos has been found in Guasave (Sinaloa), Ixtlán del Río (Nayarit), Zacoalco, and Las Cuevas
(Jalisco) (Weigand 1995a:124).
 621

chieftains (Plog 1997:24, 113). The main stimulus for this extensive trade was the
demand for green stones, but once the trade routes opened, other minerals were
exported south, including garnet and peridotite. Eventually, additional trade goods were
added to the list: bison skins, salt, and perhaps slaves or war captives (Riley 1995:114).
Linda Cordell (1984) states that there may have been a migration of people from
Mexico to the Southwest, an argument she bases on a series of shared cultural traits that
included ‘a well-developed ceramic complex, clay figurines, cremations, a sophisticated
and lengthy canal system, excavated wells, trough metates, turquoise mosaics, and a
well-developed shell industry’ (p. 162). To this list we should add ball courts,
ceremonial platforms, worked copper (presumably from Western Mexico), and shells
from the Gulf of Mexico (Riley 2005). While the idea of large-scale migration is open
to debate, it could help explain the similarities between these two regions and the
development of their closely-knit trade networks.
Although Pollard (2003b) points out that there is no direct archaeological
evidence to support the idea that the Tarascan state exerted control over the turquoise
trade, there is no doubt that Tarascan elites coveted this stone. One example is the find
of an elite tomb in Tres Cerritos, the site in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin discussed earlier 16
that contained a veritable treasure trove of turquoise objects, including 43 irregularly-
shaped plaques that may have been part of a mosaic, since a yellowish paste that
functioned as glue still adhered to them. Other items of green stone found in this tomb
are 86 beads of different sizes and shapes, most of them round, and a highly-polished,
thin plaque in the shape of a half-moon with two perforations that was surely part of a
pectoral. The list of green stone items found there includes three trapezoidal plaques
with a perforation at one end, and two moon-shaped plaques (Macías Goytia 1998:176).
Turquoise has also been found in elite burials at Urichu, an important pre-
Hispanic site in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Pollard and Cahue 1999: Figure 10, p. 273).
Finally, the Museo Michoacano (in Morelia, Michoacán) has several pre-Hispanic
objects (sadly with no known archaeological context) made of green stone: necklaces,
beads and pectorals, all showing a high level of workmanship. Items like these were
reserved for the highest stratum of Tarascan society (see illustrations in Boehm [editor]
1994: pp. 194, 209, 215).

16
The tombs at Tres Cerritos appear to have been utilized more than once, since they show a mixture of Teotihuacan and Tarascan
cultural materials; therefore, the turquoise found there could considerably pre-date the Tarascan occupation of this site.
 622

Green stones like jadeite, diorite, serpentine and turquoise were the most
important gemstones in Mesoamerica. Jade was the most highly-valued stone among the
Olmecs of the Formative period, and was equally-prized by later cultures. Green stones
always had a privileged and outstanding role as, for instance, part of funerary
ceremonies or in the dedication of ritually- or politically-important buildings. The color
of turquoise was symbolically-equated with vegetation and water and so became a
metaphor for life and fertility. The Aztec symbol called chalchihuitl (the name given to
green stones in Nahuatl) stood for something precious. It is no coincidence that, like
green quetzal feathers and jade, the most highly-valued stone among the Aztecs and
other cultures of the Postclassic period was also green (Pasztory 1983:250).
Among the Aztecs, three kinds of turquoise were recognized according to
characteristics such as color, sheen and texture. The most sought-after variety was
called teoxiuitle, which was assumed to be constantly smoking. Regarded as belonging
to the gods, it was reserved for making objects associated with the cult of one deity or
another. A second kind of green stone, called xiuhtomolli, was used to make beads;
while a third, this one of a green-white color known as xiuhtomoltetl, was believed to
have medicinal properties. Turquoise was considered precious not just because it was
rare, but also because it was identified with rain deities such as Tlaloc and his consort,
Chalchiuhtlicue. Finally, for some Mesoamericans the blue-green color of turquoise
evoked the blue of the water and the sky (Shelton 1988:21-22).
During the Postclassic period, turquoise became not just a status symbol, but
also an indispensable preciosity for the ideological reproduction and legitimization of
the state. Therefore, it was among the Tarascan state’s strategic interests to ensure a
constant flow of turquoise towards the royal coffers. Although this imperial power may
not have monopolized the trade routes, it must have exerted some control, however
indirectly. In contrast, we know that the Aztecs maintained specialized jewelers who
made masks and other precious objects. Apart from turquoise and other green stones,
they required many other raw materials, such as pyrite, flint, lignite or jet (a form of
coal), gold, pigments, gemstones (rubies, emeralds, garnets), shell, wood and fibers, and
resins like copal, beeswax and glue (McEwan et al. 2006:27-37).
Agustín Melgar Tisoc (2014) studied several assemblages of green stones
excavated in the Aztec Great Temple (Figure 316), including turquoise (Figure 317).
He discovered that the Aztecs had deposited ‘thousands of turquoise items in different
offerings in the [various] construction stages within this building between 1325 and
 623

1520. Most of them are incrustations [of tesserae] forming complex mosaics, such as
disks and ornaments pertaining to certain deities’ (p. 1). Thanks to the compositional
analyses performed on the stones, Melgar Tisoc ‘was able to ascertain that most of the
pieces were turquoise from northwest Mexico and the United States Southwest’ (p. 1).
As for types of manufacture, it appears that there are three technological styles: one
linked to the Mixtecs, one with an apparent origin outside of Mesoamerica, and one
showing the techniques of the Aztec imperial style.
In this discussion of strategic resources I have included just a handful of
examples, for lack of space. Many more goods could be mentioned, such as cacao,
cotton, fine feathers and tobacco. Recent research by Lieto et al. (2019), based on the
chemical study of residues in Tarascan pots, suggests that the spouted vessels associated
with the Postclassic Tarascan elite (Figure 318) may have been used for drinking
chocolate. Pollard (2016) wrote that ‘one of the most representative expressions of the
Late Postclassic ceramic tradition are the spouted… vessels, usually decorated with
complex polychrome designs… Based on… chemical studies, spouted vessels had been
related to the consumption of a cacao drink by the detection of biomarkers of cacao,
theobromine and caffeine, absorbed into the clay walls of the vessels’ (p 164). 17
Meanwhile, cotton and maguey-fiber weaving is attested to by an assemblage of
spindle whorls discovered by Pollard (2016) in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Figure 319).
Pollard wrote about this find: ‘The spindle whorl [was] used for spinning cotton
thread… cotton is a plant that cannot grow in the highlands of the Pátzcuaro Basin...
However… raw cotton appears as an article of tribute from at least ten communities
named in the Relaciones Geográficas de Michoacán... Cotton yarn [used] to produce
fabric needed both a spindle and a spindle whorl’, and ‘it is the small whorls and bone
batons appearing archaeologically that document local production of cotton fabric’ (p.
169).
Although little-known, the manufacture of ritual objects with fine feathers was a
well-established industry in many parts of Mesoamerica, including West Mexico (Olay
2004b). While archaeological information on feather work is scanty, some
ethnohistorical records, such as Sahagún’s Florentine Codex and ethnographic

17
Coe and Coe (1996:46) report fine Maya ceramic vessels with painted decorations and glyphs denoting the word for cacao in
ancient Maya (kakaw). This glyph is common in Maya elite cylindrical vases, so Coe and Coe believe the vases were used for cacao
production and consumption among the elite. Laboratory analysis discovered traces of theobromine and caffeine, cacao’s signature
markers. Centuries later, the Aztec pochteca were involved in the cacao trade, and were avid consumers of chocolate (p. 74).
 624

information (Mapelli 1993), could shed light on this aspect of Mesoamerican culture,
including West Mexico (Figure 320).
As for tobacco, it was probably reserved for ritual use, but may have been just as
addictive in the past as it is today, judging by the abundance of pipes and pipe
fragments found in Michoacán (Figure 321) and throughout West Mexico. Tobacco
(Nicotiana sp., called andumucua in Tarascan) appears in 16th-century historical
accounts in Michoacán (e.g. Relación de Cuiseo de la Laguna; Acuña 1987: 87-88),
which speak to its use in the area. Pollard (2016) affirms that ‘according to the
documentary record concerning the tobacco smoked in the pipes, tobacco has been
cultivated in the lowlands of the Pacific coast [of Michoacán] and the Balsas Basin… It
was used both for the production of smoke to communicate with their patron deity
Curicaueri… and as an herb to cure disease’ (p. 167).
In this section, I have discussed archaeological, ethnohistorical and ethnographic
information from several areas of Mesoamerica and beyond, in order to understand the
role played by scarce and strategic resources in the economy of the Tarascan Empire
and other states, such as the Aztecs, during the Protohistoric period. As we have seen,
there was a vast system of trade and tribute networks that were under the control of the
political structure of several Mesoamerican polities. This political-economic system
allowed these polities to thrive through a symbiotic relationship whereby each region
obtained what it lacked by interacting with others in nearby, or far-off, places. In this
way, relationships of co-dependence were established among contrasting, but
simultaneously complementary, ecological niches; for instance, the humid lowlands and
the semi-arid highlands. What remains to be explained are the mechanisms through
which such long-distance contacts were developed between the core area of the
Tarascan state in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin and the periphery of the empire.

Final Remarks
This chapter takes up the narrative about Postclassic West Mexico where Chapter VI
left off. Chapter VII concentrates on the Tarascan Empire in the Mesoamerican
ecumene. First, I discussed several aspects of the empire, such as the social structure
and political organization, noting that the Tarascans were the only culture in West
Mexico that achieved the level of complexity we associate with the state. In
Mesoamerican archaeology, the state as a political entity has been regarded as exclusive
to the central and southern regions of the ecumene. It was not until recent years that
 625

archaeologists began to investigate the Tarascans from the perspective of state-level

sociopolitical organization. One of the problems is that the concept of ‘state’ has
different meanings for different authors. Elman Service (1975) wrote a discussion about
ancient complex societies that may shed some light on the problem of defining states in
Mesoamerica. According to Service, when we study ‘primitive states and archaic
civilizations’, we are dealing fundamentally with the evolution of a bureaucracy with
theocratic authority, which is also responsible for creating and managing the economic
sphere of society. Even in the earliest and simplest examples, the political power
organized the economy, not the other way around. In many early complex societies (i.e.
states or their immediate precursors) there was a system of redistribution and
assignation, not an acquisitive system that required personal wealth to gain individual
power (p. xiii).
The discussion of urbanism at Tzintzuntzan, the capital of the Tarascan state in
this chapter, is based primarily on Pollard’s work over many years, both archaeological
fieldwork and ethnohistorical research. Although Pollard says that Tzintzuntzan was the
only site within the Tarascan region that is a truly urban center, there are other examples
of large-scale architecture and nucleated settlement, in both the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin
(e.g. Ihuatzio) and the Lake Zacapu Basin (Las Milpillas). What is needed is more
fieldwork to understand in a more complete and thorough way the features of the
Tarascan mode of urbanism, and how it differs from the rest of Mesoamerica. To this
end, the present discussion includes many examples from other cultures, primarily the
Aztecs. Another aspect of Tarascan culture discussed here is the political economy,
from marketplaces to long-distance trade and the tribute system.
In the second section of this chapter, I examined the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, which
is defined as a ‘key economic area’ based on the precepts first laid out by Phil Weigand,
who based his interpretations of the Teuchitlán tradition’s economic structure on Ch’ao-
Ting Chi’s work on Chinese prehistory. There, we saw that the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and
its environs had many key resources that were absent in the Tarascan core area around
Lake Pátzcuaro: obsidian, salt, metals (copper, tin, silver, gold), and lime, to name the
most important ones. In order to control the procurement of these resources, the
Tarascan Empire relied on the site of Huandacareo, which may have been the imperial
outpost in this region. Another reason for the Tarascan interests in this lake basin was
its location in the Lerma River region, an important resource area and a route for
communication to a wide region of West Mexico.
 626

The third and last section of this chapter dealt with the circulation of rare and
strategic resources (the oft-mentioned obsidian, salt, metals, turquoise, cacao, cotton,
feathers, tobacco, etcetera), in the context of the Tarascan political economy. In his
discussion of Mesoamerican economy, Hirth (2016) says that the economy of this
ecumene ‘is often described either in functional terms or from the perspective of its
political economy. The functional perspective views economic behavior in terms of the
production, distribution, and consumption of resources… This approach sorts economic
behavior into the key activities that individuals use to support themselves socially and to
reproduce themselves biologically’ (p. 20). In contrast to the above viewpoint, Hirth
mentions that
…the political economy perspective is more interested in how the production
and mobilization of resources contributed to the development and support of
complex social stratification. Scholars following this approach have focused on
the structure of tribute systems, the operation of market systems, and
organization of long-distance trade… Although this provides insight into the
creation and maintenance of specific political institutions, it does not provide a
comprehensive view of the organization and integration of economic behavior.
What is needed is an approach that incorporates functional components of the
economy with a holistic discussion of its scale, organizational complexity, and
segmental specialization and integration (p. 20).

On the topic of political economy, Hassig (1985) presents a discussion of the

Aztec Empire, which in his opinion is comparable to the Roman Empire, which was
founded upon ‘hegemonic expansionism. The [Romans] did not fortify and man the
frontier. Rather, beyond their nuclear zone of direct control (the territorial empire) lay
two zones of diplomatic control, an inner one composed of client states and an outer one
composed of client tribes’ (pp. 92-93). In a hegemonic empire, the client states ‘actively
supplied auxiliary troops and provided peripheral security… Roman troops were
deployed as a field army, available to meet threats rather than being tied to territorial
defense’ (p. 93). In that case, the empire ‘was one of political rather than territorial
control, buttressed by the threat rather than the presence of Roman military might, thus
achieving great economy of force’ (p. 93).
In a system like the Aztec Empire, ‘a standing army, garrisons, and fortifications
take on a different significance from that in a territorial empire… Aztec expansion was
 627

neither continuous nor smooth but punctuated by revolts and reconquest… However,
the Aztecs did engage in successful imperial expansion, and there was at least some
internal cohesion’ (pp. 93-94). The Aztec model of imperialism may help us understand
how the Tarascans managed to control their own empire.
The last section of Chapter VII analyzed the circulation of strategic resources
within the confines of the Tarascan Empire. For the sake of brevity, I will mention just
one resource: salt. Because salt was easily available in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, one
might think that the Tarascans in Tzintzuntzan would not be interested in obtaining this
product from the Pacific Ocean coast. However, the coastal area of Michoacán was
within the range of the long-distance porters (a distance of some 280 km via the modern
highway). As I explain elsewhere (Williams 2018), the salt from Lake Cuitzeo is
yellow-colored and rather coarse, while the salt from the coast is fine and white. Also,
each one had a particular chemical composition. Salt production in Michoacán was
geared to the needs of local communities, so in most cases small-scale production may
have been sufficient. However, there was also a brisk long-distance trade with the far-
away provinces of the Tarascan Empire. This should not be seen as a contradiction, for
a similar situation has been reported in other areas of Mesoamerica, such as the Yucatán
Peninsula. This seems to have been a matter of social classes and salt quality. The white
salt from the coast may have been reserved for the elites, while the salts of lesser quality
may have been produced on a local level to satisfy the needs of the common people
(McKinnon and Kepecs 1989:523). This idea is supported by the fact that not all
saltworks produced salt with the same characteristics (compare the information
presented in Williams 2015: Tables 4 and 6).
This chapter gives insight into the workings of the Tarascan Empire from the
perspective of archaeological and ethnohistorical data from Michoacán and other
regions and cultures of Mesoamerica, especially the Aztec Empire. Much remains to be
learned about this subject, and the discussion presented here should be regarded as a
first step, rather than the final word, about a fascinating aspect of West Mexican history
in the context of the Mesoamerican ecumene.
 628

Figure 251. Michoacán is noted for its rich and varied geographic-ecological contexts. The main natural
regions are as follows (top-to-bottom): Valleys and Wetlands, Central Sierra, Hot Lands, Southern Sierra
Madre, and Coastal Region (adapted from Guevara 1989: Figure on p. 11).

Figure 252. The different regions of the Michoacán landscape are sub-divided into nine areas (top-to-
bottom): Zamora Lowlands, Morelia Region, Purépecha Plateau, Thousand Peaks, Balconies, Balsas
Depression, Tepalcatepec Hot Lands, Southern Sierra Madre, and Playa Azul (adapted from González
1991: Figure on p. 14).
 629

Figure 253. Michoacán was given its name by the Aztecs. Meaning ‘land of fish’, this name is appropriate
because of the abundant aquatic environments found in this part of West Mexico, including lakes, rivers,
streams, springs, marshlands, wetlands, and many others (adapted from Guevara 1989: Figure on p. 24).

Figure 254. When a cacique (chieftain) died in one of the towns of the province, the cazonci or king gave
the new cacique a new golden lip plug, ear flares and bracelets (top left), in the presence of the petámuti,
or high priest (center, with spear). Meanwhile, the corpse of the dead ruler was disposed of in a funeral
pyre (bottom right) (after Alcalá 2008:204).
 630

Figure 255. Although the royal palace at Tzintzuntzan was destroyed after the Spanish conquest, there are
a few remains of buildings at the archaeological site that could pertain to the royal accommodations from
the Protohistoric period (photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 256. The petámuti, or high priest, was a member of the Tarascan elite. His paraphernalia included
a decorated gourd on his back and bronze tweezers with spirals on his chest, as well as a spear, according
to the Relación de Michoacán (after Boehm [editor] 1994: Figure on cover).
 631

Figure 257. Tzintzuntzan’s main plaza rests atop a huge man-made platform. The yácatas can be partially
seen atop the platform (photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 258. The yácata is a diagnostic architectural form used by the Tarascans during the Protohistoric
period, like this example from Tzintzuntzan (photo by Eduardo Williams).
 632

Figure 259. Ihuatzio is a major archaeological site in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, not far from Tzintzuntzan
(photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 260. Ihuatzio is located near the center of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. It was constructed around the
early 14th century. Tarascan architecture from the Protohistoric period can be seen there, like these twin
pyramids (photo by Eduardo Williams).
 633

Figure 261. The religious functions performed at Ihuatzio were concentrated in a large zone enclosed
within high walls (photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 262. Drawing of several Tarascan elite structures at Ihuatzio (left) and Tzintzuntzan (right), made
in 1937 by Aquiles Rivera (adapted from Marquina 1951: Plate 74).
 634

Figure 263. Some remains of pre-Hispanic elite structures can still be seen beneath the modern city of
Pátzcuaro, near Tzintzuntzan, the former Tarascan capital (photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 264. The extent of the area covered by the Tarascan Empire was quite vast, corresponding to the
modern state of Michoacán and adjoining areas of the states of Jalisco, Colima, Guanajuato and Guerrero
(adapted from Pollard 1993: Map 1.2).
 635

Figure 265. The Relación de Michoacán shows a scene in the market in Asajo, a Tarascan town near
Tzintzuntzan (adapted from Alcalá 2008: Figure on p. 93).

Figure 266. This modern Tarascan market at Pátzcuaro still follows some of the old traditional customs,
such as barter and payment in kind (photo by Teddy Williams).
 636

Figure 267. Reconstruction drawing of the yácatas at Tzintzuntzan, the main religious structures in the
Tarascan capital (adapted from Marquina 1951: Figure 74).

Figure 268. The sacred precinct of Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital, with the Great Temple at left. The
Aztec and Tarascan capital cities shared many features of the Mesoamerican urban tradition (after
Marquina 1951: Plate 55, detail).
 637

Figure 269. Archaeological surveys at Tzintzuntzan have identified public zones, such as plazas and
religious structures, and residential zones pertaining, respectively, to plebeians, the high elite, and the
lower elite. The dashed line indicates the limits of the survey area (adapted from Stawski 2011: Figure 3).

Figure 270. The Postclassic site of Las Milpillas in the malpaís (badlands) area of the Lake Zacapu Basin
was divided into quarters or barrios, each one with its own plaza, elite structure(s) and altar (adapted from
Michelet 1998: Figure 3).
 638

Figure 271. This domestic scene taken from the Aztec Codex Mendoza shows two women working in the
kitchen, with part of the household assemblage. Left center: metate (quern) and mano (handstone) used to
grind maize into dough; upper right: molcajete (grater bowl) used to grind tomato, chili and other
ingredients; middle right: comal (griddle) on top of three hearth stones; bottom right: pottery jar; and
bottom left: two tortillas (adapted from Ross 1984: Figure on p. 82).

Figure 272. This domestic scene from the Codex Mendoza shows a wedding where the couple appears
sitting on a tule mat or petate, with their garments tied together as a sign of union. Below are a basket
with tamales, a tripod bowl with meat (turkey?), and a jar and bowl with pulque (adapted from Ross
1984: Figure on p. 87).
 639

Figure 273. Map of Huandacareo, a major Tarascan site in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin. Huandacareo could
have been an outpost of the Tarascan Empire in this key economic area (adapted from Macías Goytia
1990: Figure 3).

Figure 274. Frontal view of Structure M-2, a pyramidal structure with a temple on top, excavated at
Huandacareo (after Macías Goytia 1990: Figure 14).
 640

Figure 275. Hypothetical reconstruction of Structure M-2 at Huandacareo, showing the upper section of
the temple building (adapted from Macías Goytia 1990: Figure on p. 50).

(a)
 641

(b) (c)

Figure 276. Diagnostic Tarascan pottery from Huandacareo: (a) tripod bowl; (b) pipes probably used for
smoking tobacco; (c) pipe fragments (after Macías Goytia 1990: Figure on cover; photos 38 and 47).

Figure 277. Tarascan elite pottery found at Copándaro, a Tarascan site in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin: tripod
bowls and jar with spout and handle. These items are virtually identical to the ceramic assemblage
excavated at Huandacareo (after Macías Goytia 1994: Figure 1).
 642

Figure 278. Needle-like objects of unknown use (18 cm long) made of bone, with elaborate carved
designs on one end (shown in detail here). They were part of a rich tomb offering whose occupant must
have enjoyed high social status (after Macías Goytia 1990: Figure 67).

Figure 279. Bronze tweezers with spiral decorations, like these two items found at Huandacareo, were
part of the adornments used by members of the Tarascan elite, such as the petámuti, or senior priest (after
Macías Goytia 1990: Figures 86 and 87).
 643

Figure 280. Bronze tools like this adze excavated at Huandacareo were probably used for tasks like
cutting wood or similar materials (after Macías Goytia 1990: Figure 90).

Figure 281. Excavations at Huandacareo revealed several elite burials like this tomb with Tarascan
ceramics deposited as offerings (adapted from Macías Goytia 1990: Figure 20).
 644

Figure 282. Human burials found in Huandacareo’s ‘sacrificial area’ in front of Mound Two (partial view,
adapted from Macías Goytia 1990: Figure 22).

Figure 283. Tomb 37, located in the East Plaza of Huandacareo, is unusual because of its composite
silhouette, similar to a shaft tomb. This tomb held a burial with rich offerings (pottery, seashells, obsidian
and turquoise) (adapted from Macías Goytia 1990: Figure 25).
 645

Figure 284. Fine obsidian was used to make many adornments reserved for the Tarascan elite, such as ear
flares (left), and lip plugs (right), like these examples with turquoise incrustations (Museo Michoacano,
Morelia).

Figure 285. Obsidian from sources in Ucareo and Zinapécuaro (Lake Cuitzeo Basin) was in much
demand in the Tarascan Empire because of its high quality and the location of the deposits near the
Tarascan capital (adapted from Healan 2004: Figure 2).
 646

Figure 286. Map of Lake Cuitzeo indicating the major salt-producing towns in the 16th century
(triangles), some archaeological sites (squares), and modern towns (circles) (map by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 287. A saltmaker working at Simirao, one of the principal salt-producing sites in the Lake Cuitzeo
Basin. He is collecting salty earth using the guancoche, a Tarascan sack made of ixtle (maguey fiber)
(photo by Eduardo Williams).
 647

Figure 288. An archaeological survey conducted by the author in the area of Araró, where many
abandoned saltworks are located, discovered the existence of several major pre-Hispanic sites (map by
Eduardo Williams).

(a) (b)
 648

(c)

Figure 289. The Tarascan Empire was able to conquer ever-larger territories in search of strategic
resources like copper (a); silver (b); tin (c) and gold, as well as objects made from these metals (adapted
from Hosler 1994b: Figures 2.1, 2.2 and 2.3).

Figure 290. Worked potsherds probably used as fishnet sinkers by pre-Hispanic fishers in the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin (photo by Eduardo Williams).
 649

Figure 291. This type of fishnet, of pre-Hispanic design, is still used by fishers at Lake Cuitzeo (photo by
Eduardo Williams).

Figure 292. After the tule stalks are cut in Lake Cuitzeo they are taken to shore by canoe. Tule is used to
make mats, sacks, baskets, and many other objects (photo by Eduardo Williams).
 650

Figure 293. The stalks of carrizo reeds are used to make baskets in many towns around Lake Cuitzeo.
Here, the artisan is using stone artifacts (hammer and anvil) similar to the pre-Hispanic tools known from
many areas of Mesoamerica (photo by Eduardo Williams).

Figure 294. Map of Tarascan territory with the known administrative units of the empire (note the Lake
Cuitzeo Basin and the site of Huandacareo in the upper right corner) (adapted from Pollard 2003a: Figure
13.2).
 651

Figure 295. An Aztec marketplace had many goods available to customers from a wide area of the
empire, including feathers, pottery, cloth, fine stones and grains (after Sahagún’s Florentine Codex;
adapted from Hirth 2016: Figure 3.2).

Figure 296. Common salt (sodium chloride) was a strategic resource in Mesoamerica. The Aztecs
obtained salt from the lakes in the Basin of Mexico, and it was sold by specialized vendors in the markets
(after Sahagún’s Florentine Codex; adapted from Hirth 2016: Figure 6.2).
 652

Figure 297. In the ‘solar system’ model of exchange, the central town, or cabecera, exchanges goods with
each subject town or sujeto, but there is no direct trade between the sujetos or with other marketing
systems (adapted from Hassig 1985: Figure 4.3).

Figure 298. Aztec noble (right) with two pochteca merchants and their trade goods: textiles, gold objects,
obsidian lip plugs and ear flares, among others. (According to Sahagún’s Florentine Codex; adapted from
Hirth 2013b: Figure 4.2).
 653

Figure 299. Two pochteca merchants meeting a lord on the road. Note the quetzal feathers at the lower
right. These feathers were among the most cherished trade goods in Mesoamerica (after Sahagún 1938,
adapted from Hirth and Pillsbury 2013b: image on cover).

Figure 300. Canoes were an important means of transportation in the Tarascan area. In this scene from
Lake Pátzcuaro (early 20th century), we see a long canoe loaded with rolled-up reed mats (petates). In the
background there are many smaller canoes used for fishing on the lake (photo courtesy of: Centro de
Cooperación Regional para la Educación de Adultos en América Latina y el Caribe, CREFAL, Pátzcuaro,
Michoacán).
 654

Figure 301. These Aztec porters, or tlamemes, carried heavy loads from one end to the other of the
empire’s vast territory (after Sahagún’s Florentine Codex; adapted from Hirth 2013b: Figure 4.1).

Figure 302. The Aztec tribute system was organized like a pyramid, with Tenochtitlan at the top, followed
by provincial centers, cabeceras (head towns) and sujetos (smaller subject communities) (adapted from
Hassig 1985: Figure 5.3).
 655

Figure 303. The Codex Mendoza, written after the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs, presents an inventory
of the items received as tribute by the Aztec Empire in the pre-Hispanic period (adapted from Ross
1984:61).

Figure 304. The Aztec macuáhuitl was a fearsome weapon: a wooden club with razor-sharp obsidian
blades on two sides (after Pastrana 2007: Figure 24).
 656

Figure 305. Aztec warriors in full regalia, with lances tipped with obsidian blades (adapted from Ross
1984: Figure on p. 105).

(a)
 657

(b)

Figure 306. Obsidian artifacts from Michoacán: (a) blades and a round object (perhaps a ‘blank’ for
making a lip-plug or ear-flare); and (b) an obsidian knife (Museo Michoacano, Morelia, Michoacán).

(a) (b)

Figure 307. Obsidian core of conical shape (a), and projectile-points (b), from the Lake Zacapu region
(adapted from Darras 2008: Figures 6 and 7).
 658

Figure 308. Map of the coast of Michoacán, showing salt-making sites (triangles), archaeological sites
(squares), and modern towns (circles) (map by Eduardo Williams).

Fig. 309. A saltmaker working at La Placita, on the coast of Michoacán. This was the main salt-producing
community in the region until the saltworks were abandoned around 2010 (photo by Eduardo Williams,
2000).
 659

Figure 310. Pre-Hispanic tweezers probably associated with the Tarascan culture. They are identical to
the ones carried by the petámuti or Tarascan priest on the chest (adapted from Hosler 1994b: Figure 5.6).

Figure 311. Aztec goldsmiths in their workshop (according to Sahagún’s Florentine Codex, adapted from
Hirth 2016: Figure 5.8).
 660

Figure 312. Gold bell found in offering 34 inside the Huitzilopochtli shrine of the Aztec Great Temple
(Mexico City). Height: 2.7 cm (after Bonifaz and Robles 1981: Figure 40).

Figure 313. Mixtec smiths were highly-skilled artisans, as shown by this ornament (two views) from La
Chinantilla, Oaxaca, representing a skull with two bells attached (adapted from Covarrubias 1957: Figure
137).
 661

Figure 314. Bronze bells manufactured with ‘wire’ technology like these have been found in Michoacán
and Jalisco, among other regions (adapted from Hosler 1994b: Figure 5.2).

Figure 315. Aztec ritual mask, made of wood covered with thousands of finely-crafted turquoise tesserae
(eyes and teeth made of shell) (copyright © Trustees of the British Museum; reproduced with permission).
 662

Figure 316. Greenstone mask with shell and obsidian incrustations, found in Chamber II of the Aztec
Great Temple (Mexico City). Provenience: Mezcala, Guerrero; height: 21.6 cm (after Bonifaz and Robles
1981: Figure 85).

Figure 317. Aztec necklace made of gold, mother-of-pearl and greenstone. The individual pieces are
figures of fish, frogs, snails, serpent heads and rattlesnake tails, as well as human heads. There is a total of
188 pieces. Found in Chamber II of the Aztec Great Temple (Mexico City). Diameter: 60 cm (after
Bonifaz and Robles 1981: Figure 51).
 663

Figure 318. Spouted vessel with handle, from an elite burial at Urichu, in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. This
kind of pot may have been used for drinking chocolate in Michoacán during the Protohistoric period
(courtesy of Helen Pollard).

Figure 319. Spindle whorls from Urichu, in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Large whorls were used to spin
maguey fiber (upper left), while small ones spun cotton fiber (courtesy of Helen Pollard).
 664

Figure 320. Reproduction of an Aztec chimalli, or ritual feather shield, manufactured with traditional
techniques (photograph courtesy of Ángeles Olay).

Figure 321. Pipe fragments from Urichu, in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Tobacco production is reported in
several historical sources from Michoacán, and pipes like these attest to the popularity of smoking in the
Postclassic period (courtesy of Helen Pollard).
 676

CHAPTER VIII
DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS

This book presents a discussion of the culture history of ancient West Mexico in the
Mesoamerican ecumene, from the time of the first human inhabitants until the last
cultural developments that took place before the Spanish invasion in the 16th century.
The overall narrative is played out within the context of the Mesoamerican ecumene;
that is, the universe of cultural and social interactions that coalesced into one of the few
pristine civilizations of the ancient world. Of paramount importance is the unique role
of West Mexico in shaping the Mesoamerican ecumene. Kirchhoff’s conceptualization
of Mesoamerica was a ‘snapshot’ of the cultural area as it was encountered by the
Spanish in the 16th century. Kirchhoff (1943) presents a ‘laundry list’ of cultural traits
that, in his view, characterized pre-Hispanic Mesoamerican civilization, apparently
adopting the approach of the early 20th-century German Kulturkreis school of thought,
which was concerned with defining civilizations and how they spread from one part of
the world to another 1 (e.g. Graebner 1924; Schmidt 1906).
In the 75 years since the publication of Kirchhoff’s original paper, few scholars
have attempted to redefine Mesoamerica following more processual lines of enquiry,
but one case of this is the ‘Mesoamerican world system’ approach, which is based on
political economy and the expansion of world empires from the 16th century onwards
(Wallerstein 1974; Blanton et al. 1981; Smith and Berdan 2003; Williams 2004b; etc.).
The world system approach was first applied to the Mediterranean basin (Braudel 1984)
with some success, but its subsequent application to pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica has
been tenuous at best (see discussion in McGuire 1996).
The ecumene concept, on the other hand, was first applied to West Mexico by
Williams (1994) and Weigand (2000), and once again later by Williams and Weigand
(2011) in an approach that went beyond the aforementioned ‘laundry list’ method.
Similarly, in the present book, I set out to present an image of West Mexico that goes
beyond the usual approach of normative archaeologists —that is, the study of potsherds,
pyramids and tombs that largely ignores ethnohistorical, ethnographic and
ethnoarchaeological data (see discussion in Williams 2017: Chapter II). By adopting the
1
Kulturkreis: German, meaning “culture circle” or “cultural field” (plural Kulturkreise), location from whence ideas and technology
subsequently diffused over large areas of the world. It was the central concept of an early 20th-century German school of
anthropology, Kulturkreislehre, which was closely related to the Diffusionist approach of British and American anthropology.
Source: Encyclopedia Britannica (digital version), accessed 17 July 2019. https://www.britannica.com/science/Kulturkreis
 677

ecumene approach, we seek to lay the foundations of a new perspective on West

Mexican archaeology and ancient history.
One of the central topics of interest in this book involves the main debates and
perspectives that different scholars have followed in West Mexican and Mesoamerican
studies over time, from the earliest works in the 19th century –with their penchant for
simplistic theories of cultural diffusion and the search for ‘exotic’ peoples and customs–
to the most recent contributions. This discussion allows the reader to understand how
different authors have shaped our current perceptions about the culture area we know as
Mesoamerica. In Mexico, an ‘official archaeology’ sponsored by the state has been
involved in activities such as the reconstruction of archaeological sites to promote
tourism and nationalism, but this largely ignores archaeology’s anthropological
perspectives. Archaeological symbols and pre-Hispanic monumental sites have been
used by the country’s ruling elite to legitimize its claim to political power and national
pride (Benavides 2001:352; see also Gándara 1992). This situation has been generated
in the context of a hegemonic political structure that uses the pre-Hispanic past as an
element of legitimization of political power and an instrument for constructing an
‘official national history’ in which the new leaders attempt to present themselves as the
natural heirs of the people and ‘homeland’ under their control (Benavides 2004). This
narrative has focused mostly on the Aztec Empire, relegating West Mexico to a
secondary position.
By the mid-20th century, American archaeology was experiencing a radical
transformation. According to Trigger (2006), during the 1960s and 1970s the
development of a functional-processual archaeology in Mesoamerica is of critical
importance for understanding the emergence of a ‘new archaeology’, one with much
more ambitious goals. Because of the inadequacies of culture-historical archaeology for
comprehending how prehistoric cultures operated and changed, archaeologists adopted
new perspectives to the study of prehistory that relied on systematic anthropological and
sociological approaches to research on human behavior (p. 314). Until recent years,
however, archaeological research in West Mexico has lagged behind the rest of
Mesoamerica in this regard.
Archaeologists in West Mexico were apparently slower to join in the quest for
new theoretical approaches to the study of the past. One problem was the static
definition of ‘cultures’ in archaeological discourse. With concepts such as ‘shaft-tomb
culture’, or ‘Jalisco culture’, ‘Nayarit culture’ and the like, archaeologists and art-
 678

historians were following a ‘normative’ approach that relied on such criteria as

figurines, tombs, pottery types and general artistic styles to define so-called
‘archaeological cultures’, but these were devoid of sociological content (Weigand
1995b). Meanwhile, anthropologists working in areas other than archaeology relied on a
more robust concept of culture. As stated by Marvin Harris (1980), the term ‘culture’
refers to ‘the learned patterns of behavior and thought characteristic of a societal group’
(p. 557). Harris’ viewpoints were generated in the context of general anthropology,
which he defined as ‘the study of humankind, of ancient and modern people and their
ways of living. Since this subject is very large and complex, different branches of
anthropology focus on different aspects or dimensions of the human experience. Some
anthropologists study… the learned traditions of human thought and behavior known as
cultures’ (p. 1).
According to Harris, anthropologists strive to understand ‘how ancient cultures
evolved and diversified and how and why modern cultures change or stay the same…
the different perspectives of anthropology are usually represented by four fields of
study: cultural anthropology… archaeology, anthropological linguistics, and physical
anthropology’ (p. 1). Harris holds that ‘when anthropologists speak of a human culture,
they usually mean the total socially acquired life-style of a group of people including
patterned, repetitive ways of thinking, feeling, and acting’ (p. 106). In his definition of
culture as ‘patterns of… behavior… as well as patterns of thought and feeling’, Harris is
following the ideas of 19th- century British anthropologist Edward B. Tylor (1832-
1917), who wrote that ‘culture… is the complex whole which includes knowledge,
belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man
[sic] as member of society’ (Tylor 1871, cited by Harris 1980:106). Finally, Harris
defines the term ‘society’ as ‘a group of people who share a common habitat and who
are dependent on each other for their survival and well-being’ (p. 106).
Watson (1995), meanwhile, attempted to evaluate the extent to which
archaeology had fulfilled the goals of anthropology in the study of human culture.
Watson wrote that at the turn of the 20th century the term ‘culture’ was first applied by
archaeologists to groups of sites containing distinct artifact assemblages. ‘From the
perspective of archaeologists, a “culture” was “mainly a geographical entity… because
so little was known about chronology”’ (p. 684). According to Watson, most
archaeologists working in the New World during the 1930s and 1940s paid little
attention to human behavior, artifact and site function, or ecology. There was little if
 679

any interest in culture per se, though many of the classificatory units were implicitly
regarded as cultural units, possibly reflecting ancient human groups such as ‘tribes’.
Archaeological cultures were understood as conservative entities that changed slowly in
response to outside influences: diffusion of objects and ideas or migration of human
groups (p. 684). The ideas in vogue in archaeological research in West Mexico until the
early 1980s are very much in line with the attitudes and approaches delineated by
Watson above, as we saw in Chapter II.
In short, we as archaeologists must reconcile ourselves to the fact that the full
spectrum of ancient culture is beyond our grasp, so we have to rely on ethnohistory and
ethnographic analogy in order to achieve a meaningful reconstruction of ancient cultural
and social patterns as reflected in material culture and its archaeological context(s)
(Williams 2017: Chapter II).
We have very little information from West Mexico on the area’s first
inhabitants, known as Paleoindians. It is generally thought that they lived a life
dominated by the pursuit of food; relying on hunting, fishing and gathering. Eventually,
the big game species of the Pleistocene became extinct, and during the Holocene period
(some 12,000 years ago) humans adapted to new environmental conditions. This new
way of life led to a transitional period called the Archaic. The establishment of a
sedentary way of life that marked the end of this period was a long process (from ca.
1800 BC to as late as ca. 800-900 BC in some areas).
In Chapter III we saw several examples of Archaic cultural development in the
Basin of Mexico (Zohapilco), southern Mesoamerica (Chantuto, Chiapas), and West
Mexico (Marismas Nacionales on the coast of Nayarit). Subsistence strategies in the
Archaic period developed into a way of life that was adapted to an aquatic environment.
Ethnographic information has been used to reconstruct this aquatic lifeway in several
areas of West Mexico and elsewhere in the Mesoamerican ecumene. One ethnographic
analogue that has been useful for interpreting material culture in aquatic settings is that
of the Seri Indians of Sonora, northern Mexico, but there are more ethnographic, as well
as archaeological, examples of life in aquatic settings that may shed light on the
environment and culture of the Archaic-period people in West Mexico.
In order to understand the challenges faced by people living in aquatic
environments, and to know their ways of coping with their ecological setting –including
the material culture– we can turn to ethnographic and ethnohistorical data. Catherine
Fowler (1980) presents ethnographic data on subsistence and settlement systems
 680

pertaining to lake- and marsh-based Northern Paiute groups in the Great Basin (western
Nevada), including the Pyramid Lake and Walker River cultures. The ethnographic
sources studied by Fowler, dating from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, discuss
the native lifeway around Carson Lake, Pyramid Lake, and other wetland areas in the
Great Basin. Fowler focused on the native diet, as reported in the ethnographic
accounts. Thanks to this information, we know that ‘on the lower Carson… at least 36
species of waterfowl and wading birds were taken for food, as were eggs for most and
occasionally young… In addition, at least 12 species of marsh/mud flat plants provided
food resources… as did 30 lower valley plant species… and 21 from the uplands…
thirty-one species is the minimum food count for mammals, along with 14 land birds
and… their eggs’ (p. 18). Among the species exploited there were eight insects and four
fishes identified with native names. These figures are only for those products linked
directly to subsistence, and do not count sources of medicines, manufactures, and other
products that were taken from the marsh areas.
This marsh habitat was apparently not sufficiently abundant to allow people to
ignore plants and mammals or resources in the nearby valleys and uplands. However,
among the unique aspects of the lower Carson ‘were the sheer numbers and variety of
waterfowl and water plants, and the proximity… of late-fall ripening seeds… These…
extended the normal season for seed harvesting well into December… The opportunity
for resource exploitation was certainly there, even if we cannot assess if the full
potential of the region was ever realized’ (p. 18).
At Stillwater there were extensive fisheries, which stress the importance of
fishing. This activity was a year-round pursuit ‘for men … while the women… were
gathering summer seeds from temporary camps… or collecting pine nuts… the men
continued to go back and forth from their camps to the river to fish’ (p. 18).
According to the ethnographic data studied by Fowler, ‘when people were camped in
the Stillwater Range taking pine nuts, the men went back to the marshes periodically for
fresh supplies of waterfowl’ (p. 20).
Archaeological fieldwork, together with analyses of the extant ethnohistorical
data, allowed Mountjoy to paint a plausible panorama of the cultural adaptation of early
human groups to the coastal environments of West Mexico. Mountjoy (1995) wrote that
‘whether or not something is a resource depends on the inclination or ability of a society
or culture to exploit or utilize it. The mere availability of a material in an area only
makes it a potential resource. It is the archaeologist’s task to determine that a given
 681

material served as a resource during any particular phase of pre-Hispanic development

in a given area’ (p. 61). Some critical items ‘such as salt and obsidian may be available
or even common locally, but are sought from a distant source solely because they are of
higher quality… than local materials’ (p. 63).
According to Mountjoy, ‘the coast of West Mexico… had many potential
resources that could have been, or are known from early documents to have actually
been, important for pre-Hispanic cultural development there. These include… fish, fine
woods, fertile alluvial soils and the crops grown thereon, colored feathers and animal
pelts’ (p. 63). Mountjoy mentions four coastal resources for which there is some direct
archaeological evidence of their exploitation: salt, mollusks, cotton and exotic stone.
What follows is a brief discussion of each of these products and activities on the West
Mexican coast.
(1) Salt production. In the early Colonial period, ‘24 major salt extraction areas were
recorded along the coast of West Mexico… that may have been exploited in pre-
Hispanic times… There are 16th century records of inland natives traveling to the coast
to obtain salt… and of tax payments made to Colonial administrators in large quantities
of salt’. The few extant historical documents ‘indicate that salt was an important and
widespread coastal resource in the 16th century as well as later in the Colonial period.
Some locations produced much more salt than others, and salt from certain locations
appears to have been sought because of its perceived higher quality’ (p. 64). Some of
this salt from the coast was used for local consumption, while some was distributed to
nearby settlements in the local area, and the rest was exported inland to distant
destinations.
(2) Exploitation of mollusk species. Mountjoy tells us that ‘mollusks are a potential
resource similar to salt in that they are found widespread along the coast, and they vary
in abundance and quality of kind according to specific location. Both salt and mollusks
may be important components of the diet, may be used as a medium of exchange, and
may have importance both as exports and for local use’ (p. 68). Not just mollusk meat,
but also the shells, may have been a strategic resource: ‘The earliest evidence of
mollusk shell being used as raw material to produce jewelry or other items comes from
excavations in Middle Preclassic… deposits at San Blas, Nayarit, where the intentional
modification of shell is limited to a few fragments of bracelets’ (p. 72).
(3) Cotton cultivation. Mountjoy discusses ethnohistoric information that indicates
‘widespread growing and weaving of cotton by indigenous peoples on [the] coastal
 682

plain of West Mexico’. Several towns from coastal Guerrero and Michoacán were
‘required in 1518 to send Moctezuma II a yearly tribute of 800 bales of raw cotton,
3,200 colored cotton cloths and 4,800 large white cotton cloths…Along the coast of
Colima cotton was probably the most important negotiable crop, and… tribute item’ (p.
77).
(4) The last resource discussed by Mountjoy is exotic stone: ‘The use of exotic stone on
the West Mexican coast dates back at least to the Late Preclassic, when it includes high-
quality transparent natural quartz crystals… ornaments of quartz and crisacola, and
prismatic blades of red obsidian’. During the Classic period ‘there is some continued
use of red obsidian, some clear green obsidian… and fine quality rhyolite. By the
Postclassic, exotic stone includes high quality clear brown or clear gray obsidian…
onyx and alabaster… steatite… jade… and turquoise’ (p. 80).
One of the four strategic resources mentioned above deserves special mention.
Of all the commodities available to Mesoamerican populations from the earliest times
up until the Spanish Conquest, salt from the sea coasts was a unique item of trade and
cuisine, but also a source of wealth for many a coastal community. The salt trade may
have begun during the Archaic period and continued until the end of the pre-Hispanic
sequence. Grave (2019) has written that the coastal swamps of Escuinapa, Sinaloa (ca.
300 km southeast of Culiacán, the state capital), were among the main producers of salt
in pre-Hispanic and Colonial times in this part of northwest Mexico. During the summer
months, salt procurement was a very important activity. Salt exploitation commenced in
this area early in the pre-Hispanic period, with two periods of intensification, one
between AD 500 and 750, and another from AD 900 until the arrival of the Spaniards in
1530-1531. Salt-making continued as an important activity during the Colonial and
modern periods, ending in the 1960s (p. 53).
Among the archaeological sites studied by Grave in this area of the Pacific coast
is El Calón, described as ‘a huge mound or truncated cone over 80 m in diameter and
over 20 m high, made entirely of sea shells… more than 20 million shells were used in
its construction’ (p. 53). As we saw in Chapter III, according to Foster and Scott
(2017a) El Calón’s shell ‘pyramid’ was erected around 2400-2200 BC, which would
make this one of the earliest man-made features in Mesoamerica, though Grave (2019)
suggests a more recent date of AD 500-750 (p. 54).
Grave mentions the existence of 55 salt-making sites in the general area under
discussion, though only four of them can be ascribed to pre-Hispanic times. One of
 683

these sites is Panzacola, which consists of seven mounds made of soil extracted from
the marsh. It is likely that this site, in addition to its role in salt procurement, also
provided local inhabitants with a setting for annual feasts linked to various seasonal
activities, such as shrimp-fishing, gathering mollusks and hunting water fowl (p. 55).
Ethnohistorical accounts tell us about the resources available to the local population in
the mid-16th century: ‘There is plenty of fish, oysters, shrimp, salt and cotton, of all
these things the locals have farms’ (p. 55). The archaeological, ethnographic and
ethnohistorical information discussed above is very useful for cultural reconstruction,
setting out from the Archaic period and moving forward.
One of the most important conclusions to which we arrived in this book is that
West Mexico did indeed participate in the social and cultural life of the Mesoamerican
ecumene from the Formative period. This assumption is based on abundant evidence of
interaction, for instance the pottery styles –vessels and figurines– from the west that
appear in the Basin of Mexico, and vice versa. Another issue addressed here has to do
with the level of social complexity attained by the cultures of West Mexico before the
Postclassic period.
López and Ramos (1994) wrote about a region of valleys and lake basins settled
amidst the mountains surrounding the Tequila Volcano in Jalisco. There is a series of
archaeological sites in this region that share in the cultural phenomenon known as the
Teuchitlán tradition. We saw in Chapter IV that this archaeological tradition originated
in the Formative period and persisted well into the Early Classic period (ca. 200 BC-AD
300). Its main characteristic is a peculiar architectonic pattern of circular buildings
around a central altar or mound. Many of those circular buildings are associated with a
funerary cult centered on elaborate shaft tombs that are found over a wide swath of
West Mexico (Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit). The term ‘shaft tomb culture’ has long
been in use, but Pickering and Smallwood-Roberts (2016) recently stated that ‘the
common and misleading term, Shaft Tomb Culture, places too much emphasis on the
dead and virtually ignores the living. Even the term “culture” ignores the social and
political differences among peoples who only shared some religious beliefs about the
treatment of the dead’ (p. 18).
According to López and Ramos (1994), the Huitzilapa shaft tomb was the first
burial of its kind to be found in pristine condition in West Mexico, and also the first
elite tomb systematically studied by archaeologists in this part of Mesoamerica. López
and Ramos report that the bodies and offerings inside the tomb were laid down
 684

following a complex ritual pattern. The tomb’s occupants were identified as a high-
ranking male personage and five other people, who may have been sacrificed to
accompany their lord to the underworld. In the north chamber, where the main tomb
occupant was laid to rest, excavators found 75 fine ceramic vessels of many different
shapes, most of them with food remains and other organic matter inside. The tomb’s
senior occupant was an adult male with rich attire made of shell beads covering the
whole skeleton. On top of this individual were found eleven conch shells decorated with
pseudo-cloisonné technique. Other elite items or materials found in this tomb chamber
consisted of jade atlatl grips and a scepter or staff made of that same green stone. López
and Ramos wrote that, considering the elaborate nature of the funerary context, the
lavish offerings, the evidently high status of the tomb’s occupants, and the construction
of a building on the ground above the tomb that may have functioned as a temple or
sacred place, the Huitzilapa tomb pertains to a complex and highly-elaborate custom of
ancestor worship; a trait that was widely-shared in other regions of Mesoamerica during
the Formative and Classic periods (p. 61).
Before the Huitzilapa tomb was excavated by archaeologists, hundreds if not
thousands of shaft tombs were ransacked by looters who sold their contents in the
illegal antiquities market. The looting of archaeological sites is, unfortunately, a
recurrent theme in West Mexican archaeology and in Mesoamerica as a whole. As
Pickering and Smallwood-Roberts (2016) stated, ‘the looting of objects from
archaeological sites is a worldwide problem that destroys the past, forever. A few
objects may be saved, but entire sites are ruined in the process. Looting dishonors
people of the past and keeps others from appreciating their achievements’ (p. 21).
Objects taken out of their context ‘may inspire admiration and appreciation, but they
can never reveal the full stories of the people who made and used the artifacts… Today,
most countries understand that their pasts are irreplaceable resources —like rare species.
Once destroyed, the past can never be recovered’ (p. 21).
Because the Huitzilapa tomb was found in pristine condition, and both the tomb
and the site above ground were studied by archaeologists, we are able to say something
about the people who built such a lavish abode for the mortal remains of a few exalted
members of their community. One of the many questions that need to be answered
concerns the level of sociopolitical complexity of the ancient inhabitants of Huitzilapa
and other West Mexican communities of Classic and Postclassic times. In order to shed
some light on this issue, we turn to the writings of Robert Carneiro (1981), who
 685

discussed chiefdoms in the ancient world. Carneiro wrote that ‘the most significant
factor about chiefdoms… is that they represent the first transcending of local autonomy
in human history. With chiefdoms, multi-community political units emerged for the first
time… no permanent aggregation of communities into larger political units seems to
have occurred prior to the Neolithic. It was only during the last 7,500 years that the first
steps were taken in supra-village aggregation’ (p. 37).
Sanders (1992) offers a distinct viewpoint on chiefdoms, but one that is of great
value for the present discussion. He had the following to say about pre-Hispanic
chiefdoms and how they differed from states in Mesoamerica:
I would define chiefdoms as political systems in which political statuses are
based solely or predominantly on kinship. States could be defined not only as
systems where the exercise of force is legitimized… but (considering the fact
that states probably derived from chiefdoms, in structural terms) as political
systems in which specialized institutions of power, separate from kin-rank-based
structures, have evolved; in the early stages of state formation, these occur side
by side with the older structure (p. 279).

In discussing the characterization of chiefdoms, Carneiro says that ‘a chiefdom

is an autonomous political unit comprising a number of villages or communities under
the permanent control of a paramount chief… The definition of a chiefdom… is
structural. It focuses on territorial and political forms. It specifies that in a chiefdom a
number of villages, forming a lower level of organization, have been united into a
higher level, governed by a superior chief’ (p. 45).
Several types of chiefdoms are known in the anthropological literature, and ‘a
great deal of political evolution is encompassed between autonomous villages (or tribes)
and the state. It is thus not enough to say that this evolutionary span was filled by
“chiefdoms”, and let it go at that. Chiefdoms varied greatly among themselves in size,
strength, wealth, complexity, and other characteristics’ (p. 46).
Carneiro presents a typology of chiefdoms that ‘focuses on the levels of
development and social complexity. We can divide chiefdoms ‘into two types, simple
and complex… But two levels do not do justice to the range of evolution found among
chiefdoms. I would propose a three-level typology of chiefdoms: minimal, typical, and
maximal… A maximal chiefdom is one that has become large and complex enough to
approach the threshold of the state’ (p. 47). The cultures of Hawaii and Tahiti during
 686

pre-European times may be ‘the best-known examples of maximal chiefdoms… because

they were approaching the level of states’ (p. 48).
Carneiro was concerned with the archaeological identification of chiefdoms, and
states that ‘the archaeological period that in American archaeology is termed
“Formative” was, in many parts of the world, a period of explosive development of
chiefdoms. In some areas this development went on to produce states, whereas in others
it stopped at chiefdoms’ (p. 52). One feature that has been proposed as diagnostic of
chiefdoms ‘is the presence of monumental architecture… architectural remains large or
elaborate enough to have required the organized labor of more people than would have
lived in just a single village’ (p. 53).
A second way in which the existence of ancient chiefdoms may be inferred by
the archaeologist ‘is through the identification of ceremonial centers. The fact that these
centers were fewer in number than the villages they ostensibly served would suggest
that these villages were politically unified’ (p. 53). According to Carneiro, ‘a third way
of inferring the existence of chiefdoms archaeologically is by finding differentiated
burials in which the differences in the quantity and quality of the grave goods points to
a categorical distinction in status among a few individuals, presumably chiefs, and the
general populace’ (p. 53).
Certainly, the people responsible for the Huitzilapa site and its tomb belonged to
a full-blown ‘maximal chiefdom’, a characterization that can be extended to the
Teuchitlán tradition as a whole, because of the following traits: (1) large-scale
architecture with site planning and monumental features; (2) elaborate tombs reserved
for the members of an elite; (3) exotic goods such as precious stones (jade) and shells
included in the tomb offerings; and (4) a complex iconography in the items found inside
the tomb, for example the ceramic figurines, which may indicate elaborate funerary
rituals pertaining to a hierarchical worldview or cosmovision (see discussion in Ramos
and López 1995; López and Ramos 1998; López 2004).
The main lesson to be learned from the discussion of West Mexico during the
Classic period in Chapter V is that this broad region was not an isolated or marginal
cultural sub-area of the Mesoamerican ecumene. In fact, Teotihuacan and other major
cultures depended on trade and exchange throughout Mesoamerica during the Classic
period, and West Mexico was an active participant in this process. We see throughout
this book that the vast expanses of western Mesoamerica were blessed with an
abundance and variety of natural resources, which were the basis for a thriving
 687

economy, based in part on a productive aquatic lifeway, thanks to the abundant wetland
and lake areas that existed throughout the region. Another role played by West Mexico
was that of a cultural and economic link between central and southern Mesoamerica and
the numerous peoples who lived in the northern borders of the ecumene, reaching into
the present-day U.S. Southwest.
This new vision of West Mexican peoples as major players on the
Mesoamerican stage has emerged only slowly, certainly not helped by problems like the
widespread looting of archaeological sites, the destruction of sites during infrastructure
works and urban expansion, and the general indifference of the authorities –including to
some extent the Mexican archaeological establishment– toward West Mexico’s
archaeological and historical heritage. To make matters worse, few members of the
public make any effort to understand or relate to the ancient past. The lack of systematic
archaeological research in most of West Mexico has perpetuated an illusion of
unchanging cultures, in which it is not easy to distinguish between Formative and
Classic developments. This is in stark contrast to the rest of Mesoamerica, where the
Classic period, as its name implies, in many cases saw the greatest cultural and artistic
achievements.
One area in which West Mexico became increasingly integrated into the greater
Mesoamerican ecumene was in the long-distance trade of turquoise and other precious
stones that were exported from the northern frontier and transported in a southward
direction. Weigand and Harbottle (1992) wrote the following about the all-important
procurement and commerce of green stones in antiquity: ‘Mineral procurement is an
enduring theme in both northwestern Mexico and the southwestern United States.
Mining and mining settlements have given this great area much of its distinctive
historical and cultural character’ (p. 159). Weigand and Harbottle found that ‘much of
what we regard as Colonial period mining activity appears to have had deeper roots…
mineral exploitation and procurement was in fact one of the organizing postulates in the
formation of the ancient Mesoamerican trade structure and… this activity was
important, in select areas, at many or all levels of economic organization’ (p. 159).
Within this context of early mineral procurement, these authors examined turquoise and
its unique role in the Mesoamerican trade structure, writing that while turquoise is
found in tombs in Western Mexico dating from the Formative period, its general and
systematic use really began in the Classic period. Weigand and Harbottle report that ‘the
best-attested finds are from the Chalchihuites [Zacatecas] area… Huejuquilla el Alto
 688

[on the Jalisco-Zacatecas border]… and the Mezcala region of Guerrero… In all three
of these areas, accomplished micro-mosaics of turquoise have been discovered… the
Mezcala finds are firmly dated between AD 400 and 600’ (p. 160).
Weigand and Harbottle use the term ‘chemical turquoise’ to differentiate the
mineral in question (i.e. copper phosphate) from many other blue and green minerals
that have other compositions, while the geographical area they call ‘northwest’ includes
the present US Southwest. In their discussion of green stone artifacts found at Classic-
period Teotihuacan, Melgar and Solís (2018) state the following: ‘The use of different
green stones and minerals that were worked with the same techniques and tools as
jadeite indicates that for pre-Hispanic artisans, color was the foremost attribute to regard
most green stones as a single precious material, notwithstanding their origin or the
geological context where they had been found’ (p. 661).
Karl Taube (2012) made a study of turquoise symbolism in which he discovered
that although ‘both turquoise and jade may have been linguistically linked in Nahuatl,
the symbolic significance of turquoise was quite distinct from that of jade, a stone
widely identified with water and maize in ancient Mesoamerica. In contrast, turquoise
was very much a “sky stone” and related closely to the sun, fire and meteors’ (p. 117).
One way in which the Aztecs conceived the attributes of turquoise was as a
personification of the ‘god of fire, Xiuhtecuhtli, meaning “turquoise lord”, there was
also Xiuhcoatl, the turquoise fire serpent’ (p. 117).
Taube tells us that ‘a number of symbolically important elements later ascribed
to turquoise were already present in the Classic period’ although ‘it is not until the Early
Postclassic… that turquoise becomes widely present in Mesoamerica’. In Toltec
iconography, for instance, ‘there is elaborate imagery pertaining to turquoise ornaments
and their attendant symbolism, much of which can be found with the later Aztec’. Taube
suggests ‘that many aspects of the “cult of turquoise”, including particular costume
regalia, originated with the Early Postclassic Toltec… it is likely that the Aztec
consciously evoked the more ancient Toltec with the stone, both being related to
warriors, kingship and the revered ancestral past’ (p. 117).
One could speculate that the traders who brought the turquoises from the far
north to central and southern Mesoamerica also had a role in spreading many of the
traditions and religious beliefs that were linked with green stones in the Mesoamerican
mind. In this way, the worldview or cosmovision of the West Mexicans began to
intermix with the wider ecumene; a process discussed in detail in Chapter VI.
 689

We can assume that, in addition to goods and commodities, people also travelled
along the trade routes from one place to another within the ecumene. One consequence
of this process was the emergence of multi-ethnic cities and towns. The barrios with
people from the Gulf coast and the Maya area in Teotihuacan are a case in point, and we
know that many residents from Michoacán lived in that great city as well. According to
Gómez Chávez (2017), recent studies of Teotihuacan skeletons (including bone and
teeth samples of animal and human origin) ‘have revealed the existence of complex
cultural practices in the ancient city, as well as many aspects of social behavior’ (p.
107). These osteo-archaeological studies have used stable-oxygen and strontium
isotopes to show ‘an individual’s geographic origin, the place of their birth and the
mobility patterns throughout their life. These data have confirmed the foreign origins of
various human groups and have allowed archaeologists to infer their comings and
goings over wide territories’ (p. 107).
Paleo-osteological studies like the ones mentioned above have reconstructed the
genetic makeup of distinct groups of people during the early phases of Teotihuacan. In
other words, they have indicated the ethnic profile of various communities –including
people from Michoacán– to produce a picture of a city with great ethnic and cultural
diversity (p. 107). According to Gómez Chávez (2017), ‘the families of migrants living
in foreign barrios would always have maintained ties with their communities of origin.
With the collapse of Teotihuacan, they returned to the places their ancestors had left
centuries earlier. The new migrants, who abandoned their homes in Teotihuacan, took
with them the prestige of having lived in the City of the Gods’ (p. 107). This process
would represent the ‘human face’ of the oft-mentioned ‘Teotihuacan influence’ in many
areas of the ecumene, such as Michoacán and the Lerma River Basin, among others.
Moving forward in time, we see that during the Postclassic period Mesoamerica
underwent a series of fundamental changes. After the demise of Teotihuacan as a world
power in the 6th century, the whole ecumene was restructured and new communication
routes were established, linking the central and southern areas of the ecumene with
West Mexico and the northern frontier, encompassing part of the US Southwest.
Kelley (2002) wrote that ‘archaeologists generally accepted without serious
questioning the existence of a “Toltec” or “Tula-Mazapan” component, or period, in the
archaeological history of western and northwestern Mesoamerica’ (p. 99). Kelley
described ‘a chain of related archaeological sites distributed along a continuing major
route of travel extending from the lower Lerma River and along the south side of Lake
 690

Chapala, and from there northwestward to coastal Nayarit and as far north as Guasave
in northern Sinaloa’ (p. 99).
Kelley thought that ‘this incredibly long chain of related sites clearly represents
a major trade route, perhaps better described as an “interaction channel”. It has been
repeatedly identified as “Toltec” in affiliation, but Ekholm, who first recognized it,
correctly identified its Guasave component as Mixteca-Puebla, rather than Tula-
Mazapan’ (p. 101). Eventually, the Tarascans ‘apparently took over the northwestern
trade route and thereafter also developed a monopoly on West Coast metallurgy, and the
development of such a strong entity in the west effectively barred central Mesoamerica
from further participation in the northwestern trade network’ (p. 116).
Weigand (2008) studied the cultural implications of mining, trade and warfare in
the northern frontier. According to Weigand, ‘archaeologists and historians have always
found it difficult to define with any precision the northern frontier of the ancient
Mesoamerican ecumene. The most common definitions are based on geographical
criteria or lists of cultural traits that were presumed to have been shared throughout that
huge region… these approaches have not offered much social depth to our
understanding of the ancient northern frontier’ (p. 11). Weigand holds that we usually
forget two very important points: ‘First, the aridity of this area is today far greater than
it was in the pre-Hispanic past. The introduction of a pastoral economy throughout the
region, beginning in the mid-sixteenth century, combined with massive deforestation for
the silver mining complexes, radically altered the region’s overall environment’ (p. 11).
The new land-use activities introduced by the Spaniards ‘converted semiarid areas into
arid ones, forested zones into semiarid steppes, dried up lakes and swamps, and
dramatically reduced the quantity of water carried in the surviving streams and rivers
and the character of the run-off’ (p. 11). Weigand’s second point stresses the fact that
‘many of the now dry or seasonal waterways in the north had been permanent courses,
and included some of the largest rivers of the ancient Mesoamerican world. Few of
these survive. The river valleys were then areas of high demographic concentrations,
along which there were canals and extended settlements’ (p. 11). Weigand mentions
several examples of these basically extinct fluvial systems: ‘The coastal rivers of
Sinaloa and Sonora, the Salt-Gila valleys of Arizona, the Conchos and Santa María in
Chihuahua, among others’ (p. 11).
The pre-Conquest ecological environment described by Weigand before the
onset of arid conditions favored the expansion of Mesoamerican cultures toward the ill-
 691

defined northern frontier region. Carroll Riley is another author who has written about
this extensive region in the pre-Hispanic period. Riley (2005) suggested the name
‘Aztlan’ as a general term to refer to the Greater Southwest, thinking that this term
‘would be especially apt for that period when Mexican –then Spanish– influences
remade vast areas of [the] north-Mexican frontier’ (p. 7). Riley presents a map of
Aztlan, an area that in his view encompassed northern Sonora, Chihuahua and parts of
Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California and Baja California (2005: Figure 2.1).
According to Riley, beginning about AD 1200-1300, the U.S. Southwest ‘was
indeed becoming Aztlan. At that time a sea change occurred in this great region. A
wave of new religious, ceremonial, and political ideas, as well as new artistic styles and
new technology, swept up from Mexico… There had been Mexican influences in the
Southwest for a very long time, beginning perhaps with the introduction of horticulture
three to four thousand years ago’ (p. 7). Early in the Christian era, or even before, there
was a brisk ‘trade in seashell, primarily from the Gulf of California’, while the
Hohokam in southern Arizona ‘had certain Mesoamerican traits, ceremonial platforms,
and ball courts by the early first millennium AD. Casas Grandes [Chihuahua] and its
great central town, Paquimé, perhaps the most intensely Mesoamericanized culture of
the Greater Southwest, actually saw a scatter of southern influences in the latter part of
the Viejo period (pre-AD 1200)’ (p. 8).
Riley argues that during ‘the later Viejo period there was a slow introduction of
Mesoamerican traits, a trickle that suddenly became a torrent around AD 1200. It was in
part through Casas Grandes that the full panoply of the Aztlan complex reached the
upper Southwest… However… the major lines of contact gradually shifted westward,
and from at least the 15th century on, major contacts between Mesoamerica and the
Southwest were along the west coast of Mexico’ (p. 8).
During the 14th century, a web of trade networks extended out from
Mesoamerica to link all areas of the Southwest. Paquimé was likely involved in the
earlier trade, but ‘even before the collapse of Paquimé, more and more of the trade was
being pumped out the west coast through Sinaloa and northern Sonora. In the latter area
small vigorous trading-oriented polities’ that Riley called statelets, ‘were in the process
of forming. By the time the Spaniards arrived, this route had become the major trade
artery’ (p. 13).
Following Riley’s culture-historical reconstruction, we learn that ‘the initial
wave that produced this northwestern frontier occurred at the end of Classic times (AD
 692

500 to 700), with a second one about three or four centuries before the arrival of the
Spaniards. The northwestern extension of Mesoamerica crept up the Pacific coast and
along the high plateau and basin country into the north and west of Mexico’ (p. 15).
This Mesoamerican cultural influence ‘eventually inundated present-day northwest
Mexico and southwestern United States, turning them into Aztlan’ (p. 15).
Stahle et al. (2011) made a reconstruction of climatic patterns in Mesoamerica
during the past millennium that account for the ecological changes in the northern
frontier. They documented major drought conditions at the end of the Classic period
(ca. AD 810-860), extending into the Early Postclassic (ca. AD 1200). These authors
suggest that the extreme dry conditions may have contributed to the collapse of Early
Postclassic centers such as Tula. In Stahle et al’s hypothetical reconstruction of events,
the 12th century drought was keenly felt in the north regions of the ecumene and may
have been implicated in the abandonment of Tula and the resurgence of the Chichimecs.
Increased desertification may have been a factor in the southward migration of peoples
from the northern steppes to the core areas of Mesoamerica, reversing a trend that had
seen the colonization of the northern frontier by Mesoamerican groups that established
colonies in today’s semi-desert northern landscapes during more propitious periods of
steady rainfall.
These large-scale movements of people can be characterized as a ‘diaspora’ that
had momentous consequences for Mesoamerican culture history. Jemima Pierre (2013)
defined diaspora as ‘a term used to describe the mass, often involuntary, dispersal of a
population from a center (or homeland) to multiple areas, and the creation of
communities and identities based on the histories and consequences of dispersal’ (p.
11). The word ‘diaspora’ has been used in the anthropological disciplines ‘to cover a
wide range of collectivities and experiences… to represent diverse movements and
dislocations, and myriad forms of difference, heterogeneity, and, in particular,
hybridity’. In the case of ‘archaeology, linguistic anthropology, sociocultural
anthropology, and folklore... diaspora continues to be marked by the standard
theoretical concerns of the dialectic of homeland to diaspora; the relationship of the
nation-state to diaspora; and the… politics of global population movement’ (p. 12).
During the Early Postclassic period, many local cultures in West Mexico
underwent a transformation in the totality of their cultural inventory, as we saw in
Chapter VI. This process was characterized by Meighan (1974) with the following
words: ‘From about AD 900, there was a tremendous spread of influence –part military,
 693

part religious, and part mercantile– from the center of Mexico in all directions’ (p.
1259). When Meighan wrote this article, over 45 years ago, most archaeologists
believed that ‘West Mexico had very limited stone architecture or sculpture, and there
are no ancient cities of the size or magnificence to be seen in the Maya area. Indeed, the
most impressive West Mexican sites have little to show today except for earth mounds
that are at most 10 meters high —insignificant compared to the constructions in other
parts of Mesoamerica’ (p. 1259). We now know that Meighan’s viewpoint is not
entirely true, in light of recent archaeological research in Michoacán, the Lerma River
Basin, and the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit area. We saw in Chapters V and VI that there are
many examples of monumental sites with well-developed architecture from Classic
times onwards. However, there are still differences among West Mexico, central
Mexico and southern Mesoamerica when it comes to urbanism, scale of site
construction and the size and complexity of individual structures. The differences
among the contrasting urban traditions seen in these areas may be explained by
Elizabeth Graham’s study of urban centers that she calls ‘green cities’. In the process of
examining the ways in which archaeologists and other scholars define the built
environment, Graham (1999) makes a distinction ‘between stone cities and green cities.
Stone cities are those in which stone or mud brick or plaster or any building material
dominates the landscape creating dense clusters of houses and features in which green
space is kept at bay. Green cities, [like] those of the Maya [and] many cities in humid
tropical West Africa, have traditionally been seen as farther “down” the evolutionary
scale than stone cities’ (p. 191).

According to Graham, ‘green space is generally excluded from consideration as

the object of intensification or development in the process of urbanization…we ought to
give green space management deeper thought. In the humid tropics in particular, urban
green space may have been subject to the same pressures for developing complexity and
intensification as the built or stone environment’ (p. 191). Graham holds that ‘expanses
of green in tropical cities ought not to be interpreted as evidence of an underdeveloped
built environment, but an indication that more sophisticated approaches are needed to
heighten perception and interpretation of an alternative urban pathway. It is also true
that the forests around tropical cities may not be the remnants of wild stands, but may
themselves be a reflection of ecosystem management’ (p. 191).
 694

If one follows Graham’s perspective, then our perceptions of most large towns in
West Mexico would change, even if we do not compare them to Teotihuacan, Monte
Albán, Xochicalco, or any of the great ‘stone cities’ of Mesoamerica. Perhaps our model
for comparison should not be the central Mexican urban tradition but, rather, the ‘green
cities’ in Mesoamerica and other tropical areas, such as Central America and the
Caribbean. One could also consider examples beyond the confines of the New World,
for instance West Africa, as suggested by Graham.
The topic or urban development, or the lack thereof, is usually equated with
sociopolitical complexity in the archaeological literature. In the case of West Mexico,
the lack of fieldwork and an emphasis on tombs, pottery, figurines and art styles has
obscured the true nature of indigenous urbanism. The current viewpoint is that no true
cities or full-blown state societies or empires ever existed in West Mexico except, of
course, for the Tarascan Empire. The archaeological information that we have at the
moment would seem to indicate that most societies in the west had a level of complexity
best characterized as chiefdom, even during the Postclassic period. However, these
societies are difficult to classify in terms of their level of political complexity, which
may in some cases be intermediate between the levels of chiefdom and state. In this
respect, Marcus and Feinman (1998) mention three problems that, in their view, are
‘particularly thorny: how to classify a transitional society that seems to lie part way
before a chiefdom and a state… what to call the smaller polities that sometimes follow
the collapse of a centralized state… and what to call the polities on the periphery of a
state when they acquire some of the trappings of that state but are never really
incorporated into it’ (p. 6).
Flannery, meanwhile, addresses the differences between chiefdoms and states in
a way that is helpful for understanding the situation in ancient West Mexico vis-a-vis
‘nuclear’ Mesoamerica in terms of sociopolitical development. Flannery (1998) affirms
that ‘the discovery of a four-tiered settlement hierarchy, especially if it forms a central-
place lattice around a major city, can be a clue to the presence of a state… regions like
Mesopotamia and the Maya Lowlands were… oligarchies in which large numbers of
rulers and nobles struggled constantly for the upper hand’ (p. 21). In Flannery’s
opinion, ‘although chiefs could organize corvée labor to build temples and other public
buildings, they usually could not have their residences built for them. Kings, on the
other hand, could use corvée labor to build their palaces’ (p. 21).
 695

It is important to bear in mind that ‘chiefdoms are rank societies: all but the most
elaborate had a continuum of statuses without a division into social classes. In a village
of 1,000 persons, one might expect to find as many as 10 or 15 chiefly families, all with
relatively elite residences. It is rarely possible for an archaeologist to specify one
residence in such a village as ‘the house of the chief’. On the other hand, ‘many archaic
states… were stratified societies that built monumental palaces for their royal families’
(p. 21).
One last word about chiefdoms comes from Feinman (1998), whose thoughts are
highly-relevant for the discussion of sociopolitical complexity in pre-Hispanic West
Mexico: ‘Although archaeologists and historians have had few difficulties recognizing
and categorizing large preindustrial states, the smaller components of state systems…
interstate systems… or peer-polity networks… are more difficult to classify’ (p. 103). In
Feinman’s view, many of these small polities overlap in scale and political complexity
with what he calls ‘complex chiefdoms’. Feinman mentions the following criteria to
identify complex chiefdoms or emerging states in the ethnohistorical and archaeological
record:
(1) many… polities were composed of economically stratified classes (often
with slaves); (2) their rulers or kings lived in palace structures; (3) the regional
population densities were greater than is sometimes found in the same area…
under more centralized states; (4) writing systems often were employed; (5) in
certain instances market systems were in place; and, (6) at least three (often
more) decision-making levels were present… these component polities often
were linked through marriage, conquest, political alliance, and other ties into
multi-tiered confederations of greater vertical complexity (p. 104).

When dealing with sociocultural complexity in West Mexico, it is important to

bear in mind that during the Late Postclassic period the political landscape we have
characterized as ‘complex chiefdoms’ can only be applied to the Jalisco-Colima-Nayarit
and Sinaloa area. As we saw in this book, the present state of Michoacán was the seat of
the Tarascan Empire, one of the most powerful states in the ecumene. Earlier in this
book, we examined the processes that led to the formation of this powerful kingdom.
The discussion of the origin of the Tarascan state begs the question of why the rest of
West Mexico apparently lagged behind in terms of sociopolitical complexity. While we
cannot provide a clear answer to this question here, we can explore the ways in which
 696

some authors have dealt with aspects of sociopolitical diversity elsewhere in

Mesoamerica.
Feinman (2000), for example, has written that ‘from its inception one of the
major strengths and key themes of American archaeology has been its endeavor to
understand sociocultural similarities and differences through comparative analyses’ (p.
31). Feinman questions the traditional monolithic models which assume that
hierarchical complexity, greater wealth stratification and the increasing centralization of
power always co-occur directly. Feinman challenges ‘the theoretical expectation that
political hierarchy formation necessarily entails the stark consolidation of power and
wealth by a few individuals or specific families’ (p. 31).
In contrast to a more monolithic perspective on hierarchies, Feinman discusses
‘the distinctions between two modes of political organization… the network or
exclusionary mode, on the one hand, and the corporate mode, on the other. These modes
refer to distinct strategies for achieving and maintaining power… In the network or
exclusionary mode power is focused on individuals and their personal networks (e.g.,
descent genealogies, exchange partners)’ (p. 31). In contrast, with the corporate mode
access to power ‘is less individualized, more apt to be shared, and often a product of
group membership. In most settings social actors typically have the ability to put people
and resources together in limited and constrained ways toward goals and ends that also
are circumscribed… for that reason corporate and network strategies frequently tend to
be opposed’ (p. 32).
In Feinman’s opinion, ‘the corporate/network dimension provides a means to
account more generally for specific variation within levels of sociopolitical
complexity… [the corporate/network approach] serves to broaden and strengthen our
analytical arsenal and to build a better theoretical foundation for our study of societal
variation and long-term change’ (p. 50). A framework that is ‘more multifaceted and
multi-dimensional… for the examination of long-term change eventually should allow
us to incorporate aspects of cultural variability into our comparative perspectives in a
way [that is usually not] considered by monolithic and unilinear frameworks’ (p. 50). In
other words, we should see the chiefdom-state categorization as a continuum, rather
than as a stark polarization of two different levels of complexity. This is particularly
true in the case of ancient West Mexico (especially such archaeological entities as the
Teuchitlán tradition), as we have seen in many examples throughout this book.
 697

We have seen, as well, that empires throughout the ancient world relied on
efficient communication networks in order to control their territories and maintain the
widespread trade structures that were their lifeline. The Aztecs and Tarascans were no
exception to this rule. The road networks of the Tarascan Empire were studied by
Gorenstein and Pollard (1991), who carried out a thorough examination ‘of Tarascan
routes… with ethnohistorical and archaeological data on roads, paths, and canoe routes,
the latter marked by landings… The Relación de Michoacán referred to routes in the
Protohistoric period. There was a road around… [Lake Pátzcuaro]… that linked
lakeside settlements’ (p. 170). Towns around the lake were also linked by canoe.
Indeed, the canoe ‘was a common means of transport, especially to convey information
and in warfare’ (p. 170). Gorenstein and Pollard identified several external routes
leading to settlements outside the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Sections of roads were located
in the field: ‘They are cobbled beds about 3 m wide. However, no excavation was done
that would have confirmed their Protohistoric date’ (p. 170).
In the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, as in other parts of the empire, transport routes
were the means by which persons, goods and information moved among settlements. As
such, ‘they are indicators of the relationships among settlements, particularly of the
relative importance of the roles of settlements in the conveyance of persons, goods, and
information’ (p. 176).
In the course of their study, Gorenstein and Pollard plotted the land routes to two
areas of the Tarascan territory, one to the south and one to the east. The first area ‘is the
Balsas Basin where there was a major mining enterprise. The second area was the
eastern frontier, which was marked by fortifications facing, across a no man’s land, a
similar group of Aztec fortifications’ (pp. 177-179).
The procedure followed by those authors involved, first, identifying
Protohistoric settlements and Protohistoric mining and military enterprises on the basis
of ethnohistorical and archaeological data; and, second, locating and determining the
attributes of Protohistoric routes identified in the ethnohistorical record. ‘The route
attributes are: (1) along rivers; (2) through mountain passes; and (3) along level
elevations. Finally, these native attributes were used to predict probable routes
connecting already identified Protohistoric settlements and cultural features’ (p. 179).
Distance between key points was one of the major constraints in the formation of
efficient economic patterns in the study area. Gorenstein and Pollard discovered that
‘although most basic resources were within two days’ journey of the capital, many
 698

resources came from areas that were six days’ journey away… a weakly developed
dendritic network suggests a region linked to the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin by
administrative ties rather than by market-system ties’ (p. 181). In fact, according to the
authors, a well-developed internal market system was never formed in pre-Hispanic
times because of the lack of internal connectivity.
Another key finding of Gorenstein and Pollard’s study is that ‘the most active…
Tarascan frontier zone was that on the east… Ten settlements with military functions
can be identified as marking the limits of the eastern frontier… This Tarascan frontier
zone faced a similar Aztec frontier zone of settlements with military functions that were
counterparts of the Tarascan settlements to the west’ (p. 181).
Although many key products and commodities were transported over the
Tarascan road system, ‘the most important cargo carried over these routes was
information, and the Tarascan information carriers were members of the…
administrative system… Wartime spies were also part of the government bureaucracy’
(p. 183).
As stated above, the routes in the intermediate zone were important as
information highways, but they ‘were also used in commerce. The frontier settlements
transmitted to Tzintzuntzan products that by either type or quantity could not have
originated at those settlements… in this way, certain Tarascan frontier settlements
served as official ports of trade’ (p. 183). In conclusion, the study of Tarascan routes
discussed here revealed the existence of ‘a solar pattern in which the primary organizing
functions were administrative as well as economic. That pattern is different from what is
known in other parts of Mesoamerica’ (p. 184).
In his book At Home with the Aztecs, Smith (2016) discusses his fieldwork at
Capilco, Cuexcomate and Yautepec, three provincial Aztec sites in the state of Morelos,
central Mexico. Smith found an ‘abundance of goods at every house. Each trash heap
had numerous imported items and a diversity of ritual objects –from musical
instruments to incense burners– that signaled a rich ceremonial life. There was enough
food, and diets were more than adequate. Indeed… these were successful households
and communities… their members were prosperous and creative in forging an enduring
way of life’ (pp. 8-9). Smith tells us that in recent decades anthropologists and
historians have come to recognize the ‘importance of studying the common people in
society. The topic of “household studies” became a major focus of research…
Archaeologists picked up on this new approach and quickly realized that by excavating
 699

ancient houses and households –instead of tombs and palaces– they could… look
directly at the lives of past peoples who were not kings or nobles’ (p. 9). Archaeologists
could now learn ‘what people ate, the kinds of things they did in their homes, how they
made a living, and their social and economic situation… “household archaeology”
rapidly developed into an alternative to the traditional methods of “monumental
archaeology”’ (p. 9). Smith makes the following distinction between ‘family’ and
‘household’: ‘Family is a group of close relatives, whereas a household is a collection of
people who live together under one roof. Households often correspond to families, but
they frequently include non-kin living in the same house. The family-household
distinction is important because in many parts of the world… servants or lodgers play
important roles in the activities of the household’ (pp. 9-10). Smith holds that ‘in rural
farming communities… the ability to have non-kin join and participate in household
activities creates flexibility, and flexibility is one of the keys to the success of the…
communities’ (p. 10).
One of the aspects covered by Smith’s studies of Aztec communities in Morelos
‘was the extent to which the Aztec market system reached into the provinces to provide
households with the goods they needed. Obsidian is the most obvious import. The
closest geological source of obsidian is more than 100 miles away. Ninety-five percent
of our obsidian had a green tint, which indicates that it came from a specific source
near… Pachuca’ (p. 49) in the state of Hidalgo, north-east of the Morelos sites.
According to Smith, ‘the Aztec way of life depended on trade and markets. Many
farmers cultivated cotton, which meant they had to trade with others for maize, beans,
and other foods. Obsidian workers and other urban specialists exchanged their products
for food in the market’ (p. 102).
Although written sources on Aztec cities mention markets and merchants, the
lack of documents from rural and provincial areas meant that we could not be sure
whether markets were operating at the sites examined herein or not. Smith selected six
pieces of gray obsidian at random from each house occupied during each period, and
analyzed their trace elements using X-ray fluorescence. The results of the analysis
supported the hypothesis that most people bought their obsidian in the marketplace (p.
102).
We saw in Chapter VII that obsidian was one of the most critical imports to the
Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, which lacks natural deposits of this indispensible mineral. David
P. Walton (2017) carried out an analysis of the Tarascan obsidian economy through the
 700

study of lithic production and consumption patterns from structures on and near the
Great Platform at Tzintzuntzan. He discovered four spatial patterns: (1) the residents of
the Great Platform used high-quality obsidian blades as ceremonial items or burial
offerings, and obsidian scrapers for craft production; (2) lower-elite residents produced
their own blade tools and consumed a higher percentage of green obsidian; (3) the
building known as Yácata 3 contained bifacial arrowheads and obsidian blood-letters
associated with offerings; and (4) lapidary pre-forms and highly-polished fragments
suggest that lower elites produced obsidian jewelry near the Great Platform.
Studies like Walton’s are based on a distinctly anthropological social theory that
aims to reconstruct the daily lives of people in the context of their homes, workshops
and temples. This approach is not concerned with ‘monumental’ archaeology, like the
efforts of many ‘normative’ archaeologists. The subject of interest is not pyramids,
potsherds or tombs, but human behavior and culture. In this regard, household
archaeology offers a fundamental perspective on human social behavior, as we have
seen in this book. Penelope Allison (1999) has said that ‘archaeologists do not dig up
households. They dig up dwellings and domestic artefacts but not social units. A
household is an ethnographic phenomenon, not an archaeological one’ (p. 2). Therefore,
in order to interpret the nature and meaning of archaeological contexts and artifacts, we
need a social theory to bridge the gap between (static) material culture and (dynamic)
human behavior.
Schiffer (2000) holds that ‘social theory consists of bodies of general knowledge
about sociocultural phenomena expressed in postulates, premises, assumptions, and
models. Often having rich empirical implications, social theories ostensibly answer how
and why questions about human behavior and societies… no single social theory can
serve all explanatory needs in archaeology’ (p. 1). In the case of West Mexico, Weigand
(1995b) reminded archaeologists working there that ‘sociological arguments require
data that have social context, like ceramic ecology, the evolution of a cultural landscape,
architecture, settlement patterns, demography, profiles of scarce and strategic resources,
specialized production (including crafts), etcetera… it is the conjunctive approach, the
maximization of the overall data base, that will give us the best opportunity of having
an anthropological archaeology in West Mexico’ (p. 21).
With these thoughts in mind, the present book has followed a holistic approach
that included data and perspectives from sociocultural anthropology, ethnohistory,
ethnoarchaeology, household archaeology and general analogy with many ancient
 701

cultures within the Mesoamerican ecumene and beyond, including many of the Old
World. My main subjects of interest were the relationship between West Mexico and
the rest of the ecumene, and the role of the ancient West Mexicans in shaping the
culture and history of the Mesoamerican universe. After more than a century of
archaeological research, it is high time to recognize West Mexico’s rightful place
among the major players on the stage of the Mesoamerican ecumene.
 702

References Cited

Acosta, Jorge
1939 Exploraciones arqueológicas realizadas en el estado de Michoacán durante los
años de 1937 y 1938. Revista Mexicana de Estudios Antropológicos III, pp. 85-
99.

Acosta, Rosario
1994 Los enterramientos del fraccionamiento San Juan Atoyac, Jalisco. In
Contribuciones a la arqueología y etnohistoria del Occidente de México, edited
by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Acuña, René (editor)

1987 Relaciones geográficas del siglo XVI: Michoacán. UNAM, Mexico City.

1988 Relaciones geográficas del siglo XVI: Nueva Galicia. UNAM, Mexico City.

Adams, Richard E. W.
1977 Prehistoric Mesoamerica. Little, Brown, and Company, Boston.

Adams, Robert McC.

1979 Late Prehispanic Empires of the New World. In Power and Propaganda: A
Symposium on Ancient Empires, edited by Mogen T. Larson. Akademisk Forlag,
Copenhagen.

Aguirre, Oscar, et al.

1964 Primer informe sobre los trabajos arqueológicos en la presa de El Infiernillo,
Guerrero y Michoacán. Boletín INAH 17, pp. 24-31.

Alcalá, Fr. Jerónimo de

2008 La relación de Michoacán. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora. [Written in ca.
1540].

Algaze, Guillermo
1993a Expansionary Dynamics of Some Early Pristine States. American Anthropologist
95 (2), pp. 304-333.

1993b The Uruk World System: The Dynamics of Expansion of Early Mesopotamian
Civilization. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London.

Aliphat, Mario
1987 La cuenca Zacoalco-Sayula: ocupación humana durante el Pleistoceno final en el
Occidente de México. In Orígenes del hombre americano, edited by Alba
González Jácome. Secretaría de Educación Pública, Mexico City.

Allison, Penelope M.
1999 Introduction. In The Archaeology of Household Activities, edited by Penelope M.
Allison. Routledge, Oxford.
 703

Andrews, Anthony P.
1983 Maya Salt Production and Trade. University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

Argueta, Arturo
2008 Los saberes purépechas: los animales y el diálogo con la naturaleza.
Universidad Michoacana and UNAM, Morelia and Mexico City.

Armillas, Pedro
1948 Discusión. In El occidente de México: Cuarta reunión de mesa redonda sobre
problemas antropológicos de México y Centroamérica. Sociedad Mexicana de
Antropología, Mexico City.

1967 Tecnología, formaciones socio-económicas y religión en Mesoamérica. In The

Civilizations of Ancient America, edited by Sol Tax. Cooper Square Publishers,
New York .

1991[1948] Una secuencia del desarrollo cultural en Mesoamérica. In Pedro

Armillas: vida y obra, edited by Teresa Rojas Rabiela. Ciesas-INAH, Mexico
City.

1991[1964] Condiciones ambientales y movimientos de pueblos en la frontera

septentrional de Mesoamérica. In Pedro Armillas: vida y obra, edited by Teresa
Rojas. CIESAS and INAH, Mexico City.

Arnauld, Charlotte
1996 Investigaciones paleoambientales en la cuenca lacustre de Zacapu: programas
Michoacán II y Laguna. In Las cuencas del Occidente de México: época
prehispánica, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

2012 Neighborhoods and Intermediate Units of Spatial and Social Analysis in Ancient
Mesoamerica. In The Neighborhood as a Social and Spatial Unit in
Mesoamerican Cities, edited by Marie Charlotte Arnauld, Linda R. Manzanilla,
and Michael E. Smith. The University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

Arnauld, Charlotte, Patricia Carot and Marie France Fauvet-Berthelot

1988 Asentamientos lacustres en la ciénega de Zacapu, Michoacán. In Primera
reunión sobre las sociedades prehispánicas en el centro-occidente de México.
Centro Regional de Querétaro. INAH, Querétaro.

1993 Arqueología de Las Lomas en la cuenca lacustre de Zacapu, Michoacán,

México. Cuadernos de Estudios Michoacanos 5. Cemca, Mexico City.

Arroyo Mora, Daisy

1998 Crecimiento y reproducción de Strombus galeatus en el Pacífico de Costa Rica.
Revista de Biología Tropical 46 (6), pp. 27-36.

Ascher, Robert
 704

1962 Ethnography for Archaeology: A Case from the Seri Indians. Ethnology 1 (3),
pp. 360-369.

Atlas Geográfico
2000 Atlas geográfico del estado de Michoacán. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán,
Morelia.

Aveleyra, Luis
1964 The Primitive Hunters. In Handbook of Middle-American Indians 1, edited by
Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Ávila, Patricia
1999 El valle Morelia-Queréndaro y su deterioro ambiental. In Frutos del campo
michoacano, edited by Esteban Barragán. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2002 Escasez y contaminación del agua en la cuenca del lago de Cuitzeo: el caso de
Morelia y su entorno rural. In Los estudios del agua en la cuenca Lerma-
Chapala-Santiago, edited by Brigitte Boehm, Juan Manuel Durán, Martín
Sánchez and Alicia Torres. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Bahn, Paul G. (editor)

1996 The Cambridge Illustrated History of Archaeology. Cambridge University Press,
Cambridge.

Beekman, Christopher
1996 El complejo El Grillo del centro de Jalisco: una revisión de su cronología y
significado. In Las cuencas del Occidente de México: época prehispánica,
edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán/
Cemca/ Orstom, Zamora.

2008a Linajes y casas en el Formativo y el Clásico: los casos de Navajas y Llano

Grande, Jalisco. In Tradición Teuchitlán, edited by Phil C. Weigand,
Christopher Beekman, and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán and
Secretaría de Cultura de Jalisco, Zamora and Guadalajara.

2008b Corporate Power Strategies in the Late Formative to Early Classic Tequila
Valleys of Central Jalisco. Latin American Antiquity 19 (4), pp. 414-434.

2010 Recent Research in Western Mexican Archaeology. Journal of Archaeological

Research 18 (1), pp. 41-109

Beekman, Christopher, Vincent Schiavitti, and Phil C. Weigand

1996 Una examinación de las fechas disponibles del Occidente de México. Paper
presented at the 4th Coloquio de Occidentalistas. Universidad de Guadalajara,
Mexico, 12th June 1996.

Bell, Betty
1971 Archaeology of Nayarit, Jalisco, and Colima. In Handbook of Middle-American
Indians 11, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.
 705

Bell, Betty (editor)

1974a The Archaeology of West Mexico. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study,
Ajijic.

1974b Foreword. In The Archaeology of West Mexico, edited by Betty Bell. West
Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

1974c Excavations at El Cerro Encantado, Jalisco. In The Archaeology of West Mexico,

edited by Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

Beltrán, Ulises
1982 Tarascan State and Society in Prehispanic Times: An Ethnohistorical Inquiry.
PhD Dissertation, University of Chicago.

Benavides, Hugo
2001 Returning to the Source: Social Archaeology as Latin American Philosophy.
Latin American Antiquity 12 (4), pp. 355-370.

2004 Making Ecuadorian Histories: Four Centuries of Defining Power. University of

Texas Press, Austin.

Berdan, Frances F.
2003 The Economy of Postclassic Mesoamerica. In The Postclassic Mesoamerican
World, edited by Michael E. Smith and Frances F. Berdan. University of Utah
Press, Salt Lake City.

2014 Aztec Archaeology and Ethnohistory. University of Cambridge Press,

Cambridge.

2016 La turquesa y la economía en Mesoamérica durante el Postclásico. Arqueología

Mexicana 24 (141), pp. 74-79.

Bergier, Jean-Francois
1982 Une histoire du sel. Office du Livre, Fribourg.

Berlo, Janet C.
1992 Icons and Ideologies at Teotihuacan: The Great Goddess Reconsidered. In Art,
Ideology, and the City of Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton
Oaks, Washington.

Bernal, Ignacio
1969 The Olmec World. University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles,
London.

1970 The Mixtecs in the Archaeology of the Valley of Oaxaca. In Ancient Oaxaca:
Discoveries in Mexican Archaeology and History, edited by John Paddock.
Stanford University Press, Stanford.
 706

1980 A History of Mexican Archaeology: the Vanished Civilizations of Middle

America. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Berrin, Kathleen (editor)

1988 Feathered Serpents and Flowering Trees: Reconstructing the Murals of
Teotihuacan. The Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, San Francisco.

Berrin, Kathleen and Esther Pasztory (editors)

1993 Teotihuacan: Art from the City of the Gods. Thames and Hudson, London.

Biar, Alexandra and Mariana Favila

2016 Tradiciones de navegación indígena en Mesoamérica. In El mar: una forma de
vida en América, edited by Alberto Hoces and Carlos Moral. Historia y Cultura
del Mar, Madrid.

Billman, Brian R.
2002 Irrigation and the Origins of the Southern Moche State on the North Coast of
Peru. Latin American Antiquity 13 (4), pp. 371-400.

Binford, Lewis R.
1968 Methodological Considerations of the Archaeological Use of Ethnographic Data.
In Man the Hunter, edited by Richard Lee and Irven de Vore. Aldine
Transaction, New Brunswick.

1981 Bones: Ancient Men and Modern Myths. Academic Press, New York.

1983 In Pursuit of the Past: Decoding the Archaeological Record. Thames and
Hudson, New York.

Bird, Douglas W. and Rebecca L. Bliege Bird

1997 Contemporary Shellfish Gathering Strategies among the Meriam of the Torres
Strait Islands, Australia: Testing Predictions of a Central Place Foraging Model.
Journal of Archaeological Science 24, pp. 39-63.

Blake, Michael, Brian S. Chisholm, John E. Clark, Barbara Voorhies, and Michael W.
Love
1992 Prehistoric Subsistence in the Soconusco Region. Current Anthropology 33 (1),
pp. 83-94.

Blanco, Ericka
2007 Catálogo de piezas prehispánicas de la colección del Museo Regional de
Teocuitatlán. BA Thesis, Escuela de Antropología, Arqueología e Historia,
Universidad Autónoma de Guadalajara, Zapopan.

2018 El uso del espacio en la isla de Atitlán por más de 1000 años (400-1500 d.C.).
Doctoral dissertation, Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, UNAM, Mexico City.

Blanton, Richard E.
 707

2003 Monte Albán in Period V. In The Cloud People: Divergent Evolution of the
Zapotec and Mixtec Civilizations, edited by Kent V. Flannery and Joyce Marcus.
Percheron Press, Clinton Corners.

2013 Cooperation and the Moral Economy of the Marketplace. In Merchants,

Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World, edited by Kenneth Hirth
and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Blanton, Richard E., Lane F. Fargher, and Verenice Heredia

2005 The Mesoamerican World of Goods and Its Transformations. In Settlement,
Subsistence, and Social Complexity, edited by Richard E. Blanton. Cotsen
Institute of Archaeology, University of California, Los Angeles.

Blanton, Richard E., and Gary M. Feinman

1984 The Mesoamerican World System. American Anthropologist 86, pp. 673-682.

Blanton, Richard E., Stephen A. Kowalewski, Gary Feinman and Jill Appel
1981 Ancient Mesoamerica: A Comparison of Change in Three Regions. Cambridge
University Press, Cambridge.

Boehm, Brigitte
1985 El origen del Estado en el valle de México: marxismo, modo de producción
asiático y materialismo ecológico en la investigación del México prehispánico.
In Mesoamérica y el centro de México: una antología, edited by Jesús Monjarás,
Rosa Brambila and Emma Pérez Rocha. Colección Biblioteca del INAH,
Mexico City.

1988 Evolución cultural de las cuencas del centro y occidente de México. Relaciones:
Estudios de Historia y Sociedad IX (35), pp. 5-30.

2006 La desecación de ciénagas y lagos y sus consecuencias sociales y

medioambientales en la cuenca del Lerma. In Agua y lagos: una mirada desde lo
global hasta lo local, edited by Patricia Ávila. Secretaría de Cultura, Gobierno
del Estado de Michoacán, Morelia.

Boehm, Brigitte (editor)

1994 El Michoacán antiguo. El Colegio de Michoacán and Gobierno del Estado de
Michoacán, Zamora and Morelia.

Bonavit, Julián
1908 Objetos arqueológicos encontrados en Ihuatzio. Boletín de la Sociedad
Mexicana de Geografía y Estadística 4, pp. 211-213.

Bond, Margaret
1971 The Archaeology of Lake Chapala, Jalisco. Ph.D. Dissertation, Tulane
University, New Orleans.

Bonifaz, Rubén and Fernando Robles

1981 The Art in the Great Temple: Mexico-Tenochtitlan. INAH, Mexico City.
 708

Bordaz, Jacques
1964 Pre-Columbian Ceramic Kilns at Peñitas, Nayarit, Mexico. Ph.D. Dissertation.
Columbia University, New York.

Braidwood, Robert J.
1967 Prehistoric Men. Scott, Foresman and Co., Glenview.

Brambila, Rosa and Carlos Castañeda

1993 Los basamentos con espacios hundidos. Cuadernos de Arquitectura
Mesoamericana 25, pp. 73-78.

Brand, Donald
1960 Coalcomán and Motines del Oro: An Ex-Distrito of Michoacán, Mexico.
University of Texas Press, Austin.

1971 Ethnohistorical Synthesis of Western Mexico. In Handbook of Middle-American

Indians 11, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Braniff, Beatriz

1972 Secuencias arqueológicas en Guanajuato y la cuenca de México: intento de

correlación. In Teotihuacán, XI Mesa Redonda. Sociedad Mexicana de
Antropología, Mexico City.

1974 Oscilación de la frontera norte de Mesoamérica. In The Archaeology of West

Mexico, edited by Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

1989 Oscilación de la frontera norte de Mesoamérica: un nuevo ensayo. Arqueología

(segunda época) 1, pp. 99-14.

1999 Algunas consideraciones sobre la arqueología del Bajío. In Arqueología y

etnohistoria: la región del Lerma, edited by Eduardo Williams and P. C. Weigand.
El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2000 A Summary of the Archaeology of North-Central Mesoamerica: Guanajuato,

Querétaro, and San Luis Potosí. In Greater Mesoamerica: The Archaeology of
West and Northwest Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster and Shirley
Gorenstein. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

2001 Los teochichimecas. In La gran Chichimeca: el lugar de las rocas secas, edited
by Beatriz Braniff. Conaculta and Editoriale Jaca Book, Mexico City and Milan.

2005 Los chichimecas a la caída de Teotihuacan y durante la conformación de la Tula

de Hidalgo. In Reacomodos demográficos del Clásico al Postclásico en el centro
de México, edited by Linda Manzanilla. UNAM, Mexico City.

Braswell, Geoffrey (editor)

2003 The Maya and Teotihuacan: Reinterpreting Early Classic Interaction.
University of Texas Press, Austin.
 709

Braudel, Fernand

1984 El Mediterráneo y el mundo mediterráneo en la época de Felipe II. Fondo de

Cultura Económica, Mexico City.

Bray, Warwick
1989 Preface. In The Art of Ruins: Adela Breton and the Temples of Mexico, edited by
Sue Giles and Jennifer Stewart. Bristol Museum and Galleries, Bristol.

Breton, Adela
1905 Some Obsidian Workings in Mexico. In Proceedings of the 13th International
Congress of Americanists. International Congress of Americanists, New York.

1989a Letter written to F. W. Putnam in 19 June 1904. In The Art of Ruins: Adela
Breton and the Temples of Mexico, edited by Sue Giles and Jennifer Stewart.
Bristol Museum and Galleries, Bristol.

1989b Some Mexican Portrait Clay Figures. In The Art of Ruins: Adela Breton and the
Temples of Mexico, edited by Sue Giles and Jennifer Stewart. Bristol Museum
and Galleries, Bristol. [First published in 1903].

Brundage, Burr C.
1979 The Fifth Sun: Aztec Gods, Aztec World. Texas University Press, Austin.

Buen, Fernando de
1944 Los lagos michoacanos II, Pátzcuaro. Revista de la Sociedad Mexicana de
Historia Natural 5 (1-2), pp. 99-125.

Butterwick, Kristi
1998 Food for the Dead: The West Mexican Art of Feasting. In Ancient West Mexico:
Art and Archaeology of the Unknown Past, edited by R. F. Townsend. The Art
Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

Caballero, Javier, Narciso Barrera, and Cristina Mapes

1992 La vegetación terrestre. In Plan Pátzcuaro 2000: investigación
multidisciplinaria para el desarrollo sostenido, edited by Victor M. Toledo,
Patricia Álvarez-Icaza, and Patricia Ávila. Fundación Friedrich Ebert Stiftung,
Mexico City.

Cabrera, Rubén
1989 La costa de Michoacán en la época prehispánica. In Historia general de
Michoacán, edited by Enrique Florescano 1. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán
and Instituto Michoacano de Cultura, Morelia.

2008 Monte Albán y Teotihuacan: interacciones políticas, ideológicas y científicas. In

Bases de la complejidad social en Oaxaca: memoria de la Cuarta Mesa
Redonda de Monte Albán, edited by Nelly Robles García. INAH, Mexico City.

Cabrero, Ma. Teresa

1989 Civilización en el norte de México. UNAM, Mexico City.
 710

Calnek, Edward E.
1976 The Internal Structure of Tenochtitlan. In The Valley of Mexico: Studies in Pre-
Hispanic Ecology and Society, edited by Eric R. Wolf. University of New
Mexico Press, Albuquerque.

Canales, Elmo, Rodrigo Esparza López, and Phil C. Weigand

2006 Folsom Points from Los Guachimontones Site, Jalisco, Mexico. Current
Research on the Pleistocene 23, pp. 58-60.

Carballo, David M.
2013 The Social Organization of Craft Production and Interregional Exchange at
Teotihuacan. In Merchants, Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian
World, edited by Kenneth Hirth and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks,
Washington.

Cárdenas, Efraín
1999 Santa María, Morelia: un desarrollo cultural local con notables influencias
externas. In Arqueología y etnohistoria: la región del Lerma, edited by Eduardo
Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2007 Peralta, Abasolo: arquitectura monumental de la tradición El Bajío. In Zonas

arqueológicas en Guanajuato, cuatro casos: Plazuelas, Cañada de la Vírgen,
Peralta y El Cóporo. Fideicomiso de Administración e Inversión, and Ediciones
La Rana, Guanajuato.

Carneiro, Robert
1970 A Theory of the Origin of the State. Science 169, pp. 733-738.

1981 The Chiefdom: Precursor of the State. In The Transition to Statehood in the New
World, edited by Grant D. Jones and Robert R. Kautz. Cambridge University
Press, Cambridge.

2011 La teoría de la circunscripción: una clarificación, amplificación y reformulación.

In Mesoamérica: debates y perspectivas, edited by Eduardo Williams,
Magdalena García, Manuel Gándara, and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

Carot, Patricia
1992 La cerámica protoclásica del sitio de Loma Alta, municipio de Zacapu,
Michoacán: nuevos datos. In Origen y desarrollo en el Occidente de México,
edited by Brigitte Boehm and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

1994 Loma Alta: antigua isla funeraria en la ciénega de Zacapu, Michoacán. In

Arqueología del Occidente de México: nuevas aportaciones, edited byEduardo
Williams and Robert Novella. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Carot, Patricia, and Marie F. Fauvet Bethelot

 711

1996 La monumentalidad del sitio de Loma Alta, revelada por métodos de

prospección geofísica. In Las cuencas del Occidente de México: época
prehispánica, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de
Michoacán/ Cemca/ Orstom, Zamora.
Carot, Patricia and A. Susini
1989 Una práctica funeraria insólita en el Occidente: la cremación y pulverización de
osamentas humanas. Trace 16, pp. 112-114.

Carpenter, John, Guadalupe Sánchez, and Ismael Sánchez

2018 The Archaic Period in Sonora. In The Archaic Southwest: Foragers in an Arid
Land, edited by Bradley J. Vierra. The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Carrasco, Pedro
1978 La economía del México prehispánico. In Economía política e ideología en el
México prehispánico, edited by Pedro Carrasco and Johanna Broda. Editorial
Nueva Imagen, Mexico City.

Carrillo, Alberto
1999 Los primeros poblamientos de chichimecas en tierras de Guanajuato: experiencia
y pensamiento de los misioneros agustinos. In Arqueología y etnohistoria: la
región del Lerma, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio
de Michoacán, Zamora.

Caso, Alfonso
1927 Las ruinas de Tizatlán, Tlaxcala. Revista Mexicana de Estudios Históricos 1, pp.
139-172.

1938 Exploraciones en Michoacán, segunda temporada 1938. Departamento de

Monumentos Prehispánicos, INAH, Mexico City. Unpublished manuscript.

1969 El tesoro de Monte Albán. Memorias del INAH III. INAH, Mexico City.

1979 Reyes y reinos de la Mixteca. Fondo de Cultura Económica, Mexico City.

Caso, Alfonso, Ignacio Bernal, and Jorge R. Acosta

1967 La cerámica de Monte Albán. Memorias del INAH XIII. INAH, Mexico City.

Castañeda, Carlos
2007 Plazuelas, Pénjamo. In Zonas arqueológicas en Guanajuato, cuatro casos:
Plazuelas, Cañada de la Vírgen, Peralta y El Cóporo. Fideicomiso de
Administración e Inversión, and Ediciones La Rana, Guanajuato.

Castañón, Mijaely, and José L. Punzo

2017 Revisando la investigación cerámica en Tingambato, Michoacán. Trace 72, pp.
145-164.

Castelló, Teresa
1987 Presencia de la comida prehispánica. Fomento Cultural Banamex, Mexico City.

Castro Leal, Marcia

 712

1986 Tzintzuntzan: capital de los tarascos. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán,

Morelia.

Castro Leal, Marcia, Clara Díaz, and María Teresa García

1989 Los tarascos. In Historia general de Michoacán, edited by Enrique Florescano.
Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán, Morelia.

Chadwick, Robert
1971 Archaeological Synthesis of Michoacán and Adjacent Regions. In Handbook of
Middle-American Indians 11, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas
Press, Austin.

Chacón, Arturo
1992 Ecosistema lacustre. In Plan Pátzcuaro 2000: investigación multidisciplinaria
para el desarrollo sostenido, edited by Victor M. Toledo, Patricia Álvarez-Icaza
and Patricia Ávila. Fundación Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, Mexico City.

Chase, Arlen F. and Diane Z. Chase

1992 Mesoamerican Elites: Assumptions, Definitions, and Models. In Mesoamerican
Elites: An Archaeological Assessment, edited by Diane Z. Chase and Arlen F.
Chase. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

Chi, Ch’ao-Ting
2019 Key Economic Areas in Chinese History: As Revealed in the Development of
Public Works for Water Control. Routledge, London and New York. [First
published in 1936].

Clark, Grahame
1977 World Prehistory in New Perspective (Third Edition). Cambridge University
Press, Cambridge.

Cobean, Robert and Guadalupe Mastache

1995 Tula. In Xochicalco y Tula: corpus precolombino, edited by Eduardo Matos
Moctezuma. Jaca Books and Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes, Milan
and Mexico City.

Códice Borgia
1963 Códice Borgia. Fondo de Cultura Económica, Mexico City.

Coe, Michael D.
1981 Gift of the River: Ecology of the San Lorenzo Olmec. In The Olmec and their
Neighbors: Essays in Memory of Matthew W. Stirling, edited by Elizabeth P.
Benson. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

1984a Mexico (Second Edition). Thames and Hudson, London.

1984b The Maya (Third Edition). Thames and Hudson, London.

Coe, Michael D. and Richard Diehl

 713

1980 In the Land of the Olmec: The People of the River. University of Texas Press,
Austin.

Coe, Sophie D., and Michael D. Coe

1996 The True History of Chocolate. Thames and Hudson, New York.

Coggins, Clemency C.
1993 The Age of Teotihuacan and its Mission Abroad. In Teotihuacan: Art from the
City of the Gods, edited by Kathleen Berrin and Esther Pasztory. Thames and
Hudson, London.

Conrad, Geoffrey W., and Arthur A. Demarest

1984 Religion and Empire: the Dynamics of Aztec and Inca Expansionism. Cambridge
University Press, Cambridge.

Cook, Benjamin I., Edward R. Cook, Jason E. Smerdon, et al.

2016 North American Megadroughts in the Common Era: Reconstructions and
Simulations. WIRES Clim. Change 7, pp. 411-432.

Cordell, Linda
1984 Prehistory of the Southwest. Academic Press, New York.

2001 Los antiguos cazadores-recolectores en el Noroeste. In La gran Chichimeca: el

lugar de las rocas secas, edited by Beatriz Braniff. Conaculta and Editoriale
Jaca Book, Mexico City and Milan.

Corona Núñez, José

1946 Cuitzeo: estudio antropogeográfico. Acta Antropológica II: 1. Escuela Nacional
de Antropología e Historia, Mexico City.

1955 Tumba de El Arenal, Etzatlán, Jalisco. Dirección de Monumentos Prehispánicos,

INAH, Mexico City.

1960 Investigación arqueológica superficial hecha en el sur de Michoacán. In

Coalcomán and Motines del Oro: An Ex-Distrito of Michoacán, Mexico.
University of Texas Press, Austin.

1979 Cuitzeo: estudio antropogeográfico. Balsal Editores, Morelia.

Corona Olea, Horacio

1959 Entierro de Tuxpan, Jalisco. Tlalocan 12 (segunda época), pp. 18-21.

Covarrubias, Miguel
1957 Indian Art of Mexico and Central America. Alfred A. Knopf, New York.

Cowgill, George L.
1992 Social Differentiation at Teotihuacan. In Mesoamerican Elites: An
Archaeological Assessment, edited by Diane Z. Chase and Arlen F. Chase.
University of Oklahoma Press, Norman and London.
 714

2013 Possible Migrations and Shifting Identities in the Central Mexican Epiclassic.
Ancient Mesoamerica 24 (1), pp. 131-150.

2017 Speculative History of Teotihuacan. In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire,

edited by Matthew H. Robb. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco-De Young,
Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and University of California Press, Los
Angeles and San Francisco.

Cox, Barry, R. J. G. Savage, Brian Gardiner, and Dougal Dixon

1988 Macmillan Illustrated Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs and Prehistoric Animals.
Guild Publishing, London.

Crider, Destiny, Deborah L. Nichols, Hector Neff, and Michael D. Glascock

2007 In the Aftermath of Teotihuacan: Epiclassic Pottery Production and Distribution
in the Teotihuacan Valley, Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 18 (2), pp. 123-
143.

Dahlgren, Barbro
1990 La Mixteca: su cultura e historia prehispánicas. UNAM, Mexico City.

Darras, Véronique
1987 Primeros resultados de la caracterización química por medio de los elementos
traza de los yacimientos de obsidiana en la región de Zináparo-Purépero,
Michoacán. Trace 12, pp. 76-79.

1994 Las actividades de talla en los talleres de obsidiana del conjunto Zináparo-Prieto,
Michoacán. In Arqueología del Occidente de México: nuevas aportaciones,
edited by Eduardo Williams and Robert Novella. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

2008 Estrategias para la producción de navajas de obsidiana en le región de Zacapu y

la vertiente del Lerma. Ancient Mesoamerica 19, pp. 243-264.

Darras, Véronique and Brigitte Faugère

2005 Cronología de la cultura Chupícuaro: estudio del sitio La Tronera, Puruagüita,
Guanajuato. In El antiguo Occidente de México: nuevas perspectivas sobre el
pasado prehispánico, edited by Eduardo Williams, Phil C. Weigand, Lorenza
López and David Grove. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2007 Chupícuaro, entre el Occidente y el Altiplano Central: un balance de los

conocimientos y las nuevas aportaciones. In Dinámicas culturales en el
Occidente, el Centro-Norte y la cuenca de México, del Preclásico al Epiclásico,
edited by Brigitte Faugère. El Colegio de Michoacán and CEMCA, Zamora and
Mexico City.

2010 Chupicuaro and the Preclassic Shaft Tomb Tradition. Mexicon 23 (1-2), pp. 22-
30.

Darras, Véronique and Francoise Rodriguez

 715

1988 Identificación y explotación de materiales líticos regionales en el sector de

Zináparo. In Primera reunión sobre las sociedades prehispánicas en el centro-
occidente de México: memoria. Cuaderno de trabajo 1. Centro Regional INAH,
Querétaro.

Darras, Véronique, Vincent Bichet, Christophe Petit, and Laure Deodat

2016 The Challenges of Archaeology in Flood-Prone Areas: Understanding
Occupation Dynamics on the Lerma River. In Cultural Dynamics and
Production Activities in Ancient Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo Williams
and Blanca Maldonado. Archaeopress, Oxford.

Dauphinee, James A.
1960 Sodium Chloride in Physiology, Nutrition, and Medicine. In Sodium Chloride:
the Production and Properties of Salt and Brine, edited by Dale W. Kaufmann.
Hafner Publishing Co., New York.

David, Nicholas, and Carol Kramer

2001 Ethnoarchaeology in Action. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Davies, Nigel
1977 The Toltecs Until the Fall of Tula. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

1980 The Toltec Heritage: From the Fall of Tula to the Rise of Tenochtitlan.
University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

2010 The Incas. The Folio Society, London.

De la Fuente, Beatriz, Silvia Trejo, and Nelly Gutiérrez

1988 Escultura en piedra de Tula: catálogo. Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas,
UNAM, Mexico City.

De Lucia, Kristin
2017a The Living House: The Vernacular Architecture of Early Postclassic Xaltocan,
Mexico. In Vernacular Architecture in the Pre-Columbian Americas, edited by
Christina T. Halperin and Lauren E. Schwartz. Routledge, London and New
York.

2017b Households in the Aztec Empire. In The Oxford Handbook of the Aztecs, edited
by Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-Alegría. Oxford University
Press, Oxford.

De Santiago, Victor M.
1996 Museo universitario de arqueología. Universidad de Colima and INAH, Colima.

Diamond, Jared
1999 Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies. Norton, New York.

Díaz, Clara L.
1980 Chingú: un sitio clásico del área de Tula, Hidalgo. Colección Científica 90.
INAH, Mexico City.
 716

Diehl, Richard A.
1983 Tula: The Toltec Capital of Ancient Mexico. Thames and Hudson, London and
New York.

1989 A Shadow of its Former Self: Teotihuacan during the Coyotlatelco Period. In
Mesoamerica After the Decline of Teotihuacan: A.D. 700-900, edited by Richard
A. Diehl and Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

2004 The Olmecs: America’s First Civilization. Thames and Hudson, London.

Diehl, Richard A. and Janet C. Berlo

1989 Introduction. In Mesoamerica After the Decline of Teotihuacan: A.D. 700-900,
edited by Richard A. Diehl and Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Diguet, Leon
1992a Somera relación de un viaje a la vertiente occidental de México. In Por tierras
occidentales: entre sierras y barrancas, edited by Jesús Jáuregui and Jean
Meyer. Centro de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos and Instituto
Nacional Indigenista, Mexico City. [First published in 1898].

1992b Nota sobre algunas pirámides de los alrededores de Ixtlán (México). In Por
tierras occidentales: entre sierras y barrancas, edited by Jesús Jáuregui and
Jean Meyer. Centro de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos and Instituto
Nacional Indigenista, Mexico City. [First published in 1898].

Domenici, Davide
2016 Máscaras, escudos y tablas con mosaicos de turquesa en Oaxaca y Puebla.
Arqueología Mexicana 24 (141), pp. 44-49.

Drennan, Robert D.
1984a Long-Distance Transport Costs in Prehispanic Mesoamerica. American
Anthropologist 86 (1), pp. 105-111.

1984b Long-Distance Movement of Goods in the Mesoamerican Formative and

Classic. American Antiquity 49 (1), pp. 27-43.

Du Solier, Wilfrido
1936 Informe sobre algunos sitios en Michoacán: Ihuatzio, Zacapu. Departamento de
Monumentos Prehispánicos, INAH, XXVII. Mexico City. Unpublished report.

Ekholm, Gordon
1940 The Archaeology of Northern and Western Mexico. In The Maya and their
Neighbors: Essays on Middle American Anthropology and Archaeology, edited
by Clarence L. Hay, Ralph L. Linton, Harry L. Shapiro, and George. C. Vaillant.
Dover, New York.

1942 Excavations at Guasave, Sinaloa, Mexico. Anthropological Papers of the

American Museum of Natural History 38 (2), New York.
 717

Elliott, Michelle
2007 Human Occupation and Landscape Change in the Malpaso Valley, Zacatecas,
Mexico. PhD dissertation, Arizona State University.

Escobar, Armando M.
1984 Las encomiendas en la cuenca lacustre de Cuitzeo. In Michoacán en el siglo
XVI. Fimax Publicistas, Morelia.

1998 La sal como tributo en Michoacán a mediados del siglo XVI. In La sal en
México 2, edited by Juan Carlos Reyes. Universidad de Colima, Colima.

Esparza, Rodrigo
2016 The Obsidian Jewelry of the Teuchitlán Tradition: Study and Analysis of an
Unknown Lithic Technology. In Cultural Dynamics and Production Activities in
Ancient Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo Williams and Blanca Maldonado.
Archaeopress, Oxford.

Esparza, Rodrigo, and Dolores Tenorio

2004 Las redes de intercambio de la obsidiana en la Tierra Caliente de Michoacán. In
Bienes estratégicos del antiguo Occidente de México: producción e intercambio,
edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Espejel, Claudia
1992 Caminos de Michoacán y pueblos que voy pasando. INAH, Mexico City.

Estrada Balmori, Elma

1949 Funeraria en Chupícuaro. Anales del INAH III, pp. 79-84.

Estrada Balmori, Elma and Román Piña Chan

1948 Complejo funerario en Chupícuaro. In El Occidente de México: cuarta reunión
de mesa redonda. Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, Mexico City.

Evans, Susan T.
2000 Aztec Royal Pleasure Parks: Conspicuous Consumption and Elite Status Rivalry.
Studies in the History of Gardens and Landscapes 20, pp. 206-228.

2001 Aztec Noble Courts: Men, Women, and Children of the Palace. In Royal Courts
of the Ancient Maya: Theory, Comparison, and Synthesis, edited by Takeshi
Inomata and Stephen D. Houston. Westview Press, Colorado.

2004a Ancient Mexico and Central America: Archaeology and Culture History.
Thames and Hudson, New York.

2004b Aztec Palaces and Other Elite Residential Architecture. In Palaces of the
Ancient New World, edited by Susan T. Evans and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton
Oaks, Washington.

Ewald, Ursula
1997 La industria salinera en México 1560-1994. Fondo de Cultura Económica,
Mexico City.
 718

Fagan, Brian M.
1995 Ancient North America: The Archaeology of a Continent. Thames and Hudson,
New York.

Fahmel Beyer, Bernd

1988 Mesoamérica tolteca: sus cerámicas de comercio principales. UNAM, Mexico
City.

1991 La arquitectura de Monte Albán. UNAM, Mexico City.

Fash, William L.
1991 Scribes, Warriors and Kings: The City of Copán and the Ancient Maya. Thames
and Hudson, London and New York.

Faugère, Brigitte
1988 Entre nómadas y sedentarios: la zona vertiente sur del Río Lerma, en Primera
reunión sobre las sociedades prehispánicas en el centro-occidente de México,
Memoria. INAH, Centro Regional Querétaro.

1996 Entre Zacapu y Río Lerma: culturas en una zona fronteriza. Cuadernos de
Estudios Michoacanos 7. Cemca, Mexico City.

Faugère, Brigitte (editor)

2006 Cueva de Los Portales: un sitio arcaico del norte de Michoacán, México.
CEMCA, Mexico City.

2009 Sociedad y poder en el centro-norte de Mesoamérica (700-1200 d.C.): el caso

del norte de Michoacán. In Las sociedades complejas del Occidente de México
en el mundo mesoamericano: homenaje al Dr. Phil C. Weigand, edited by
Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

Faugère, Brigitte and Véronique Darras

2016 Shaft Tombs in Chupícuaro’s Funerary Practices: Architectural and Ritual
Contexts. In Shaft Tombs and Figures in West Mexican Society: A Reassessment,
edited by Christopher S. Beekman and Robert B. Pickering. Gilcrease Museum,
Tulsa.

Faugère, Brigitte, Karine Lefebvre, and Jean F. Cuenot

2016 Circulation of Goods and Communication Routes between the Acámbaro Valley
and Central Mexico: From Chupícuaro to Teotihuacan. In Cultural Dynamics
and Production Activities in Ancient Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo
Williams and Blanca Maldonado. Archaeopress, Oxford.

Feinman, Gary M.
1998 Scale and Social Organization: Perspectives on the Archaic State. In Archaic
States, edited by Gary M. Feinman and Joyce Marcus. School of American
Research Press, Santa Fe.
 719

2000 Corporate/Network: New Perspectives on Models of Political Action and the

Puebloan Southwest. In Social Theory in Archaeology, edited by Michael B.
Schiffer. The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

2006 The Economic Underpinnings of Prehispanic Zapotec Civilization. In

Agricultural Strategies, edited by Joyce Marcus and Charles Stanish. Cotsen
Institute of Archaeology, UCLA, Los Angeles.

2018 A Diachronic Perspective on the Prehispanic Ceramic Tradition of the Valley of

Oaxaca. In Ceramics of Ancient America, edited by Yumi P. Huntington, Dean
E. Arnold, and Johana Minich. University Press of Florida, Gainesville.

Feinman, Gary M., and Christopher Garraty

2010 Preindustrial Markets and Marketing: Archaeological Perspectives. Annual
Review of Anthropology 39, pp. 167-191.

Feldman, Lawrence H.
1985 A Tumpline Economy: Production and Distribution Systems in Sixteenth Century
Eastern Guatemala. Labyrinthos, Culver City.

Fisher, Christopher, Helen P. Pollard, and Charles Frederick

1999 Intensive Agriculture and Socio-Political Development in the Lake Pátzcuaro
Basin, Michoacán, Mexico. Antiquity 73, pp. 642-649.

Flannery, Kent V.
1986a The Research Problem. In Guilá Naquitz: Archaic Foraging and Early
Agriculture in Oaxaca, Mexico, edited by Kent V. Flannery. Academic Press,
Orlando.

1986b Food Procurement Area and Preceramic Diet at Guliá Naquitz. In Guilá Naquitz:
Archaic Foraging and Early Agriculture in Oaxaca, Mexico, edited by Kent V.
Flannery. Academic Press, Orlando.

1998 The Ground Plans of Archaic States. In Archaic States, edited by Gary M.
Feinman and Joyce Marcus. School of American Research Press, Santa Fe.

Florance, Charles A.
1985 Recent Work in the Chupícuaro Region. In The Archaeology of West and
Northwest Mesoamerica, edited by Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand.
Westview Press, Colorado.

1989 A Survey and Analysis of Late and Terminal Preclassic Settlement along the
Lerma River in Southeastern Guanajuato, Mexico. Doctoral dissertation,
Columbia University.

2000 The Late and Terminal Preclassic in Southeastern Guanajuato: Heartland or

Periphery? In Greater Mesoamerica: The Archaeology of West and Northwest
Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster and Shirley Gorenstein. University of Utah
Press, Salt Lake City.
 720

Flores, Dolores
1992 Ofrendas funerarias de Chupícuaro, Guanajuato. Catálogo de las colecciones
arqueológicas del Museo Nacional de Antropología. INAH, Mexico City.

Forde, Jamie E.
2016 The Polychrome Ceramics of Tututepec, Oaxaca, Mexico: Iconography and
Ideology. Ancient Mesoamerica 27 (2), pp. 389-404.

Foster, George M.
1960 Life-Expectancy of Utilitarian Pottery in Tzinztzuntzan, Michoacán, Mexico.
American Antiquity 25, pp. 606-609.

Foster, Michael S.
1999 The Aztatlán Tradition of West and Northwest Mexico at Casas Grandes:
Speculations on the Medio Period Florescence. In Greater Mesoamerica: The
Archaeology of West and Northwest Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster and
Shirley Gorenstein. The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

2017a Artifacts. In The Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and Environment of the Marismas

Nacionales, edited by Michael S. Foster. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake
City.

2017b Diet and Subsistence. In The Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and Environment of the
Marismas Nacionales, edited by Michael S. Foster. University of Utah Press,
Salt Lake City.

Foster, Michael S. (editor)

2017 The Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and Environment of the Marismas Nacionales.
University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Foster, Michael S. and Stuart D. Scott

2017a Chronology. In The Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and Environment of the
Marismas Nacionales, edited by Michael S. Foster. University of Utah Press,
Salt Lake City.

2017b Site Descriptions and Excavations. In The Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and

Environment of the Marismas Nacionales, edited by Michael S. Foster.
University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Fowler, Catherine S.
1990 Ethnographic Perspectives on Marsh-Based Cultures in Western Nevada. In
Wetland Adaptations in the Great Basin, edited by Joel C. Janetski and David B.
Madsen. Museum of Peoples and Cultures Occasional Papers 1. Bingham Young
University, Provo.

Fowler, William and Stephen D. Houston

1990 Editorial Remarks: A New Journal Based on an Old Idea. Ancient Mesoamerica
1 (1), p. 1.
 721

Fox, Robert (editor)

2008 Eyewitness to History: The First Reporters. The Folio Society, London.

Franco, Francisca, and Angelina Macías

1994 Análisis de los metales prehispánicos en Huandacareo, Michoacán In
Contribuciones a la arqueología y etnohistoria del Occidente de México, edited
byEduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Frankopan, Peter
2015 The Silk Roads: A New History of the World. Vintage Books, New York.

Freddolino, Marie K.
1973 An Investigation into the ‘Pre-Tarascan’ cultures of Zacapu, Michoacán. Ph.D.
Dissertation, Yale University. University Microfilms International, Ann Arbor.

Friedrich, Paul
1970 Agrarian Revolt in a Mexican Village. Prentice-Hall, Englewood Cliffs.

Frierman, Jay D. (editor)

1969 The Natalie Wood Collection of Pre-Columbian Ceramics at UCLA. Universty
of California, Los Angeles.

Furst, Peter T.
1965 Shaft Tombs, Shell Trumpets and Shamanism: A Cultural-History Approach to
West Mexican Archaeology. Ph.D. Dissertation. Department of Anthropology,
University of California, Los Angeles.

Gali, Ramón
1946 Arqueología de Tzintzuntzan. Anales del Museo Michoacano. Segunda época 4,
pp. 50-52.

Galván, Luis Javier

1991 Las tumbas de tiro del valle de Atamajac, Jalisco. INAH, Mexico City.

Gamio, Manuel
1928 Las excavaciones del Pedregal de San Angel y la cultura arcaica del Valle de
México. In Annals of the XX International Congress of Americanists II, Río de
Janeiro.

Gándara, Manuel
1992 La arqueología oficial mexicana: causas y efectos. INAH, Mexico City.

García Moll, Roberto, Daniel Juárez, Carmen Piojan, Ma. Elena Salas, and Marcela
Salas
1989 San Luis Tlatilco: Temporada IV. In El Preclásico o Formativo: avances y
perspectivas. Seminario de Arqueología Dr. Román Piña Chan, edited by
Martha Carmona. INAH, Mexico City.
 722

1991 San Luis Tlatilco, México: catálogo de entierros, temporada IV. INAH, Mexico
City.

García Moll, Roberto and Rafael Cobos

2009 Chichén Itzá: patrimonio de la humanidad. Grupo Azabache, Mexico City.

García Sánchez, Magdalena

2004 El modo de vida lacustre en el valle de México: ¿mestizaje o proceso de
aculturación? In Mestizajes tecnológicos y cambios culturales en México, edited
by Enrique Florescano and Virginia García Acosta. Centro de Investigaciones y
Estudios Superiores en Antropología Social, Mexico City.

Garibay, Ángel María

1995 Vida económica de Tenochtitlan: Pochtecayotl (arte de traficar). UNAM,
Mexico City.

Gasco, Janine and Frances F. Berdan

2003 International Trade Centers. In The Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by
Michael E. Smith and Frances F. Berdan. The University of Utah Press, Salt
Lake City.

Gavin, Roy
2012 The Medieval Climate Anomaly. International Environmental Data Rescue
Organization. Digital document, accessed on 28/VIII/2019
http://iedro.org/articles/the-medieval-climate-anomaly/

Gazzola, Julie
2009 Uso de cinabrio en la pintura mural de Teotihuacan. Arqueología 40, pp. 57-70.

2017 Lapidary Work at Teotihuacan. In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire,

edited by Matthew H. Robb. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco-De Young,
Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and University of California Press, Los
Angeles and San Francisco.

Giles, Sue and Jennifer Stewart (editors)

1989 The Art of Ruins: Adela Breton and the Temples of Mexico. Bristol Museum and
Galleries, Bristol.

Gillespie, Susan D.
2000 Rethinking Ancient Maya Social Organization: Replacing ‘Lineage’ with
‘House’. American Anthropologist 102 (3), pp. 467-484.

2009 Chalcatzingo, Morelos, durante el Formativo: una ‘sociedad de casas’. In Las

sociedades complejas del Occidente de México en el mundo mesoamericano:
homenaje al Dr. Phil C. Weigand, edited by Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López,
and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Giuffrida, Angela
 723

2019 Italy and China in Plan for New Silk Road-Style Trade Network. The Guardian.
Digital document, accessed on 7/5/2019.
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/mar/23/italy-china-new-silk-road-belt-and-
road-g7

Goldstein, Paul S.
2005 Andean Diaspora: The Tiwanaku Colonies and the Origins of South American
Empire. University Press of Florida, Gainesville.

2013 Embedded Andean Economic Systems and the Expansive Tiwanaku State. In
Merchants, Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World, edited by
Kenneth Hirth and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Gómez Chávez, Sergio

1998 Nuevos datos sobre la relación de Teotihuacan y el occidente de México. In
Antropología e historia del occidente de México: XXIV Mesa Redonda de la
Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, edited by Rosa Brambila. Sociedad
Mexicana de Antropología and UNAM, Mexico City.

2017 Foreigners’ Barrios at Teotihuacan: Reasons for and Consequences of

Migration. In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew H.
Robb. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco-De Young, Los Angeles County
Museum of Art, and University of California Press, Los Angeles and San
Francisco.

Gómez Chávez, Sergio, and Julie Gazzola

2007 Análisis de la relación entre Teotihuacan y el occidente de México. In
Dinámicas culturales entre el occidente, el centro-norte y la cuenca de México,
del Preclásico al Epiclásico, edited by Brigitte Faugere. El Colegio de
Michoacán and Cemca, Zamora and Mexico City.

González, Luis
1991 Michoacán: muestrario de México. Banca Promex, Guadalajara.

González, Norberto and M. Medina

1966 Localización de sitios arqueológicos en el vaso de la presa La Villita,
Michoacán-Guerrero. Boletín INAH 26, pp. 9-12.

González de Cossío, Francisco (editor)

1952 Libro de las tasaciones de pueblos de la Nueva España, siglo XVI. Archivo
General de la Nación, Mexico City.

Good, Catharine
1995 Salt Production and Commerce in Guerrero, Mexico: An Ethnographic
Contribution to Historical Reconstruction. Ancient Mesoamerica 6 (1), pp. 1-14.

Gorenstein, Shirley
1985 Settlements of the Protohistoric Tarascan Core. In The Archaeology of West and
Northwest Mesoamerica, edited by Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand.
Westview Press, Boulder.
 724

Gorenstein, Shirley and Helen P. Pollard

1983 The Tarascan Civilization: A Late Prehispanic Cultural System. Vanderbilt
University Publications in Anthropology 28, Nashville.

1991 Xanhari: Protohistoric Tarascan Routes. In Ancient Road Networks and

Settlement Hierarchies in the New World, edited by Charles D. Trombold.
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Graebner, Fritz
1924 Das Weltbild der Primitiven. Severus Verlag, Hamburg.

Graham, Elizabeth
1999 Stone Cities, Green Cities. In Complex Polities in the Ancient Tropical World,
edited by Elisabeth A. Bacus and Lisa J. Lucero. Archaeological Papers of the
American Anthropological Association 9, Arlington.

Grave, Luis Alfonso

2019 Arqueología y etnohistoria de las salinas de Escuinapa, Sinaloa. Arqueología
Mexicana 28 (158), pp. 52-57.

Greengo, Robert and Clement W. Meighan

1976 Additional Perspective on the Capacha Complex, Western Mexico. Journal of
New World Archaeology 1 (5), pp. 15-23.

Grimberg, Dora
1995 El legajo número 1204 del Archivo General de Indias: El Lienzo de Jucutacato y
las minas prehispánicas de cobre de Ario, Michoacán. In Arqueología del norte y
del occidente de México: homenaje al doctor J. Charles Kelley, edited by Barbro
Dahlgren and María D. Arechavaleta. UNAM, Mexico City.

Grosscup, Gordon L.
1961 A Sequence of Figurines from West Mexico. American Antiquity 26 (3), pp.
390-406.

1976 The Ceramic Sequence at Amapa. In The Archaeology of Amapa, Nayarit, edited
by Clement W. Meighan. Monumenta Archaeologica 2. The Institute of
Archaeology, University of California, Los Angeles.

Grove, David C.
1970 The Olmec Paintings of Oxtotitlan Cave, Guerrero Mexico. Studies in Pre-
Columbian Art and Archaeology 6. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

1974 The Highland Olmec Manifestation: A Consideration of What Is and Isn’t. In

Mesoamerican Archaeology: New Approaches, edited by Norman Hammond.
University of Texas Press, Austin.

1984 Chalcatzingo: Excavations on the Olmec Frontier. Thames and Hudson,

London.
 725

2009 Morelos, el occidente y Mesoamérica en el Preclásico temprano. In Las

sociedades complejas del Occidente de México en el mundo mesoamericano:
homenaje al Dr. Phil C. Weigand, edited by Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López
and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Guevara, Fernando
1989 Los factores físico-geográficos. In Historia general de Michoacán 1, edited by
Enrique Florescano. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán, Morelia.

Gutiérrez, Kiyo
2018 Malacates, hilado y textiles: el caso del sitio de La Peña, Jalisco, México. Latin
American Antiquity 29 (4), pp. 813-820.

Harbottle, Garman and Phil C. Weigand

1992 Turquoise in pre-Columbian America. Scientific American 266 (2), pp. 78-85.

Hardy, Karen
1994 Colecciones líticas de superficie del occidente de México. In Arqueología del
occidente de México: nuevas aportaciones, edited by Eduardo Williams and
Robert Novella. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Harris, David R.
1977 Alternative Pathways toward Agriculture. In Origins of Agriculture, edited by C.
A. Reed. Mouton, The Hage.

Harris, Marvin
1980 Culture, People, Nature: An Introduction to General Anthropology (Third
Edition). Harper and Row, New York.

Hassig, Ross
1985 Trade, Tribute, and Transportation: the Sixteenth-Century Political Economy of
the Valley of Mexico. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

1988 Aztec Warfare: Imperial Expansion and Political Control. University of

Oklahoma Press, Norman.

2008 Mesoamerica from the Olmecs to the Aztecs. In The Ancient World at War: A
Global History, edited by Philip de Souza. Thames and Hudson Ltd, London.

Headrick, Annabelle
1999 The Street of the Dead… It Really Was: Mortuary Bundles at Teotihuacan.
Ancient Mesoamerica 10, pp. 69-85.

Healan, Dan M.
1989 The Central Group and West Group. In Tula of the Toltecs: Excavations and
Survey. University of Iowa Press, Iowa City.

1993 Urbanism at Tula from the Perspective of Residential Archaeology. In

Prehispanic Domestic Units in Western Mesoamerica: Studies of the Household,
 726

Compound, and Residence, edited by Robert S. Santley and Kenneth G. Hirth.

CRC Press, Boca Raton.

1994 Producción y uso instrumental de la obsidiana en el área tarasca. In El

Michoacán antiguo: Estado y sociedad tarascos en la época prehispánica,
edited by Brigitte Boehm. El Colegio de Michoacán/ Gobierno del Estado de
Michoacán, Zamora and Morelia.

1997 Pre-Hispanic Quarrying in the Ucareo-Zinapécuaro Obsidian Source Area.

Ancient Mesoamerica 8 (1), pp. 77-99.

2004 Extracción prehispánica de obsidiana en el área de Ucareo-Zinapécuaro,

Michoacán. In Bienes estratégicos del antiguo Occidente de México: producción
e intercambio, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2005 Nuevos datos acerca del desarrollo de la tecnología de núcleos prismáticos en la

fuente de obsidiana, Ucareo, Michoacán. In El antiguo occidente de México:
nuevas perspectivas sobre el pasado prehispánico, edited by Eduardo Williams,
Phil C. Weigand, Lorenza López and David Grove. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

2011a El aprovechamiento de la obsidiana en el Occidente de México en la época

prehispánica. In Patrones de asentamiento y actividades de subsistencia:
reconocimiento a la doctora Helen P. Pollard, edited by Eduardo Williams and
Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2011b Viejos problemas y nuevas ideas sobre el urbanismo y la formación del Estado
en la Tula del Postclásico. In Mesoamérica: debates y perspectivas, edited by
Eduardo Williams, Magdalena García, Phil Weigand and Manuel Gándara. El
Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2012 The Archaeology of Tula, Hidalgo, Mexico. Journal of Archaeological Research

20, pp. 53-115.

2014 Comments to the Symposium City, Crafts, and Residence in Mesoamerica:

Papers Presented in Honor of Dan Healan. Abstracts of the 79th Annual Meeting
of the Society for American Archaeology. Society for American Archaeology,
Washington.

Healan, Dan M. (editor)

1989 Tula of the Toltecs: Excavations and Survey. University of Iowa Press, Iowa
City.

Healan, Dan, and Christine Hernández

1999 Asentamiento prehispánico y cronología cerámica en el noreste de Michoacán.
In Arqueología y etnohistoria: la región del Lerma, edited by Eduardo Williams
and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Healan, Dan M., Janet M. Kerley, and George J. Bey

 727

1983 Excavations and Preliminary Analysis of an Obsidian Workshop at Tula,

Hidalgo, Mexico. Journal of Field Archaeology 10, pp. 127-145.

Healan, Dan M., and James Stoutamire

1989 Surface Survey of the Tula Urban Zone. In Tula of the Toltecs: Excavations and
Survey, edited by Dan Healan. University of Iowa Press, Iowa City.

Heredia, Verenice, and Camilo Mireles

2016 Spatial Differences in the Distribution of Distinct Types of Scrapers in the
Tequila Region as Indicators of Task Specialization. In Cultural Dynamics and
Production Activities in Ancient Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo Williams
and Blanca Maldonado. Archaeopress, Oxford.

Hernández, Christine
2016 Ceramic Evidence of Teotihuacan Contact Linking the Basin of Mexico, the
Bajío, and Southern Hidalgo. In Cultural Dynamics and Production Activities in
Ancient Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo Williams and Blanca Maldonado.
Archaeopress, Oxford.

Hernández, Hilda
2010 Vessels for Ceremony: The Pictography of Codex-Style Mixteca-Puebla Vessels
from Central and South Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 21 (3), pp. 252-273.

Herrejón, Jorge
2009 El ritual doméstico en La Joyita B, Teuchitlán: una interpretación por análisis
químico. In Las sociedades complejas del occidente de México en el mundo
mesoamericano: homenaje al Dr. Phil C. Weigand, edited by Eduardo Williams,
Lorenza López and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Hers, Miriam
1989 Los toltecas en tierras chichimecas. UNAM, Mexico City.

Hirshman, Amy, and Christopher J. Stawski

2013 Distribution, Transportation, and the Persistence of Household Ceramic
Production in the Tarascan State. Ethnoarchaeology 5 (1), pp. 1-23.

Hirth, Kenneth G.
1978 Interregional Trade and the Formation of Prehistoric Gateway Communities.
American Antiquity 43 (1), pp. 35-45.

1992 Interregional Exchange as Elite Behavior: An Evolutionary Perspective. In

Mesoamerican Elites: An Archaeological Assessment, edited by Diane Z. Chase
and Arlen F. Chase. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

2009a Economía política prehispánica: modelos, sueños y realidad arqueológica. In

Bases de la complejidad social en Oaxaca: memoria de la Cuarta Mesa
Redonda de Monte Albán, edited by Nelly Robles García. INAH, Mexico City.
 728

2009b Craft Production, Household Diversification, and Domestic Economy in

Prehispanic Mesoamerica. In Housework: Craft Production and Domestic
Economy in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by Kenneth G. Hirth. Archaeological
Papers of the American Anthropological Association 19, Washington.

2009c Household, Workshop, Guild, and Barrio: The Organization of Obsidian Craft
Production at a Prehispanic Urban Center. In Domestic Life in Prehispanic
Capitals, edited by Linda Manzanilla and Claude Chapdelaine. Memoirs of the
Museum of Anthropology 46. University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

2013a Economic Consumption and Domestic Economy in Cholula’s Rural Hinterland,

Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 24 (2), pp. 123-148.

2013b The Merchant’s World: Commercial Diversity and the Economics of

Interregional Exchange in Highland Mesoamerica. In Merchants, Markets, and
Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World, edited by Kenneth Hirth and Joanne
Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

2016 The Aztec Economic World: Merchants and Markets in Ancient Mesoamerica.
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Hirth, Kenneth, and Deborah L. Nichols

2017 The Structure of Aztec Commerce: Markets and Merchants. In The Oxford
Handbook of the Aztecs, edited by Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-
Alegría. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Hirth, Kenneth, and Joanne Pillsbury

2013a Merchants, Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World. In Merchants,
Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World, edited by Kenneth Hirth
and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Hirth, Kenneth, and Joanne Pillsbury (editors)

2013b Merchants, Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World. Dumbarton
Oaks, Washington.

Hirth, Kenneth, David M. Carballo, Mark Dennison, and Sean Carr

2019 Excavation of an Obsidian Craft Workshop at Teotihuacan, Mexico. Ancient
Mesoamerica 30 (1), pp. 163-179.

Hodder, Ian
2006 Çatalhöyüc: The Leopard’s Tale. Thames and Hudson, London.

Hodge, Mary
1984 Aztec City-States. Memoirs of the Museum of Anthropology 18. University of
Michigan, Ann Arbor.

1996 Political Organization of the Central Provinces. In Aztec Imperial Strategies.

Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Holien, Thomas
 729

2001 Mesoamerican Pesudo-Cloisonné and Other Decorative Investments. Ph.D.

dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Southern Illinois University (fourth
edition).

Hosler, Dorothy
1985 Cultural Organization of Technology: Copper Alloys in Ancient West Mexico.
Paper read at the 50th Meeting of the Society for American Archaeology,
Denver.

1994a La metalurgia prehispánica del Occidente de México: una cronología

tecnológica. In Arqueología del Occidente de México: nuevas aportaciones,
edited by Eduardo Williams and Robert Novella. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

1994b The Sounds and Colors of Power: The Sacred Metallurgical Technology of
Ancient West Mexico. MIT Press, Cambridge.

1998 Artefactos de cobre en el Postclásico tardío mesoamericano: yacimientos,

minerales, regiones productivas y uso. In El Occidente de México: arqueología,
historia y medio ambiente, perspectivas regionales, edited by Ricardo Avila.
Universidad de Guadalajara /ORSTOM, Guadalajara.

2004 El Manchón: un sitio de fundición de cobre en la Sierra Madre del Sur,

Guerrero. In Bienes estratégicos del antiguo Occidente de México: producción e
intercambio, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2017 Aztec Metallurgy. In The Oxford Handbook of the Aztecs, edited by Deborah L.
Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-Alegría. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Hrdlicka, Ales
1903 The Region of the Ancient ‘Chichimecs’ with Notes on the Tepecanos and the
Ruins of La Quemada, Mexico. American Anthropologist 5, pp. 730-732.

Hucker, Charles O.
1975 China’s Imperial Past: An Introduction to Chinese History and Culture. Stanford
University Press, Stanford.

Jardel, Enrique J.
1994 Diversidad ecológica y transformaciones del paisaje en el Occidente de México.
In Transformaciones mayores en el Occidente de México, edited by Ricardo
Ávila. Universidad de Guadalajara, Guadalajara.

Jarquín, Ana María

2002 La Campana, Colima: recientes excavaciones y propuestas de relación con el
centro de México. Paper presented in the Simposio de Arqueología ‘El
Occidente de México en el Mundo Mesoamericano: nuevos datos, futuras
direcciones’. October 23-25. Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican
Studies, Secretaría de Cultura de Jalisco, INAH, and El Colegio de Michoacán,
Guadalajara.
 730

Jarquín, Ana María and Enrique Martínez Vargas

2018 La Campana, una zona arqueológica en Colima. Universidad de Colima, Centro
de Medios Didácticos, Colima. Digital document, viewed on 5/9/2019.
http://ceupromed.ucol.mx/nucleum/el%20paseo/presentacion.asp

Jáuregui, Jesús
1992 La antropología de Diguet sobre el occidente de México. In Por tierras
occidentales: entre sierras y barrancas, edited by Jesús Jáuregui and Jean
Meyer. Cemca and Instituto Nacional Indigenista, Mexico City.

Jay, Jane S.
1998 The West Mexican Ball Game. In Ancient west Mexico: Art and Archaeology of
the Unknown Past, edited by Richard F. Townsend. The Art Institute of
Chicago, Chicago.

Jiménez Betts, Peter

2018 Orienting West Mexico: The Mesoamerican World System 200-1200 CE.
Gotarc Series B. Gothenburg Archaeology Theses-71. University of Gothenburg.

Jiménez Moreno, Wigberto

1959 Síntesis de la historia pre-tolteca de Mesoamérica. In Esplendor del México
antiguo, edited by Carmen Cook de Leonard. Centro de Investigaciones
Antropológicas de México, Mexico City.

Joyce, Arthur A., Andrew G. Workinger, Byron Hamann, and Peter Kroefges
2004 Lord 8 Deer ‘Jaguar Claw’ and the Land of the Sky: The Archaeology and
History of Tututepec. Latin American Antiquity 15 (3), pp. 273-297.

Kelley, J. Charles
1971 Archaeology of the Northern Frontier: Zacatecas and Durango. In Handbook of
Middle-American Indians 11, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas
Press, Austin.

1974 Speculations on the Culture History of Northwestern Mesoamerica. In The

Archaeology of West Mexico, edited by Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for
Advanced Study, Ajijic.

1990 The Early Postclassic in Northern Zacatecas and Durango: IX to XII Centuries.
In Mesoamérica y norte de México: siglo IX-XII, edited by Federica Sodi.
INAH, Mexico City.

2000 The Aztatlán Mercantile System: Mobile Traders and the Northwestward
Expansion of Mesoamerican Civilization. In Greater Mesoamerica: The
Archaeology of West and Northwest Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster and
Shirley Gorenstein. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

2002 An Archaeological Reappraisal of the Tula-Toltec Concept, As Viewed from

Northwestern Mesoamerica. In Homenaje al Dr. John Charles Kelley, edited by
 731

María Teresa Cabrero, Jaime Litvak King, and Peter Jiménez. UNAM, Mexico
City.

Kelley, J. Charles, and Howard D. Winters

1960 A Revision of the Archaeological Sequence in Sinaloa, Mexico. American
Antiquity 25, pp. 547-561.

Kelly, Isabel T.
1938 Excavations at Chametla, Sinaloa. Ibero-Americana 14. University of California
Press, Berkeley.

1945 Excavations at Culiacán, Sinaloa. Ibero-Americana 25. University of California

Press, Berkeley.

1947 Excavations at Apatzingán, Michoacán. Viking Fund Publications in

Anthropology 7, New York.

1948 Ceramic Provinces in Northwest Mexico. In El Occidente de México: cuarta

reunión de mesa redonda. Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, Mexico City.

1970 Vasijas de Colima con boca de estribo. Boletín INAH 42, pp. 26-31.

1974 Stirrup Pots from Colima: Some Implications. In The Archaeology of West
Mexico, edited by Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

1978 Seven Colima Tombs: An Interpretation of Ceramic Content. In Contributions of

the University of California Archaeological Research Facility 36. University of
California, Department of Anthropology, Berekeley.

1980 Ceramic Sequence in Colima: Capacha, an Early Phase. Anthropological

Papers of the University of Arizona 27. Tucson.

1985 Some Gold and Silver Artifacts from Colima. In The Archaeology of West and
Northwest Mesoamerica, edited by Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand.
Westview Press, Boulder.

2008 Excavaciones en Culiacán, Sinaloa. Siglo XXI Editores, El Colegio de Sinaloa,

Conaculta, and INAH, Mexico City. [Original English edition 1945].

Kidder, Alfred V., Jesse D. Jennings, and Edwin M. Shook

1946 Excavations at Kaminaljuyu, Guatemala. The Pennsylvania University Press,
University Park and London.

King, Timothy B.
2015 The Case for the Aztec Goldsmith. Ancient Mesoamerica 26 (2), pp. 313-328.

Kirchhoff, Paul
1943 Mesoamérica: sus límites geográficos, composición étnica y caracteres
culturales. Acta Americana 1, pp. 92-107.
 732

1954 Gatherers and Farmers of the Greater Southwest: A Problem in Classification.

American Anthropologist 45 (4), pp. 529-560.

Kowalewski, Stephen A.
2009 Interacción cultural entre el Occidente, Oaxaca, y otras regiones del sistema
mundial mesoamericano. In Las sociedades complejas del occidente de México
en el mundo mesoamericano, edited by Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López, and
Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Kowalewski, Stephen, Gary M. Feinman and Laura Finstein

1992 'The Elite' and Assessment of Social Stratification in Mesoamerican
Archaeology. In Mesoamerican Elites: An Archaeological Assessment, edited by
Diane Z. Chase and Arlen F. Chase. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

Kroeber, Alfred
1939 Cultural and Natural Areas of Native North America. University of California
Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 38. University of
California Press, Berkeley.

1948 Anthropology: Race, Language, Culture, Psychology, Prehistory. Harcourt,

Brace and Co., New York.

Krotser, Paula H.
1981 Veracruz: corredor hacia el sureste. In Interacción cultural en México central,
edited by Evelyn C. Ratttray, Jaime Litvak, and Clara Díaz. UNAM, Mexico
City.

Kubler, George
1984 The Art and Architecture of Ancient America: The Mexican, Maya and Andean
Peoples. Pelican Books, London.

Langenscheidt, Adolphus
2006 La minería en la Sierra Gorda. Arqueología Mexicana 77, pp.46-52.

Lansing, J. Stephen
1987 Balinese Water Temples and the Management of Irrigation. American
Anthropologist 89 (2), pp. 326-341.

Lapham, Heather A., Gary M. Feinman, and Linda M. Nicholas

2016 Turkey Husbandry and Use in Oaxaca, Mexico. Journal of Archaeological
Science 10, pp. 534-546.

Lee, Richard and Irven de Vore (editors)

1968 Man the Hunter. Aldine Transaction, New Brunswick.

León, Nicolás
1888 Las yácatas de Tzintzuntzan. Anales del Museo Michoacano 1, pp. 65-70.

1903 Los tarascos: notas históricas, étnicas y antropológicas. Anales del Museo
Nacional de México. Segunda época 1, pp. 392-502.
 733

Leone, Mark, Parker B. Potter, and Paul A. Shackel

1987 Toward a Critical Archaeology. Current Anthropology 28 (3), pp. 283-302.

Levine, Marc N.
2007 The Tututepc Archaeological Project: Residential Excavations on the Coast of
Oaxaca, Mexico. Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies,
Inc. Digital document, accessed 28 February 2019
http://www.famsi.org/reports/05031/index.html

2017 Tututepec: A Mixtec Imperial Capital in Southern Oaxaca. In The Oxford

Handbook of the Aztecs, edited by Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-
Alegría. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Levine, Marc N., Lane F. Fargher, Leslie G. Cecil, and Jamie E. Forde
2015 Polychrome Pottery Economics and Ritual Life in Postclassic Oaxaca, Mexico.
Latin American Antiquity 26 (3), pp. 319-340.

Lieto, Joshua, Helen P. Pollard, and A. Daniel Jones

2019 Cahequa del rey: evidencia arqueológica y lingüística del uso del cacao en el
Postclásico de Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán, México. Arqueología Iberoamericana
41, pp. 30-40.

Lind, Michael D.
1994 Cholula and Mixteca Polychromes: Two Mixteca-Puebla Regional Sub-Styles.
In Mixteca-Puebla: Discoveries and Research in Mesoamerican Art and
Archaeology, edited by Henry B. Nicholson and Eloise Quiñones Keber.
Labyrinthos, Culver City.

Liot, Catherine
1995 Evidencias arqueológicas de producción de sal en la Cuenca de Sayula (Jalisco):
relación con el medio físico, estudio de tecnología. In La sal en México, edited
by Juan Carlos Reyes. Conaculta, Colima.

2000 Les salines préhispaniques du bassin de Sayula (Occident de Mexique): Milieu

et techniques. BAR International Series 849. British Archaeological Reports,
Oxford.

2005 La cerámica especializada de producción de sal. In Arqueología de la cuenca de

Sayula, edited by Francisco Valdez, Otto Schöndube, and Jean P. Emphoux.
Universidad de Guadalajara and Institut de Recherche pour le Development,
Guadalajara.

Liot, Catherine and Otto Schöndube

2005 Medio ambiente y recursos de la cuenca. In Arqueología de la cuenca de Sayula,
edited by Francisco Valdez, Otto Schöndube, and Jean P. Empoux. Universidad
de Guadalajara, Guadalajara.

Lira, Yamile
 734

1995 El palacio del Edificio de las Columnas en El Tajín. In El Tajín: estudios

monográficos. Universidad Veracruzana, Xalapa.

Lister, Robert H.
1948 Summary of Excavations at Cojumatlán, Michoacán. In El Occidente de México:
cuarta reunión de mesa redonda. Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, Mexico
City.

1949 Excavations at Cojumatlán, Michoacán, Mexico. University of New Mexico

Publications in Anthropology 1. Albuquerque.

1951 Book Review: Surface Archaeology of Ixtlán del Río, Nayarit (by E. W.
Gifford). American Antiquity 17 (1), p. 67.

Litvak King, Jaime

1968 Excavaciones de rescate en La Villita. Boletín del INAH 31, pp.38-40.

1975 En torno al problema de la definición de Mesoamérica. Anales de Antropología

XII, pp. 171-195.

1985 Ancient Mexico: An Overview. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.

1992 Nota a la segunda edición. In Una definición de Mesoamérica. UNAM, Mexico

City.

Lombardo, Sonia
1990 Le quotidien sublimé dans la terre quite. In Art Precolombien du Mexique.
Reunion des Musees Nationaux, Paris.

Long, Stanley V.
1966 Archaeology of the Municipio of Etzatlán, Jalisco. Ph.D. Dissertation.
University of California, Los Angeles.

Longacre, Robert E.
1967 Systematic Comparison and Reconstruction. In Handbook of Middle-American
Indians 5, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.

López, Lorenza
2004 El intercambio de concha en el occidente de México durante el Preclásico tardío
y el Clásico temprano. In Bienes estratégicos del antiguo Occidente de México:
producción e intercambio, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

López, Lorenza and Jorge Ramos

1994 Tumba de tiro en Huitzilapa, Jalisco. Arqueología Mexicana 2 (7), pp. 59-61.

1998 Excavating the Tomb at Huitzilapa. In Ancient west Mexico: Art and
Archaeology of the Unknown Past, edited by Richard F. Townsend. The Art
Institute of Chicago, Chicago.
 735

López Austin, Alfredo, and Leonardo López Luján

2017 State Ritual and Religion in the Sacred Precinct of Tenochtitlan. In The Oxford
Handbook of the Aztecs, edited by Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-
Alegría. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

López Luján, Leonardo

1995 Xochicalco: el lugar de la casa de las flores. In Xochicalco y Tula: Corpus
precolombino, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma. Consejo Nacional para la
Cultura y las Artes and Editoriale Jaca Book, Mexico City and Milan.

López Luján, Leonardo, Jorge Talavera, María T. Olivera, and José L. Ruvalcaba
2015 Azcapotzalco y los orfebres de Moctezuma. Arqueología Mexicana 23 (136), pp.
50-59.

Lumholtz, Carl
1902 Unknown Mexico: A Record of Five Years' Exploration among the Tribes of the
Western Sierra Madre; in the Tierra Caliente of Tepic and Jalisco; and among
the Tarascos of Michoacan. C. Scribner’s Sons, New York.

1986 El México desconocido: cinco años de exploración entre las tribus de la Sierra
Madre Occidental, en la tierra caliente de Tepic y Jalisco, y entre los tarascos
de Michoacán. Instituto Nacional Indigenista, Mexico City.

Macías Goytia, Angelina

1988 La arqueología en Michoacán. In La antropología en México: panorama
histórico, edited by Carlos García Mora and Martha Mejía. Biblioteca del INAH
13. INAH, Mexico City.

1989 La cuenca de Cuitzeo. In Historia general de Michoacán 1, edited by Enrique

Florescano. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán, Morelia.

1990 Huandacareo: lugar de juicios, tribunal. Colección Científica 222. INAH,

Mexico City.

1994 Antes de la conquista en una región de Michoacán. Barro Nuevo (edición

especial), pp. 31-40.

1997 Tres Cerritos en el desarrollo social prehispánico de Cuitzeo. Doctoral thesis,

UNAM, Mexico City.

1998 Cuitzeo: continuidad y estructura en Michoacán. Unpublished manuscript,

Center for Archaeological Research, El Colegio de Michoacán, La Piedad.

Macías Goytia, Angelina and Katina Vackimes

1988 Tres Cerritos, Cuitzeo, Michoacán. In Primera reunión sobre las sociedades
prehispánicas en el centro-occidente de México: memoria. Cuaderno de trabajo
1. Centro Regional INAH, Querétaro.

MacKinnon, J. Jefferson and Susan M. Kepecs

 736

1989 Prehispanic Saltmaking in Belize: New Evidence. American Antiquity 54 (3), pp.
522-533.

MacNeish, Richard S.
1964 The Origins of New World Civilization. In New World Archaeology: Readings
from Scientific American, edited by Ezra B. W. Zubrow, Margaret C. Fritz, and
John M. Fritz. W. H. Freeman and Company, San Francisco.

1967 A Summary of the Subsistence. In Environment and Subsistence: The Prehistory

of the Tehuacan Valley 1, edited by Douglas S. Byers. University of Texas Press,
Austin.

1981 The Transition to Statehood As Seen from the Mouth of a Cave. In The
Transition to Statehood in the New World, edited by Grant D. Jones and Robert
R. Kautz. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

MacNeish, Richard S. and Mary W. Eubanks

2000 Comparative Analysis of the Rio Balsas and Tehuacan Models for the Origin of
Maize. Latin American Antiquity 11 (1), pp. 3-20.

Maderey, Laura Elena and Genaro Correa

1974 Hidrografía. In Geografía del estado de Michoacán 1, edited by Genaro Correa.
Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán, Morelia.

Maldonado, Blanca
2011 Los contextos domésticos de la producción metalúrgica purépecha en el
Michoacán prehispánico. In Patrones de asentamiento y actividades de
subsistencia, reconocimiento a la doctora Helen P. Pollard, edited by Eduardo
Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2018 Tarascan Copper Metallurgy: A Multi-Approach Perspective. Archaeopress,

Oxford.

Mangelsdorf, Paul, Richard S. McNeish and Gordon R. Willey

1964 Origins of Agriculture in Middle America. In Handbook of Middle-American
Indians, edited by Robert Wauchope, Vol. I. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Manzanilla, Linda
1992 The Economic Organization of the Teotihuacan Priesthood: Hypotheses and
Considerations. In Art, Ideology, and the City of Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C.
Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

1993 Daily Life in the Teotihuacan Apartment Compunds. In Teotihuacan: Art from
the City of the Gods, edited by Kathleen Berrin and Esther Pasztory. Thames and
Hudson, London.

2011 Sistemas de control de mano de obra y del intercambio de bienes suntuarios en

el corredor teotihuacano hacia la costa del Golfo en el Clásico. Anales de
Antropología 45, pp. 9-32.
 737

2012 Neighborhoods and Elite ‘Houses’ at Teotihuacan, Central Mexico. In The

Neighborhood as a Social and Spatial Unit in Mesoamerican Cities, edited by
M. Charlotte Arnauld, Linda R. Manzanilla, and Michael E. Smith. The
University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

2016 Los conjuntos departamentales teotihuacanos. Arqueología Mexicana XXIV

(140), pp. 53-60.

2017a Teotihuacan: ciudad excepcional de Mesoamérica. Opúsculos de El Colegio

Nacional, Mexico City.

2017b Teotihuacan Apartment Compounds, Neighborhood Centers, and Palace

Structures. In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew H.
Robb. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco-De Young, Los Angeles County
Museum of Art, and University of California Press, Los Angeles and San
Francisco.

2018a Introducción. In Teopancazco como centro de barrio multiétnico de

Teotihuacan, edited by Linda Manzanilla. UNAM, Mexico City.

2018b Recapitulación. In Teopancazco como centro de barrio multiétnico de

Teotihuacan, edited by Linda Manzanilla. UNAM, Mexico City.

2019 Teopancazco: un centro de barrio multiétnico en Teotihuacan. Arqueología

Mexicana 27 (157), pp. 28-35.

Manzanilla, Rubén
1988 Salvamento arqueológico en Loma de Santa María, Morelia, Michoacán. In
Primera reunión sobre las sociedades prehispánicas en el centro-occidente de
México, Memoria. INAH, Centro Regional Querétaro, Querétaro.

2008 La región arqueológica de la Costa Grande de Guerrero. INAH, Mexico City.

Mapelli, Carlotta
1993 La plumaria en la época actual. In El arte plumaria en México, edited by Teresa
Castelló. Fomento Cultural Banamex, Mexico City.

Marcus, Joyce
1983 On the Nature of the Mesoamerican City. In Prehistoric Settlement Patterns:
Essays in Honor of Gordon R. Willey, edited by E. Z. Vogt and R. M. Leventhal.
University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.

1984 Introduction. In Aztec City-States. Memoirs of the Museum of Anthropology 18.

University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.
 738

1989 From Centralized Systems to City-States: Possible Models for the Epiclassic. In
Mesoamerica After the Decline of Teotihuacan: A.D. 700-900, edited by Richard
A. Diehl and Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

1992 Mesoamerican Writing Systems: Propaganda, Myth, and History in Four

Ancient Civilizations. Princeton University Press, Princeton.

2003 Monte Alban’s Tomb 7. In The Cloud People: Divergent Evolution of the
Zapotec and Mixtec Civilizations, edited by Kent V. Flannery and Joyce Marcus.
Percheron Press, Clinton Corners.

2009 Understanding Houses, Compounds, and Neighborhoods. In Domestic Life in

Prehispanic Capitals: A Study of Specialization, Hierarchy, and Ethnicity,
edited by Linda Manzanilla and Claude Chapdelaine. Memoirs of the Museum
of Anthropology 46. University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

Marcus, Joyce and Gary M. Feinman

1998 Introduction. In Archaic States, edited by Gary M. Feinman and Joyce Marcus.
School of American Research Press, Santa Fe.

Marcus, Joyce and Kent V. Flannery

1996 Zapotec Civilization: How Urban Society Evolved in Mexico’s Oaxaca Valley.
Thames and Hudson, New York.

Marcus, Joyce and Kent V. Flannery

2003 The Postclassic Balkanization of Oaxaca: An Introduction to the Late
Postclassic. In The Cloud People: Divergent Evolution of the Zapotec and
Mixtec Civilizations, edited by Kent V. Flannery and Joyce Marcus. Percheron
Press, Clinton Corners.

Margain, Carlos R.
1971 Pre-Columbian Architecture of Central Mexico. In Handbook of Middle-
American Indians 10, edited by Robert Wauchope, Gordon F. Ekholm, and
Ignacio Bernal. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Marquina, Ignacio
1951 Arquitectura prehispánica. Memorias del Instituto Nacional de Antropología e
Historia 1. INAH, Mexico City.

1970 Pirámide de Cholula. In Proyecto Cholula, edited by Ignacio Marquina. INAH,

Mexico City.

Marquina, Ignacio (editor)

1970 Proyecto Cholula. INAH, Mexico City.

Martínez Donjuan, Guadalupe

1994 Los olmecas en el estado de Guerrero. In Los olmecas en Mesoamérica, edited
by John Clark. El Equilibrista and Turner Libros, Mexico City and Madrid.
 739

Mastache, Guadalupe, and Robert Cobean

1989 The Coyotlatelco Culture and the Origins of the Toltec State. In Mesoamerica
After the Decline of Teotihuacan: A.D. 700-900, edited by Richard A. Diehl and
Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Mastache, Guadalupe, Robert Cobean, and Dan Healan

2002 Ancient Tollan: Tula and the Toltec Heartland. University Press of Colorado,
Boulder.

Mathien, Frances J.
2001 The Organization of Turquoise Production and Consumption by the Prehistoric
Chacoans. American Antiquity 66 (1), pp. 103-118.

Matos, Eduardo
1981 Una visita al Templo Mayor. INAH, Mexico City.

1982 El Templo Mayor: excavaciones y estudios. INAH, Mexico City.

Matos, Eduardo and Isabel Kelly

1974 Una vasija que sugiere relaciones entre Teotihuacán y Colima. In The
Archaeology of West Mexico, edited by Betty Bell. Sociedad de Estudios
Avanzados del Occidente de México. Ajijic.

Matthews, Roger
2007 Uruk-Warka, Iraq. Current World Archaeology 23. Digital document, accessed
on 2/5/2019.
https://www.world-archaeology.com/features/uruk-warqa-iraq/

McBride, Harold W.
1969 The Extent of the Chupícuaro Tradition. In The Natalie Wood Collection of Pre-
Columbian Ceramics at UCLA, edited by Jay D. Frierman. Universty of
California, Los Angeles.

1975 Cerámica de estilo teotihuacano en Colima. Anales del INAH 7 (IV), pp. 37-44.

McCafferty, Geoffrey
1996a Reinterpreting the Great Pyramid of Cholula, Mexico. Ancient Mesoamerica 7
(1), pp. 1-17.

1996b The Ceramics and Chronology of Cholula, Mexico. Ancient Mesoamerica 7 (2),
pp. 299-323.

2001 Ceramics of Postclassic Cholula, Mexico. Monograph 43, The Cotsen Institute
of Archaeology, University of California, Los Angeles.

McCafferty, Geoffrey and Sharisse McCafferty

2008 Spinning and Weaving Tools from Santa Isabel, Nicaragua. Ancient
Mesoamerica 19 (1), pp. 143-156.

McCafferty, Geoffrey and Larry Steinbrenner

 740

2005 The Meaning of the Mixteca-Puebla Stylistic Tradition: The View from
Nicaragua. In Art for Archaeology’s Sake: Material Culture and Style across the
Disciplines, edited by Andrea Waters. University of Calgary, Calgary.

McCafferty, Sharisse, and Geoffrey McCafferty

2000 Textile Production in Postclassic Cholula, Mexico. Ancient Mesoamerica 11 (1),
pp. 39-54.

McClung, Emily
1984 Ecología y cultura en Mesoamérica (second edition). UNAM, Mexico City.

1987 Patrones de subsistencia urbana en Teotihuacan. In Teotihuacan: nuevos datos,

nuevas síntesis, nuevos problemas, edited by Emily McClung and Evelyn C.
Rattray. UNAM, Mexico City.

McEwan, Colin, Andrew Middleton, Carolyn Cartwright, and Rebecca Stacey

2006 Turquoise Mosaics from Mexico. Duke University Press, Durham.

McGee, John L.
1980 Los seris: Sonora México. Instituto Nacional Indigenista, Mexico City.

McGuire, Randall H.
1996 The Limits of World-Systems Theory for the Study of Prehistory. In Pre-
Columbian World Systems, edited by Peter N. Peregrine and Gary M. Feinman.
Monographs in World Archaeology 26. Prehistory Press. Madison, Wisconsin.

Meighan, Clement W.
1969 Cultural Similarities between West Mexico and Andean Regions. In Pre-
Columbian Contact within Nuclear America, edited by J. Charles Kelley and
Carroll L. Riley. Mesoamerican Studies 4, Southern Illinois University,
Carbondale.

1971 Archaeology of Sinaloa. In Handbook of Middle-American Indians 11, edited by

Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.

1972 Archaeology of the Morett Site, Colima. University of California Publications in

Anthropology 7, Berkeley and Los Angeles.

1974 Prehistory of West Mexico. Science 184, pp. 1254-1261.

1976 The Archaeology of Amapa, Nayarit. In The Archaeology of Amapa, Nayarit,

edited by Clement W. Meighan. Monumenta Archaeologica 2. The Institute of
Archaeology, University of California at Los Angeles.

Meighan, Clement W. (editor)

1976 The Archaeology of Amapa, Nayarit. Monumenta Archaeologica 2. The Institute
of Archaeology, University of California at Los Angeles.

Meighan, Clement W. and Leonard J. Foote

 741

1968 Excavations at Tizapan El Alto, Jalisco. Latin American Studies 11. Latin
American Center, University of California, Los Angeles.

Meighan, Clement, Leonard J. Foote, and Paul V. Aiello

1968 Obsidian Dating in West Mexican Archaeology. Science 160, pp. 1069-1075.

Meighan, Clement W. and Henry B. Nicholson

1970 The Ceramic Mortuary Offerings of Prehistoric West Mexico: An
Archaeological Perspective. In Sculpture of Ancient West Mexico, Nayarit,
Jalisco, Colima: The Proctor-Stafford Collection. Los Angeles County Museum
of Art, Los Angeles.

Melgar Tisoc, Emiliano

2014 Comercio, tributo y producción de las turquesas del Templo Mayor de
Tenochtitlan. PhD Thesis, Facultad de Filosofía y Letras. UNAM, Mexico City.

2016 Las turquesas en el Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan. Arqueología Mexicana 24

(141), pp. 68-73.

Melgar Tisoc, Emiliano and Reyna B. Solís

2018 Caracterización mineralógica y tecnológica de la lapidaria de Teopancazco. In
Teopancazco como centro de barrio multiétnico de Teotihuacan, edited by Linda
Manzanilla. UNAM, Mexico City.

Melville, Elinor
1994 A Plague of Sheep: Environmental Consequences of the Conquest of Mexico.
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Mena, Ramón and Porfirio Aguirre

1927 La nueva zona arqueológica: exploraciones del Museo Nacional. Revista
Mexicana de Estudios Antropológicos 1 (2), pp. 55-64.

Méndez Acevedo, J.
1999 Memoria histórica de Aquila. Cronos (local newspaper, Coalcomán, Michoacán).

Mendizábal, Miguel O.
1928 Influencia de la sal en la distribución geográfica de los grupos indígenas de
México. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Historia y Etnografía, Mexico City.

Michelet, Dominique
1989 La parte occidente de Michoacán. In Historia general de Michoacán, edited by
Enrique Florescano. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán, Morelia.

1990 El centro-norte de Michoacán en el Clásico: algunas reflexiones. In La época

Clásica: nuevos hallazgos, nuevas ideas, edited by Amalia Cardós de Méndez.
INAH/ Museo Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City.

1998 Topografía y prospección sistemática de los grandes asentamientos del Malpaís

de Zacapu. In Génesis, culturas y espacios en Michoacán, edited by Véronique
Darras. Cemca, Mexico City.
 742

Michelet, Dominique, Grégory Pereira, and Gérald Migeon

2005 La llegada de los Uacúsechas a la región de Zacapu, Michoacán: datos
arqueológicos y discusión. In Reacomodos demográficos del Clásico al
Postclásico en el centro de México, edited by Linda Manzanilla. UNAM,
Mexico City.

Millhouser, John K.
2002 Malpaso Valley Obsidian Exchange. Archaeology Southwest 16 (1), p. 9.

Millon, René
1957 Review of the book La cerámica arqueológica de Cholula, by E. Noguera. Latin
American Antiquity 23 (1), pp. 92-93.

1981 Teotihuacan: City, State, Civilization. In Handbook of Middle-American

Indians, Supplement 1: Archaeology, edited by Victoria R. Bricker. University
of Texas Press, Austin.

1988 The Last Years of Teotihuacan Dominance. In The Collapse of Ancient States
and Civilizations, edited by Norman Yoffee and George L. Cowgill. The
University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

1993 The Place Where Time Began: An Archaeologist’s Interpretation of

Teotihuacan’s History. In Teotihuacan: Art from the City of the Gods, edited by
Kathleen Berrin and Esther Pasztory. Thames and Hudson, London.

Moedano, Hugo
1946 La cerámica de Zinapécuaro, Michoacán. Anales del Museo Michoacano 2, pp.
39-49.

Mountjoy, Joseph B.
1974 San Blas Complex Ecology. In The Archaeology of West Mexico, edited by
Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

1982 Proyecto Tomatlán de salvamento arqueológico. Colección Científica,

Arqueología 122. INAH, Mexico City.

1987 The Collapse of the Classic at Cholula as Seen from Cerro Zapotecas. Notas
Mesoamericanas 10, pp. 119-145.

1990 El desarrollo de la cultura Aztatlán en el Occidente de México visto desde su

frontera suroeste. In Mesoamérica y norte de México siglos IX-XIII: seminario
de arqueología Wigberto Jiménez Moreno, edited by Federica Sodi Miranda.
INAH, Mexico City.

1994a Capacha: una cultura enigmática del Occidente de México. Arqueología

Mexicana 2 (9), pp. 39-42.
 743

1994b Las tres transformaciones más importantes en la habitación indígena de la costa

del Occidente de México. In Transformaciones mayores en el Occidente de
México, edited by Ricardo Ávila. Universidad de Guadalajara, Guadalajara.

1995 Some Important Resources for Prehispanic Cultures on the Coast of West
Mexico. In The Gran Chichimeca: Essays on the Archaeology and Ethnohistory
of Northern Mesoamerica, edited by Jonathan Reyman. Avebury Press,
Aldershot and Brookfield.

2000 Prehispanic Cultural Development along the Southern Coast of West Mexico. In
Greater Mesoamerica: The Archaeology of West and Northwest Mexico, edited
by Michael S. Foster and Shirley Gorenstein. The University of Utah Press, Salt
Lake City.

2012 El Pantano y otros sitios del Formativo tardío en el Valle de Mascota, Jalisco.
Secretaría de Cultura del Gobierno de Jalisco, Guadalajara.

2015 La colonización del lejano occidente de México. Revista Occidente (junio 2015),
pp. 1-18.

Mountjoy, Joseph, Favio Germán, Cupul Magaña, and Lorenza López

2016 The Early Postclassic Aztatlán Colonization of the Coast of Jalisco, Mexico.
Paper Presented at the 81st. Annual Meeting of the Society for American
Archaeology. Orlando, Florida.

Mountjoy, Joseph B. and Jill A. Rhodes

2018 Es complicado: 1,200 años de tumbas de tiro y cámara en el noroeste de Jalisco,
México. Latin American Antiquity 29 (1), pp. 85-101.

Muller, Florencia
1970 La cerámica de Cholula. In Proyecto Cholula, edited by Ignacio Marquina.
INAH, Mexico City.

1977 ¿Qué significado tiene la distribución de los elementos teotihuacanos en

Guerrero? In Los procesos de cambio (Mesoamérica y áreas circunvecinas). XV
Mesa Redonda, Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, Mexico City.

1978 La alfarería de Cholula. INAH, Mexico City.

1990 La cerámica de Cuicuilco B: un rescate arqueológico. Colección Científica 186.

INAH, Mexico City.

Multhaulf, Robert P.
1978 Neptune’s Gift: A History of Common Salt. Johns Hopkins University Press,
Baltimore.

Nelson, Ben A.
2004 Elite Residences in West Mexico. In Palaces of the Ancient New World, edited
by Susan T. Evans and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.
 744

Nelson, Ben, Elisa Villalpando, José L. Punzo, and Paul E. Minnis

2015 Prehispanic Northwest and Adjacent West Mexico, 1200BC-AD 1400: An Inter-
Regional Perspective. Kiva: Journal of Southwestern Anthropology and History
81, pp. 31-61.

Nichols, Deborah L.
2013 Merchants and Merchandise: The Archaeology of Aztec Commerce at Otumba,
Mexico. In Merchants, Markets, and Exchange in the Pre-Columbian World,
edited by Kenneth Hirth and Joanne Pillsbury. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

2015 Intensive Agriculture and Early Complex Societies of the Basin of Mexico: The
Formative Period. Ancient Mesoamerica 26 (2), pp. 407-421.

Nichols, Deborah, Hector Neff, and George L. Cowgill

2013 Cerro Portezuelo: States and Hinterlands in the Pre-Hispanic Basin of Mexico.
Ancient Mesoamerica 24 (1), pp. 47-72.

Nicholson, Henry B.
1973 Eduard Georg Seler, 1849-1922. In Handbook of Middle American Indians 13,
edited by Robert Wauchope and Howard F. Cline. University of Texas Press,
Austin.

1981 The Mixteca-Puebla Concept in Mesoamerican Archaeology: A Re-

Examination. In Ancient Mesoamerica: Selected Readings, edited by John A.
Graham. Peek Publications, Palo Alto. [First published in 1960].

1982 The Mixteca-Puebla Concept Revisited. In The Art and Iconography of Late
Post-Classic Central Mexico, edited by Elizabeth H. Boone. Dumbarton Oaks,
Washington.

Nicholson, Henry B., and Clement W. Meighan

1974 The UCLA Department of Anthropology Program in West Mexican
Archaeology and Ethnohisory. In The Archaeology of West Mexico, edited by
Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

Nicholson, Henry B. and Eloise Quiñones

1994 Introduction. In Mixteca-Puebla: Discoveries and Research in Mesoamerican
Art and Archaeology, edited by Henry B. Nicholson and Eloise Quiñones.
Labyrinthos, Culver City.

Niederberger, Christine
1976 Zohapilco: cinco milenios de ocupación humana en un sitio lacustre de la
cuenca de México. Colección Científica 30. Instituto Nacional de Antropología e
Historia, Mexico City.

1981 Early Sedentary Economy in the Basin of Mexico. In Ancient Mesoamerica:

Selected Readings, edited by John Graham. Peek Publications, Palo Alto.

1987 Paleopaysages et archeologie pre-urbaine du Basin de Mexico. Centro de

Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos, Mexico City.
 745

Nielsen, Jasper, and Christophe Helmke

2017 Of Gods and Rituals: The Religion of Teotihuacan. In Teotihuacan: City of
Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew H. Robb. Fine Arts Museums of San
Francisco-De Young, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and University of
California Press, Los Angeles and San Francisco.

Noguera, Eduardo
1927 Los altares de sacrificio de Tizatlán, Tlaxcala. In Ruinas de Tizatlán, Tlaxcala:
antecedentes históricos de Tlaxcala, edited by Agustín García Vega.
Publicaciones de la Secretaría de Educación Pública 15 (11), Mexico City.

1931 Exploraciones arqueológicas en la región de Zamora y Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

Anales del Museo Nacional de Antropología, Historia y Etnografía Época IV-
VIII, pp. 89-103.

1944 Exploraciones en Jiquilpan. Anales del Museo Michoacano Época 2 (3), pp. 37-
52.

1954 La cerámica arqueológica de Cholula. Editorial Guaranía, Mexico City.

1975 La cerámica arqueológica de Mesoamérica (second edition). UNAM, Mexico

City.

1993 Exploraciones en Jiquilpan. Anales del Museo Michoacano 2 (3), pp. 37-52.

Noyola, Andrés
1994 La cerámica de Atoyac, Jalisco: estudio preliminar. In Contribuciones a la
arqueología y etnohistoria del Occidente de México, edited by Eduardo
Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Nuttall, Zelia (editor)

1975 The Codex Nuttall: A Picture Manuscript from Ancient Mexico. Dover
Publications, New York.

O'Hara, Sarah
1993 Historical Evidence of Fluctuations in the Level of Lake Pátzcuaro, Michoacán,
México over the Last 600 Years. Geographical Journal 159 (1), p. 51.

Olay, Ángeles
2001a El occidente mesoamericano. In Descubridores del pasado en Mesoamérica,
edited by Lucinda Gutierrez and Gabriela Pardo. Océano, DGE Ediciones,
Turner Publicaciones, Mexico City.

2001b La arqueología de Colima. Arqueología Mexicana (edición especial) 9, pp. 6-11.

2004a El Chanal, Colima: lugar que habitaron los custodios del agua. Universidad de
Colima and INAH, Colima and Mexico City.
 746

2004b Los amantecas y el comercio de plumajes finos en el occidente de México. In

Bienes estratégicos del antiguo Occidente de México: producción e intercambio,
edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2005 Las unidades habitacionales de El Chanal, Colima. In El antiguo Occidente de

México: nuevas perspectivas sobre el pasado prehispánico, edited by Eduardo
Williams, Phil C. Weigand, Lorenza López, and David C. Grove. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

2012 Volcán de fuego: desarrollo social y procesos de cambio en el Valle de Colima

(two volumes). INAH and El Colegio de Michoacán, Mexico City and Zamora.

2016 El Manchón- La Albarradita: una mirada al desarrollo cultural de los pueblos

prehispánicos del Valle de Colima. INAH, Mexico City.

Oliveros, Arturo
1974 Nuevas exploraciones en El Opeño, Michoacán. In The archaeology of west
Mexico, edited by B. Bell. Sociedad de Estudios Avanzados del Occidente de
México, Ajijic.

1989 Las tumbas más antiguas de Michoacán. In Historia general de Michoacán 1,

edited by Enrique Florescano. Gobierno del Estado de Michoacán/Instituto
Michoacano de Cultura, Morelia.

1992 El valle de Zamora-Jacona: un proyecto arqueológico en Michoacán. In Origen y

desarrollo de la civilización en el Occidente de México, edited by Brigitte
Boehm and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2004 Hacedores de tumbas en Jacona, Michoacán. El Colegio de Michoacán and

Ayuntamiento de Jacona, Jacona and Zamora.

Oliveros, Arturo and Magdalena de los Ríos

1993 La cronología de El Opeño, Michoacán: nuevos fechamientos por radiocarbono.
Arqueología (2da. Época) 9-10, pp. 45-48.

Olivier,Guilhem
2017 Humans and Gods in the Mexica Universe. In The Oxford Handbook of the
Aztecs, edited by Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-Alegría. Oxford
University Press, Oxford.

Ortega, Verónica, Elsa Díaz, and Miguel A. Vargas

2016 La cerámica oaxaqueña de Tlailotlacan, Teotihuacán. Arqueología 51, pp. 94-
115.

Paddock, John
1970a Oaxaca in Ancient Mesoamerica. In Ancient Oaxaca: Discoveries in Mexican
Archaeology and History, edited by John Paddock. Stanford University Press,
Stanford.
 747

1970b Mixtec Ethnohistory and Monte Albán V. In Ancient Oaxaca: Discoveries in

Mexican Archaeology and History, edited by John Paddock. Stanford University
Press, Stanford.

Páez, Rubén
1990 El zoólogo, el explorador, el etnógrafo. In El Lumholtz desconocido, edited by
Rubén Páez and Rosa H. Yáñez. Cuadernos de divulgación. Segunda época 39.
Universidad de Guadalajara, Guadalajara.

Palerm, Ángel
1955 The Agricultural Basis of Urban Civilization in Mesoamerica. In Irrigation
Civilizations: A Comparative Study. Pan American Union, Social Science
Monographs 1. Washington, D.C.

1980 Antropología y marxismo. Centro de Investigaciones Superiores del INAH,

Editorial Nueva Imagen, Mexico City.

Paradis, Louise I.
1981 Guerrero and the Olmec. In The Olmec and their Neighbors: Essays in Memory
of Matthew W. Stirling, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson. Dumbarton Oaks,
Washington.

1990 Revisión del fenómeno olmeca. Arqueología 3, pp. 33-40.

2008 Guerrero y la primera civilización mesoamericana. In Tributo a Jaime Litvak

King, edited by Paul Schmidt, Edith Ortiz, and Joel Santos. Instituto de
Investigaciones Antropológicas, UNAM, Mexico City.

Parsons, Jeffrey R.
1996 Tequesquite and Ahuauhtle: Rethinking the Prehispanic productivity of Lake
Texcoco- Xaltocan- Zumpango. In Arqueología mesoamericana: homenaje a
William T. Sanders, edited by Alba G. Mastache, Jeffrey R. Parsons, Robert S.
Santley and Mari Carmen Serra, INAH/Arqueología Mexicana, Mexico City.

2001 The Last Saltmakers of Nexquipayac, Mexico: An Archaeological Ethnography.

Anthropological Papers 92. Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor.

2006 The Last Pescadores of Chimalhuacan, Mexico: An Archaeological

Ethnography. Anthropological Papers 96. Museum of Anthropology, University
of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

2010 The Pastoral Niche in Pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica. In Pre-Columbian Foodways:

Interdisciplinary Approaches to Food, Culture, and Markets in Ancient
Mesoamerica, edited by John E. Staller and Michael D. Carrasco. Springer
Science and Business Media, New York.

2011 El 'nicho pastoral' en la Mesoamérica prehispánica: ¿cómo funcionó una

civilización sin ganado domesticado? In Mesoamérica: debates y perspectivas,
 748

edited by Eduardo Williams, Magdalena García Sánchez, Phil C. Weigand and

Manuel Gándara. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Parsons, Jeffrey, and Luis Morett

2005 La economía acuática en el Valle de México: perspectivas arqueológicas,
históricas y etnográficas. In Etnoarqueología: el contexto dinámico de la cultura
material a través del tiempo, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

Parsons, Mary H.
2005 El hilado de la fibra del maguey en El Mezquital: perspectivas etnográficas e
implicaciones arqueológicas. In Etnoarqueología: el contexto dinámico de la
cultura material a través del tiempo, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.

Paso y Troncoso, Francisco del (editor)

1905 Papeles de Nueva España: segunda serie, geografía y estadística. Suma de
visitas de pueblos por orden alfabético. Sucesores de Rivadeneyra, Madrid.

Pastrana, Alejandro
2007 La distribución de la obsidiana de la Triple Alianza en la Cuenca de México.
INAH, Mexico City.

2018 La erupción del Xitle y su afectación a Cuicuilco. Arqueología Mexicana XXV

(151), pp. 46-55.

Pasztory, Esther
1992 Abstraction and the Rise of a Utopian State at Teotihuacan. In Art, Ideology, and
the City of Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks,
Washington.

1983 Aztec Art. Harry N. Abrams, New York.

1997 Teotihuacan: An Experiment in Living. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman.

Patterson, Thomas C.
1987 Tribes, Chiefdoms and Kingdoms in the Inca Empire. In Power Relations and
State Formations, edited by Thomas C. Patterson and Christine W. Gaily.
American Anthropological Association, Washington.

1991 The Inca Empire: The Formation and Disintegration of a Pre-Capitalist State.
Berg Publishers, Inc., New York.

Pereira, Grégory
1996 Nuevos hallazgos funerarios en Loma Alta, Zacapu, Michoacán. In Las cuencas
del Occidente de México: época prehispánica, edited by Eduardo Williams and
Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Peres, Tanya M., Amber M. VanDerwarker, and Christopher A. Pool

 749

2010 The Farmed and the Hunted: Integrating Floral and Faunal Data from Tres
Zapotes, Veracruz. In Integrating Zooarchaeology and Paleoethnobotany: A
Consideration of Issues, Methods, and Cases, edited by Amber M.
VanDerwarker and Tanya M. Peres. Springer Science and Business Media,
Berlin.

2013 The Zooarchaeology of Olmec and Epi-Olmec Foodways along Mexico’s Gulf
Coast. In The Archaeology of Mesoamerican Animals, edited by Christopher M.
Gotz and Kitty F. Emery. Lockwood Press, Atlanta.

Phillips, David A., and John P. Carpenter

1999 The Robles Phase of the Casas Grandes Culture. In The Casas Grandes World,
edited by Curtis F. Schaafsma and Carroll L. Riley. The University of Utah
Press, Salt Lake City.

Pickering, Robert B. and Cheryl Smallwood-Roberts

2016 The Culture behind the Shaft Tomb. In West Mexico: Ritual and Identity, edited
by Robert B. Pickering and Cheryl Smallwood-Roberts. Thomas Gilcrease
Institute of American History and Art, Tulsa.

Pickering, Robert and Cheryl Smallwood-Roberts (editors)

2016 West Mexico: Ritual and Identity. Gilcrease Museum, Tulsa.

Pierre, Jemima

2013 Diaspora. In Oxford Bibliographies. Digital document, accessed 25-VII-2019.

https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780199766567/obo-
9780199766567-0091.xml

Piña Chan, Román and Kunaki Oi

1982 Exploraciones arqueológicas en Tingambato, Michoacán. INAH, Mexico City.

Plancarte, Francisco
1889 Los tecos. Anales del Museo Michoacano II, pp. 16-26.

Plog, Stephen
1997 Ancient Peoples of the American Southwest. Thames and Hudson, New York.

Plunket, Patricia, and Gabriela Uruñuela

1998 Cholula y Teotihuacan: una consideración del occidente de Puebla durante el
Clásico. In Rutas de intercambio en Mesoamérica: III coloquio Pedro Bosch
Gimpera, edited by Evelyn C. Rattray. UNAM, Mexico City.

2017 Cholula in Aztec Times. In The Oxford Handbook of the Aztecs, edited by
Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-Alegría. Oxford University Press,
Oxford.

Pohl, John M. D.
 750

2003 Ritual, Ideology and Commerce in the Southern Mexican Highlands. In The
Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by Michael E. Smith and Frances F.
Berdan. The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Pollard, Helen P.
1980 Central Places and Cities: a Consideration of the Protohistoric Tarascan State.
American Antiquity 45 (4), pp. 677-696.

1987 The Political Economy of Prehispanic Tarascan Metallurgy. American Antiquity

52 (4), pp. 741-752.

1993 Taríacuri’s Legacy: The Prehispanic Tarascan State. University of Oklahoma

Press, Norman.

1995 Estudio del surgimiento del Estado tarasco: investigaciones recientes. In

Arqueología del occidente y norte de México, edited by Eduardo Williams and
Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1996 La transformación de elites regionales en Michoacán central. In Las cuencas del

Occidente de México: época prehispánica, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil
C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán/ Orstom/ Cemca, Zamora.

1997 Recent Research in West Mexican Archaeology. Journal of Archaeological

Research 5 (4), pp. 345-384.

2000 Tarascan External Relationships. In Greater Mesoamerica: The Archaeology of

West and Northwest Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster and Shirley
Gorenstein. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

2003a The Tarascan Empire. In The Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by

Michael E. Smith and Frances F. Berdan. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake
City.

2003b West Mexico beyond the Tarascan Frontier. In The Postclassic Mesoamerican
World, edited by Michael E. Smith and Frances F. Berdan. University of Utah
Press, Salt Lake City.

2005 Michoacán en el mundo mesoamericano prehispánico: Erongarícuaro y los

Estados teotihuacano y tarasco. In El antiguo occidente de México: nuevas
perspectivas sobre el pasado prehispánico, edited by Eduardo Williams, Phil C.
Weigand, Lorenza López and David C. Grove. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

2009 Un modelo para el surgimiento del Estado tarasco. In Las sociedades complejas
del Occidente de México en el mundo mesoamericano: homenaje al Dr. Phil C.
Weigand, edited by Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López Mestas and Rodrigo
Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2011 Una larga caminata: el análisis regional dentro de la arqueología tarasca. In

Patrones de asentamiento y actividades de subsistencia en el Occidente de
 751

México: reconocimiento a la Dra. Helen Perlstein Pollard, edited by Eduardo

Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2016 Ceramics, Social Status, and the Tarascan State Economy. In Cultural Dynamics
and Production Activities in Ancient Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo
Williams and Blanca Maldonado. Archaeopress, Oxford.

2018 Tula of the Toltecs and Tzintzuntzan of the Tarascans. In City, Craft, and
Residence in Mesoamerica, edited by Ronald Faulseit. Tulane University, New
Orleans.

Pollard, Helen, and Laura Cahue

1999 Mortuary Patterns and Regional Elites in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin of Western
Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 10 (3), pp. 259-280.

Pollard, Helen P. and Thomas Vogel

1994 Implicaciones políticas y económicas del intercambio de obsidiana dentro del
Estado tarasco. In Arqueología del Occidente de México: nuevas aportaciones,
edited by Eduardo Williams and Robert Novella. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

Pollard, Helen, Amy Hirshman, Hector Neff and Michael Glascock

2001 Las elites, el intercambio de bienes y el surgimiento del área nuclear tarasca:
análisis de la cerámica de la cuenca de Pátzcuaro. In Estudios cerámicos en el
occidente y norte de México, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand.
El Colegio de Michoacán and Instituto Michoacano de Cultura, Zamora and
Morelia.

Porter, Muriel
1956 Excavations at Chupícuaro, Guanajuato, Mexico. Transactions of the American
Philosophical Society 46 (5), pp. 515-637.

Porter Weaver, Muriel

1969 A Reappraisal of Chupícuaro. In The Natalie Wood Collection of Pre-Columbian
Ceramics at UCLA, edited by Jay D. Frierman. University of California, Los
Angeles.

1972 The Aztecs, Maya and their Predecessors: Archaeology of Mesoamerica.

Seminar Press, New York.

1981 The Aztecs, Maya and their Predecessors: Archaeology of Mesoamerica

(second edition). Academic Press, New York.

Publ, Helmut
1985 Prehispanic Exchange Networks and the Development of Social Complexity in
Western Mexico: The Aztatlan Interaction Sphere. Doctoral dissertation,
Southern Illinois University, Carbondale.

Punzo, José Luis

 752

2016 Nueva evidencia de la ocupación de Tingambato durante el Clásico y el

Epiclásico en el occidente de México. Arqueología Iberoamericana 30, pp. 10-
15.

Punzo, José Luis and Dante B. Martínez

2018 La Cueva de los Hacheros: un probable sitio del Pleistoceno tardío y Holoceno
temprano, Michoacán, México. Arqueología Iberoamericana 40, pp. 3-8.

Ramírez, Felipe

2018 Cuicuilco: contactos interregionales. Arqueología Mexicana XXV (151), pp. 40-
45.

Ramírez, Gustavo
2010 Descubren cerámica teotihuacana en Guerrero. Red Mexicana de Arqueología.
Digital document, accessed on 4/7/2019.
http://remarq.ning.com/xn/detail/3961257:Note:44230

Ramírez Flores, José

1980 Lenguas indígenas de Jalisco. Unidad Editorial del Gobierno de Jalisco,
Guadalajara.

Ramírez, Susana, Catherine Liot, Javier Reveles, Otto Schondube, Cinthya Cárdenas,
Franca Mata, Carmen Melgarejo, Leonardo Santoyo and Victoria Bojórquez
2005 La Peña: un sitio de transición entre el Epiclásico y el Postclásico temprano en la
cuenca de Sayula, Jalisco. In El antiguo occidente de México: nuevas
perspectivas sobre el pasado prehispánico, edited by Eduardo Williams, Phil C.
Weigand, Lorenza López Mestas and David Grove. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

Ramos, Jorge and Lorenza López

1995 Investigaciones arqueológicas en el Valle de Huitzilapa, Jalisco. Paper presented
in the Simposio de arqueología y etnohistoria de las cuencas del Occidente de
México. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora. Unpublished document in author’s
files.

1996 Datos preliminares sobre el descubrimiento de una tumba de tiro en el sitio de

Huitzilapa, Jalisco. Ancient Mesoamerica 7 (1), pp. 121-134.

Rattray, Evelyn C.
1992 The Oaxaca Barrio at Teotihuacan. Monografías Mesoamericanas 1.
Universidad de Las Américas, Cholula.

Reid, J. Jefferson
1991 Editor’s Corner: The History of Archaeology and Archaeologists. American
Antiquity 56 (2), pp. 195-196.

Reyes, Juan Carlos

 753

1995 Las salinas colimenses durante el período colonial, siglos XVI a XVIII. In La sal
en México 1, edited by Juan Carlos Reyes. Universidad de Colima, Colima.

1998 Los arrieros de la sal: el transporte de la sal y su impacto en la economía local de

Colima durante el Virreinato. In La sal en México 2, edited by Juan Carlos
Reyes. Universidad de Colima, Colima.

Reyman, Jonathan E.
1978 Pochteca Burials at Anazasi Sites. In Across the Chichimec Sea: Papers in
Honor of J. Charles Kelley, edited by Carroll L. Riley and Basil C. Hedrick.
Southern Illinois University Press, Carbondale.

Reyna Robles, Rosa María

1990 La época clásica en el estado de Guerrero. In La época Clásica: Nuevos
hallazgos, nuevas ideas. Seminario de arqueología, edited by Amalia Cardos.
INAH, Mexico City.

Reynolds, Robert G.
1986 An Adaptive Computer Model for the Evolution of Plant Collecting and Early
Agriculture in the Eastern Valley of Oaxaca. In Guilá Naquitz: Archaic
Foraging and Early Agriculture in Oaxaca, Mexico, edited by Kent V. Flannery.
Academic Press, Orlando.

Riley, Carroll L.
1995 Rio del Norte: People of the Upper Rio Grande from Earliest Times to the
Pueblo Revolt. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

2005 Becoming Aztlan: Mesoamerican Influence in the Greater Southwest, AD 1200-

1500. The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Robles, Nelly and Alberto Juárez

2009 Complejidad arquitectónica en Mitla: descubrimientos recientes y pasados. In
Bases de la complejidad social en Oaxaca, edited by Nelly Robles. INAH,
Mexico City.

Rojas, Teresa
1985 La tecnología agrícola mesoamericana en el siglo XVI. In Historia de la
agricultura: época prehispánica-siglo XVI, edited by Teresa Rojas and William
T. Sanders. INAH, Mexico City.

1988 Las siembras de ayer: la agricultura indígena del siglo XVI. SEP-Ciesas,
Mexico City.

1998 La cosecha del agua en la cuenca de México. Ciesas, Mexico City.

Rojas Moreno, José and Alejandro Novelo

1995 Flora y vegetación acuáticas del Lago de Cuitzeo, Michoacán, México. Acta
Botánica Mexicana 31, pp. 1-17.
 754

Romo, Francisco
2016 El gigante de Zacoalco: el mamut de Catarina en el Museo Regional. Crónica
Jalisco, Guadalajara. Digital document, viewed 29/VIII/2019
www.cronicajalisco.com/notas/2016/59100.html

Rosado, Vladimiro
1948 Interpretación de la grada jeroglífica del Chanal, Colima. In El Occidente de
México: cuarta reunión de mesa redonda de la Sociedad Mexicana de
Antropología. Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, Mexico City.

Roskamp, Hans
1998 La historiografía indígena de Michoacán: el Lienzo de Jucutácato y los Títulos
de Carapan. Research School CNWS. School of Asian, African, and
Amerindian Studies. Leiden, The Netherlands.

2001 Historia, mito y legitimación: el Lienzo de Jicalán. In La tierra caliente de

Michoacán, edited by Eduardo Zárate. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2003 Los códices de Cutzio y Huetamo: economía y tributo en la Tierra Caliente de

Michoacán, siglo XVI. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Ross, Kurt
1984 Codex Mendoza: Aztec Manuscript. Regent Books and High Texts Ltd., London.

Rubín de la Borbolla, Daniel

1939 Antropología de Tzintzuntzan-Ihuatzio: temporadas I y II. Revista Mexicana de
Estudios Antropológicos 3 (2), pp. 99-121.

1941 Exploraciones arqueológicas en Michoacán, Tzintzuntzan, temporada III.

Revista Mexicana de Estudios Antropológicos 5 (1), pp. 99-121.

1944 Orfebrería tarasca. Cuadernos Americanos 3 (3), pp. 127-138.

1948 Arqueología tarasca. In El Occidente de México: cuarta reunión de mesa

redonda. Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología, Mexico City.

Ruvalcaba, José Luis, Gabriela Peñuelas, Jannen Contreras, Edith Ortiz, and
Eumelia Hernández
2009 Technological and Material Features of the Gold Work of Mesoamerica.
ArcheoSciences 33. Digital document, accessed on 9 February 2019,
http://journals.openedition.org/archeosciences/2345.

Rzedowski, Jerzy and M. Equihua

1987 Atlas cultural de México: flora. SEP/INAH/Planeta, Mexico City.

Sabloff, Jeremy
1989 The Cities of Ancient Mexico: Reconstructing a Lost World. Thames and
Hudson, London and New York.
 755

Saggs, H. W. F.
1999 The Babylonians: A Survey of the Ancient Civilisation of the Tigris-Euphrates
Valley. The Folio Society, London.

Sahagún, Bernardino
1938 Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España 3. Editorial Robredo, Mexico
City.

1961 Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. Book 10: The
People, edited by Charles E. Dibble and Arthur J. Anderson. School of
American Research and University of Utah Press, Santa Fe.

Sahlins, Marshall
1968 Notes on the Original Affluent Society. In Man the Hunter, edited by Richard
Lee and Irven de Vore. Aldine Transaction, New Brunswick.

Saint-Charles, Carlos, Carlos Viramontes, and Fiorella Fenoglio

2010 El Rosario, Querétaro: un enclave teotihuacano en el Centro Norte. Tiempo y
Región: Estudios Históricos y Sociales 4. Municipio de Querétaro, Universidad
Autónoma de Querétaro, INAH, Querétaro.

Sánchez, Gerardo
1984 Mulas, hatajos y arrieros en el Michoacán del siglo XIX. Relaciones: Estudios
de Historia y Sociedad 5 (17), pp. 41-53.

Sanchez, Guadalupe
2001 A Synopsis of Paelo-Indian Archaeology in Mexico. Kiva 67 (2), pp. 119-136.

Sánchez, Martín
2007 Jacona: historia de un pueblo y su desencuentro con el agua. In Informe final de
la primera etapa del Proyecto Reserva Patrimonial del Curutarán. Digital
document, accessed on 15/11/2018
http://etzakutarakua.colmich.edu.mx/proyectos/curutaran/publicaciones/HIST.%20M.S
%C3%A1nchez.%20Jacona-Historia%20de%20un%20pueblo.pdf

Sánchez, Martín and Brigitte Boehm

2005 Cartografía hidráulica de Michoacán. El Colegio de Michoacán and Gobierno
del Estado de Michoacán, Zamora and Morelia.

Sánchez, Sergio and Emma G. Marmolejo

1990 Algunas apreciaciones sobre el Clásico en el Bajío central, Guanajuato. In La
época Clásica: nuevos hallazgos, nuevas ideas, edited by Amalia Cardós de
Méndez. INAH/Museo Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City.

Sanders, William T.
1962 Cultural Ecology of Nuclear Mesoamerica. American Anthropologist 64, pp. 34-
44.
 756

1992 Ranking and Stratification in Prehispanic Mesoamerica. In Mesoamerican

Elites: An Archaeological Assessment, edited by Diane Z. Chase and Arlen F.
Chase. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman and London.

Sanders, William T., and Barbara Price

1968 Mesoamerica: the Evolution of a Civilization. Random House, New York.

Sanders, William and Daniel Webster

1988 The Mesoamerican Urban Tradition. American Anthropologist 90(3):521-546.

Santiago y Fuentes, Víctor M.

1996 Museo universitario de arqueología. Universidad de Colima and INAH, Colima.

Santley, Robert S.
1983 Obsidian Trade and Teotihuacan Influence in Mesoamerica. In Highland-
Lowland Interaction in Mesoamerica: Interdisciplinary Approaches, edited by
Arthur G. Miller. Dumbarton Oaks, Wshington.

Santley, Robert S. and Philip J. Arnold III

2005 The Obsidian Trade to the Tuxtlas Region and its Implications for the Prehistory
of Southern Veracruz, Mexico. Ancient Mesoamerica 16 (2), pp. 179-194.

Sauer, Carl and Donald Brand

1932 Aztatlán: Prehistoric Mexican Frontier on the Pacific Coast. Ibero-Americana
1. University of California Press, Berkeley.

Schaafsma, Curtis F., and Carroll L. Riley

1999 The Casas Grandes World: Analysis and Conclusion. In The Casas Grandes
World, edited by Curtis F. Schaafsma and Carroll L. Riley. The University of
Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Schavelzon, Daniel
1983 La primera excavación arqueológica de América: Teotihuacan en 1675. Anales
de Antropología 20, pp. 121-134.

Schiavitti, Vincent W.
2002 The Chalchihuites Mines. Archaeology Southwest 16 (1), p. 8.

Schiffer, Michael B.
2000 Social Theory in Archaeology: Building Bridges. In Social Theory in
Archaeology, edited by Michael B. Schiffer. The University of Utah Press, Salt
Lake City.

2017 Archaeology’s Footprints in the Modern World. The University of Utah Press,
Salt Lake City.

Schmidt, Paul
2018 Las serpientes de la máscara de Malinaltepec. Digital document, accessed on
29/VIII/2019
 757

https://www.academia.edu/36837518/Las_serpientes_de_la_m%C3%A1scara_de_Mali
naltepec_1

Schmidt, Wilhelm
1906 Die Mon-Khmer Volker. Archiv für Anthropologie 5, pp. 59-109.

Schöndube, Otto
1974 Introducción: algunas consideraciones sobre la arqueología del occidente de
México. In The Archaeology of West Mexico, edited by Betty Bell. West
Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

1978 El occidente de México hasta la época tolteca. In Historia de México 1, edited

by José Luis Lorenzo and Ignacio Bernal. Salvat Editores, Mexico City.

1980 Época prehispánica. In Historia de Jalisco 1, edited by José María Muriá.

Gobierno del Estado de Jalisco, Guadalajara.

Schulz, Adolph
1944 Biographical Memoir of Ales Hrdlicka (1869-1943). National Academy of
Sciences Biographical Memoirs 23. National Academy of Sciences, Washington,
D.C.

Scott, Stuart D.
1974 Archaeology and the Estuary: Researching Prehistory and Paleoecology at the
Marismas Nacionales, Sinaloa and Nayarit. In The Archaeology of West Mexico,
edited by Betty Bell. West Mexican Society for Advanced Study, Ajijic.

Scott, Stuart D. and Michael S. Foster

2000 The Prehistory of Mexico’s Northwest Coast: A View from the Marismas
Nacionales of Sinaloa and Nayarit. In Greater Mesoamerica: The Archaeology
of West and Northwest Mexico, edited by Michael S. Foster and Shirley
Gorenstein. The University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Scott, Sue
2010 La máscara de Malinaltepec y sus compañeras. In La máscara de Malinaltepec,
edited by Sofía Martínez. INAH, Mexico City.

Sejourné, Laurette
1966 Arqueología de Teotihuacan: la cerámica. Fondo de Cultura Económica,
Mexico City.

Seler, Eduard
1963 Comentarios al Códice Borgia. Fondo de Cultura Económica, Mexico City.
[First published in 1904].

Sempowski, Martha L.
1992 Economic and Social Implications of Mortuary Practices at Teotihuacan. In Art,
Ideology, and the City of Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton
Oaks, Washington.
 758

Serra Puche, Mari Carmen

1988 Los recursos lacustres de la cuenca de México durante el Formativo. UNAM,
Mexico City.

1994 Presencia olmeca en el altiplano. In Los olmecas en Mesoamérica, edited by

John Clark. El Equilibrista and Turner Libros, Mexico City and Madrid.

Service, Elman
1975 Origins of the State and Civilization: The Process of Cultural Evolution. W.W.
Norton and Company, New York.

Sharer, Robert J.
2003 Founding Events and Teotihuacan Connections at Copán, Honduras. In The
Maya and Teotihuacan: Reinterpreting Early Classic Interaction, edited by
Geoffrey Braswell. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Shelton, Anthony
1988 Realm of the Fire Serpent. British Museum Society Bulletin 58, pp. 21-25.

Siméon, Remi
1983 Diccionario de la lengua náhuatl o mexicana. Siglo XXI, Mexico City.

Smith, Michael E.
1990 Long-Distance Trade under the Aztec Empire: The Archaeological Evidence.
Ancient Mesoamerica 1 (2), pp. 153-170.

1996 The Strategic Provinces. In Aztec Imperial Strategies. Dumbarton Oaks,

Washington.

1997 Life in the Provinces of the Aztec Empire. Scientific American 277 (3), pp. 56-
63.

1998 The Aztecs. Blackwell, London.

2014 The Aztecs Paid Taxes, Not Tribute. Mexikon 36 (1), pp. 19-22.

2016 At Home with the Aztecs. Routledge, Oxford and New York.

2017 Aztec Urbanism: Cities and Towns. In The Oxford Handbook of the Aztecs,
edited by Deborah L. Nichols and Enrique Rodríguez-Alegría. Oxford
University Press, Oxford.

Smith, Michael E. and Frances F. Berdan

1996 Introduction. In Aztec Imperial Strategies. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

2003 Postclassic Mesoamerica. In The Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by

Michael E. Smith and Frances F. Berdan. The University of Utah Press, Salt
Lake City.
 759

Smith, Michael E., and Frances Berdan (editors)

2003 The Postclassic Mesoamerican World. University of Utah Press, Salt Lake City.

Smith, Michael E. and Cynthia M. Heath-Smith

1980 Waves of Influence in Postclassic Mesoamerica? A Critique of the Mixteca-
Puebla Concept. Anthropology 4, pp. 15-50.

Smith, Michael E., and Juliana Novic

2012 Introduction. In The Neighborhood as a Social and Spatial Unit in
Mesoamerican Cities, edited by Marie-Charlotte Arnauld, Linda Manzanilla, and
Michael E. Smith. The University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

Solís Olguín, Felipe, and Roberto Velasco

2002 Catalogue. In Aztecs, edited by Eduardo Matos and Felipe Solís. The Royal
Academy of Arts, London.

Solórzano, Federico
1980 Prehistoria. In Historia de Jalisco 1, edited by José María Muriá. Gobierno de
Jalisco, Unidad Editorial, Guadalajara.

Somerville, Andrew, Nawa Sugiyama, Linda Manzanilla, and Margaret Schoeninger

2016 Animal Management at the Ancient City of Teotihuacan, Mexico: Stable Isotope
Analysis of Leporid Bone Material. PLOS One: Public Library of Science 11
(8), pp. 1-21.

Spence, Michael W.
1992 Tlailotlacan, a Zapotec Enclave in Teotihuacan. In Art, Ideology, and the City of
Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington.

Spores, Ronald
1984 The Mixtecs in Ancient and Colonial Times. University of Oklahoma Press,
Norman.

2003 Postclassic Mixtec Kingdoms: Ethnohistoric and Archaeological Evidence. In

The Cloud People: Divergent Evolution of the Zapotec and Mixtec Civilizations,
edited by Kent V. Flannery and Joyce Marcus. Percheron Press, Clinton Corners.

Stahle, D. W., J. Villanueva, D. J. Burnette, J. Cerano Paredes, R. Heim et al.

2011 Major Mesoamerican Droughts of the Past Millennium. Geophysical Research
Letters 38 (L05703), pp. 1-4.

Stahle, D.W., E.R. Cook, D.J. Burnette, J. Villanueva, J. Cerano, et al.

2016 The Mexican Drought Atlas: Tree-Ring Reconstructions of the Soil Moisture
Balance During the Late Pre-Hispanic, Colonial, and Modern Eras. Quaternary
Science Review 149 (1), pp. 34-60.

Staller, John E.
 760

2010 Ethnohistoric Sources on Foodways, Feasts and Festivals in Mesoamerica. In

Pre-Columbian Foodways: Interdisciplinary Approaches to Food, Culture, and
Markets in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by John E. Staller and Michael D.
Carrasco. Springer Science and Business Media, New York.

Stanish, Charles
1994 The Hydraulic Hypothesis Revisited: Lake Titicaca Basin Raised Fields in
Theoretical Perspective. Latin American Antiquity 5 (4), pp. 312-322.

Starr, Frederick
1897 Stone Images from Tarascan Territory, Mexico. American Anthropologist 10,
pp. 45-47.

Stawski, Christopher J.
2011 Las clases sociales y el uso del espacio en Tzintzuntzan, la capital de los
tarascos. In Patrones de asentamiento y actividades de subsistencia en el
occidente de México: reconocimiento a la Dra. Helen P. Pollard, edited by
Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Stein, Gil
2002 Colonies without Colonialism: A Trade Diaspora Model of Fourth Millennium
BC Mesopotamian Enclaves in Anatolia. In The Archaeology of Colonialism,
edited by Claire L. Lyons and John K. Papadopoulos. The Getty Research
Institute, Los Angeles.

Strazicich, Nicola M.
2002 La Quemada’s Pseudo-Cloisonné Tradition. Archaeology Southwest 16 (1), p. 7.

Stuart, Glenn
2005 Agricultura de tierras húmedas en el núcleo de la tradición Teuchitlán. In El
antiguo occidente de México: nuevas perspectivas sobre el pasado prehispánico,
edited by Eduardo Williams, Phil C. Weigand, Lorenza López and David Grove.
El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Sugiura, Yoko, Magdalena García Sánchez and Alberto Aguirre

1998 La caza, la pesca y la recolección: etnoarqueología del modo de subsistencia
lacustre en las ciénegas del alto Lerma. UNAM, Mexico City.

Sugiyama, Naburo
1992 Rulership, Warfare, and Human Sacrifice at the Ciudadela. In Art, Ideology, and
the City of Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton Oaks,
Washington.

Tamayo, Jorge and Robert C. West

1964 The Hydrography of Middle America. In Handbook of Middle American Indians
11, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Tankersley, Kenneth B., Michael Walters, and Thomas W. Stafford, Jr.

2009 Clovis and the American Mastodon at Big Bone Lick, Kentucky. American
Antiquity 74 (3), pp. 558-567
 761

Tapia-Ramírez, Gloria, Ana Fabiola Guzmán, and Oscar J. Polaco

2013 Los gonfoterios (Proboscidea), de Colima, México. Boletín de la Sociedad
Geológica Mexicana 65 (3), pp. 591-607.

Taube, Karl A.
2012 The Symbolism of Turquoise in Ancient Mesoamerica. In Turquoise in Mexico
and North America, edited by J. C. H. King. Archetype Publications and British
Museum, London.

Thibodeau, Alyson, Leonardo López, David Killick, Frances Berdan, and Joaquín Ruiz
2018 Was Aztec and Mixtec Turquoise Mined in the American Southwest? Science
Advances 4, pp. 1-8.

Toledo, Víctor Manuel and Arturo Argüeta

1992 Cultura indígena y ecología. In Plan Pátzcuaro 2000: investigación
multidisciplinaria para el desarrollo sostenido, edited by Víctor M. Toledo,
Patricia Álvarez-Icaza and Patricia Ávila. Fundación Friedrich Ebert Stiftung,
Mexico City.

Toledo, Victor Manuel, Javier Caballero, Cristina Mapes, Narciso Barrera,

Arturo Argüeta, and Miguel Ángel Núñez
1980 Los purépecha de Pátzcuaro: una aproximación ecológica. América Indígena 40
(1), pp. 17-56.

Townsend, Richard F. (editor)

1998 Ancient West Mexico: Art and Archaeology of the Unknown Past. The Art
Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

Toynbee, Arnold
1976 Mankind and Mother Earth: A Narrative History of the World. Oxford
University Press, Oxford.

Trigger, Bruce G.
2003 Understanding Early Civilizations: A Comparative Study. Cambridge University
Press, Cambridge.

2006 A History of Archaeological Thought (Second Edition). Cambridge University

Press, Cambridge.

Turkon, Paula, Sturt Manning, Carol Griggs, Marco Santos, Ben Nelson, Carlos
Torreblanca, and Eva Wild
2018 Applications of Dendrochronology in Northwest Mexico. Latin American
Antiquity 29 (1), pp. 102-121.

Turner, Margaret H.
1992 Style in Lapidary Technology: Identifying the Teotihuacan Lapidary Industry. In
Art, Ideology, and the City of Teotihuacan, edited by Janet C. Berlo. Dumbarton
Oaks, Washington.
 762

Turpin, Solveig A., Herbert H. Eling, Jr., and Moisés Valadez

1995 Boca de Potrerillos, Nuevo León: adaptación prehispánica a las zonas áridas del
noreste de México. In Arqueología del Occidente y Norte de México, edited by
Eduardo Williams and P.C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Tylor, Edward B.
1871 Primitive Culture: Researches into the Development of Mythology, Philosophy,
Religion, Language, Art, and Customs. J. Murray, London.

Tyndall, Gregory
2008 Los banquetes en Navajas, Jalisco: estudio preliminar de la cerámica del círculo
5. In Tradición Teuthitlán, edited by Phil C. Weigand, Christopher Beekman,
and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán and Secretaría de Cultura de
Jalisco, Zamora and Guadalajara.

Vaillant, George
1940 Patterns in Middle American Archaeology. In The Maya and their Neighbors:
Essays in Middle American Anthropology and Archaeology, edited by Clarence
L. Hay, Ralph L. Linton, Samuel K. Lothrop, Harry L. Schapiro, and George C.
Vaillant. Dover Publications, New York. [Second Edition published in 1977].

1962 Aztecs of Mexico: Origin, Rise, and Fall of the Aztec Nation. (Revised edition,
first published in 1944). Penguin Books, Harmondsworth.

Valdés, Alejandro
2018 Elementos marinos y piedras verde-azules como ajuar funerario en la Tumba II
de Tingambato, Michoacán. BA thesis, Escuela Nacional de Antropología e
Hitoria, Mexico City.

Valdez, Francisco
1994 Las áreas domésticas en el sitio de San Juan, Atoyac, Jalisco. In Contribuciones
a la arqueología y etnohistoria del Occidente de México, edited by Eduardo
Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1998 The Sayula Basin: Ancient Settlements and Resources. In Ancient West Mexico:
Art and Archaeology of the Unknown Past, edited by Richard Townsend. The
Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

Valdez, Francisco and Catherine Liot

1994 La cuenca de Sayula: yacimientos de sal en la zona de frontera oeste del Estado
tarasco. In El Michoacán antiguo: Estado y sociedad tarascos en la época
prehispánica, edited by Brigitte Boehm de Lameiras. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

Valdez, Francisco, Catherine Liot, Rosario Acosta and Jean P. Emphoux

1996a The Sayula Basin: Lifeways and Salt Flats of Central Jalisco. Ancient
Mesoamerica 7 (1), pp. 171-186.

Valdez, Francisco, Catherine Liot and Otto Schöndube

 763

1996b Los recursos naturales y su uso en las cuencas lacustres del sur de Jalisco: el
caso de Sayula. In Las cuencas del Occidente de México: época prehispánica,
edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán,
Zamora.

Valenzuela, Gerardo and Víctor Santos

2018 El uso de urnas como elemento funerario en Loma del Tecomate, Chametla,
Sinaloa. Arqueología Mexicana 26 (154), pp. 69-75.

Vázquez, Luis
1996 El leviatán arqueológico: antropología de una tradición científica en México.
Research School CNWS, Leiden.

Velázquez, Adrián, Norma Valentín Maldonado, and Gilberto Pérez

2016 Estudios de las huellas de corte en los restos óseos del mamut. In Estudios
interdisciplinarios sobre un mamut y su contexto, edited by Luis Barba. Red de
Ciencias Aplicadas a la Conservación and Conacyt, Mexico City.

Vidal, Cinthya Isabel

2018 Vivir entre los tres ríos: arqueología del paisaje del Valle de Culiacán. Master’s
Thesis. UNAM, Mexico City.

Viramontes, Carlos
2008 El centro norte de México en el contexto mesoamericano: introducción. In
Tiempo y región: estudios históricos y sociales II, edited by Carlos Viramontes.
INAH, Querétaro.

Von Winning, Hasso

1996 Arte prehispánico del Occidente de México, edited by Phil C. Weigand and
Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán and Secretaría de Cultura de
Jalisco, Zamora and Guadalajara.

Voorhies, Barbara
1976 The Chantuto People: An Archaic Period Society of the Chiapas Littoral,
Mexico. Papers of the New World Archaeological Foundation 41. Brigham
Young University, Provo.

2012 Archaic Period in Mesoamerica. In The Oxford Companion to Archaeology

(Second Edition), edited by Neil Asher Silberman. Oxford University Press,
Oxford.

2018 Review of the book The Archaeology, Ethnohistory and Environment of the
Marismas Nacionales, edited by Michael S. Foster. Latin American Antiquity 29
(2), pp. 414-416.

Voorhies, Barbara and Natalia Martínez-Tagueña

2016 Clamming Up: An Ethnoarchaeological Study of a Costa Rican Artisanal Clam
Fishery. The Journal of Island and Coastal Archaeology. Digital document,
accessed on 4/8/2019.
https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/15564894.2016.1262483
 764

Wagner, John H.
2016 Changing Places, Changing Lifestyles: Differing Obsidian Economies in
Teuchitlán Culture. In Cultural Dynamics and Production Activities in Ancient
Western Mexico, edited by Eduardo Williams and Blanca Maldonado.
Archaeopress, Oxford.

Wallerstein, Immanuel
1974 The Modern World System. Academic Press, New York.

Walton, David P.
2017 Lithic Production and Consumption Patterns from the Great Platform,
Tzintzuntzan, Mexico. Journal of Field Archaeology 42 (2), pp. 97-114.

Warren, F. Benedict
1968 Minas de cobre de Michoacán, 1533. Anales del Museo Michoacano 6, pp. 35-
52.

Watson, Patty J.
1995 Archaeology, Anthropology, and the Culture Concept. American Anthropologist
97 (4), pp. 683-694.

Waugh, Theresa, and Maria Bellonci

1984 The Travels of Marco Polo: A Modern Translation. Sidgwick and Jackson,
London.

Webster’s Dictionary
1977 Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary. Merriam Webster Inc., Springfield.

Weigand, Phil C.
1970 Huichol Ceremonial Reuse of a Fluted Point. American Antiquity 35 (3), pp.
365-367.

1982 Introduction. Anthropology: Mining and Mining Techniques in Ancient

Mesoamerica, VI (1 & 2), pp. 1-6.

1985 Evidence for Complex Societies during the Western Mesoamerican Classic
Period. In The Archaeology of West and Northwest Mesoamerica, edited by
Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand. Westview Press, Boulder.

1989 Architecture and Settlement Patterns within the Western Mesoamerican

Formative Tradition. In El Preclásico o Formativo: avances y perspectivas,
edited by Martha Carmona Macías. INAH, Mexico City.

1990 The Teuchitlán Tradition of Western Mesoamerica. In La época Clásica: nuevos

hallazgos, nuevas ideas, edited by Amalia Cardós de Méndez. INAH/ Museo
Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City.
 765

1991 The Western Mesoamerican Tlachco: A Two-Thousand-Year Perspective. In

The Mesoamerican Ballgame, edited by Vernon L. Scarborough and David R.
Wilcox. University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

1992a Ehecatl: ¿primer dios supremo del Occidente? In Origen y desarrollo de la

civilización en el Occidente de México, edited by Brigitte Boehm and Phil C.
Weigand. El colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1992b Introducción. In Ensayos sobre el Gran Nayar: entre coras, huicholes y

tepehuanes. Instituto Nacional Indigenista, Cemca, Colmich, Mexico City.

1993a Evolución de una civilización prehispánica: arqueología de Jalisco, Nayarit y

Zacatecas. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1993b The Political Organization of the Trans-Tarascan Zone of Western Mesoamerica

on the Eve of the Spanish Conquest. In Culture and Contact: Charles C. Di
Peso’s Gran Chichimeca, edited by Anne I. Woosley and John C. Ravesloot.
Amerind Foundation/ University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.

1994 Obras hidráulicas a gran escala en el Occidente de Mesoamérica. In

Contribuciones a la arqueología y etnohistoria del Occidente de México, edited
by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1995a Minería prehispánica en las regiones noroccidentales de Mesoamérica, con

énfasis en la turquesa. In Arqueología del Occidente y Norte de México, edited
by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1995b Introducción. In Arqueología del Occidente y Norte de México, edited by

Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1996a La evolución y ocaso de un núcleo de civilización: la tradición Teuchitlán y la

arqueología de Jalisco. In Las cuencas del Occidente de México: época
prehispánica, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de
Michoacán/CEMCA/ORSTOM, Zamora.

1996b Las salinas prehispánicas de la zona San Marcos-Zacoalco-Atoyac-Sayula,

Jalisco. Antropología en Jalisco: Una Visión Actual 3, pp. 13-17.

2000 La antigua ecúmene mesoamericana: ¿un ejemplo de sobre-especialización?

Relaciones: Estudios de Historia y Sociedad 82 (XXI), pp. 39-58.

2008 Continuity: The Prehispanic Background for Mining, Trade, and Warfare in
Northern Mexico and the Southwestern United States. Journal of the Southwest
47 (3), pp. 11-15.

2011a El paisaje cultural de la tradición Teuchitlán: consideraciones metodológicas

para su evaluación y caracterización. In Mesoamérica: debates y perspectivas,
edited by Eduardo Williams, Magdalena García, Phil C. Weigand and Manuel
Gándara. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.
 766

2011b Estrategias de subsistencia durante la sequía entre los tepecanos de la comunidad

indígena de San Lorenzo Azqueltán, Jalisco. In Patrones de asentamiento y
actividades de subsistencia en el occidente de México, edited by Eduardo
Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Weigand, Phil C. and Michael S. Foster

1985 Introduction. In The Archaeology of West and Northwest Mesoamerica, edited
by Michael S. Foster and Phil C. Weigand. Westview Press, Boulder.

Weigand, Phil C., and Celia García de Weigand

1996 La arquitectura prehispánica y la secuencia cultural en la cuenca de Chapala,
Jalisco: observaciones preliminares. In Las cuencas del Occidente de México:
época prehispánica, edited by Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El
Colegio de Michoacán/CEMCA/ORSTOM, Zamora.

1997 Salinas y salineros: manufactura prehispánica de sal en el Occidente de México.

Antropología en Jalisco: Una Visión Actual 9, pp. 5-23.

2005 El juego de pelota monumental de Los Guachimontones, Jalisco. In El antiguo

occidente de México, edited by Eduardo Williams, Phil C. Weigand, Lorenza
López, and David C. Grove. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Weigand, Phil C., and Christopher Beekman

1998 The Teuchitlán Tradition: Rise of a State-Like Society. In Ancient west Mexico:
Art and Archaeology of the Unknown Past, edited by Richard F. Townsend. The
Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

Weigand, Phil C. and Garman Harbottle

1992 The Role of Turquoises in the Ancient Mesoamerican Trade Structure. In The
American Southwest and Mesoamerica: Systems of Prehistoric Exchange, edited
by Timothy G. Baugh and Jonathon E. Ericson. Plenum Press, New York.

Weigand, Phil C., Garman Harbottle, and Edward V. Sayre

1977 Turquoise Sources and Source Analysis: Mesoamerica and the Southwestern
U.S.A. In Exchange Systems in Prehistory, edited by Timothy K. Earle and
Jonathon E. Ericson. Academic Press, New York.

Weigand, Phil C. and Eduardo Williams

1997 Adela Breton y los inicios de la arqueología en el Occidente de México.
Relaciones: Estudios de Historia y Sociedad. XVIII (70), pp. 217-255.

1999 Introducción. In Arqueología y etnohistoria: la región del Lerma, edited by

Eduardo Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Weigand, Phil C., Acelia García de Weigand, and Michael D. Glascock

2004 La explotación de los yacimientos de obsidiana del centro-occidente de Jalisco.
In Bienes estratégicos del antiguo occidente de México, edited by Eduardo
Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Weigand, Phil C., Christopher Beekman, and Rodrigo Esparza (editors)

 767

2008 Tradición Teuthitlán. El Colegio de Michoacán and Secretaría de Cultura de

Jalisco, Zamora and Guadalajara.

Werner, William
2010 Culture Concepts and Capitalism: Walter Lehmann’s 1907-1909 Central
American Expedition. Antiquity: A Review of World Archaeology 323 (84), pp.
1-4.

West, Robert C.
1948 Cultural Geography of the Modern Tarascan Area. Smithsonian Institution,
Institute of Social Anthropology Publication 7. Washington.

1964 Surface Configuration and Associated Geology of Middle America. In

Handbook of Middle-American Indians 1, edited by Robert Wauchope.
University of Texas Press, Austin.

White, Christine D., Rebecca Storey, Fred J. Longstaffe, and Michael W. Spence
2004 Immigration, Assimilation, and Status in the Ancient City of Teotihuacan: Stable
Isotopic Evidence from Tlajinga 33. Latin American Antiquity 15 (2), pp. 176-
198.

White, Christine D., T. Douglas Price, and Fred J. Longstaffe

2007 Residential Histories of the Human Sacrifices at the Moon Pyramid,
Teotihuacan: Evidence from Oxygen and Strontium Isotopes. Ancient
Mesoamerica 18, pp. 159-172.

Wilcox, David R, Phil C. Weigand, J. Scott Wood, and Jerry B. Howard

2009 Ancient Cultural Interplay of the American Southwest in the Mexican
Northwest. Journal of the Southwest 50 (2), pp. 103-206.

Wilk, Richard
2004 Miss Universe, the Olmec and the Valley of Oaxaca. Journal of Social
Archaeology 4, pp. 81-98.

Willey, Gordon R.
1962 Mesoamerica. In Courses Toward Urban Life, edited by Robert Braidwood and
Gordon R. Willey. Aldine Publishing Co., Chicago.

1966 An Introduction to American Archaeology: North and Middle America. Prentice-

Hall, Englewood Cliffs.

Willey, Gordon R. and Philip Phillips

1958 Method and Theory in American Archaeology. University of Chicago Press,
Chicago.

Willey, Gordon R., Gordon F. Ekholm, and René F. Millon

1964 The Patterns of Farming Life and Civilization. In Handbook of Middle-American
Indians 1, edited by Robert Wauchope. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Willey, Gordon and Jeremy Sabloff

 768

1980 A History of American Archaeology. W. H. Freeman and Co., San Francisco.

Williams, Eduardo
1992 Las piedras sagradas: escultura prehispánica del Occidente de México. El Colegio
de Michoacán, Zamora.

1993 Historia de la arqueología en Michoacán. In II Coloquio Pedro Bosch-Gimpera,

edited by María Teresa Cabrero. UNAM, Mexico City.

1994 El Occidente de México: una perspectiva arqueológica. In Arqueología del

Occidente de México: nuevas aportaciones, edited by Eduardo Williams and
Robert Novella. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1995a Book review: Arqueología en Las Lomas en la cuenca lacustre de Zacapu,

Michoacán, México, by Marie-Charlotte Arnauld et al. Relaciones: Estudios de
Historia y Sociedad, XV (58), pp. 253-256.

1995b Book review: Taríacuri’s Legacy: The Prehispanic Tarascan State, by Helen
Pollard. Latin American Antiquity 5 (3), pp. 279-280.

1996 Desarrollo cultural en las cuencas del Occidente de México, 1500 a.C.- 1521 d.C.
In Las cuencas del Occidente de México: época prehispánica, edited by Eduardo
Williams and Phil C. Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

1999 The ethnoarchaeology of salt production at Lake Cuitzeo, Michoacán, Mexico.

Latin American Antiquity 10 (4), pp. 400-414.

2002 Salt Production in the Coastal Area of Michoacán, Mexico: An

Ethnoarchaeological Study. Ancient Mesoamerica 13 (2), pp. 237-253.

2003 La sal de la tierra: etnoarqueología de la producción salinera en el occidente de

México. El Colegio de Michoacán and Secretaría de Cultura de Jalisco, Zamora
and Guadalajara.
2004a Prehispanic West Mexico: A Mesoamerican Culture Area. Foundation for the
Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies, Inc (FAMSI). Digital document,
accessed on 16/07/2019. www.famsi.org/research/williams

2004b Nuevas perspectivas sobre el sistema mundial mesoamericano. Relaciones:

Estudios de Historia y Sociedad, 99 (XXV), pp. 145-175.

2005a Introducción: la etnoarqueología, arqueología como antropología. In

Etnoarqueología: el contexto dinámico de la cultura material a través del
tiempo, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2005b Una pizca de sal: nuevos datos acerca de la producción salinera en la cuenca de
Cuitzeo, Michoacán. In El antiguo occidente de México: nuevas perspectivas
sobre el pasado prehispánico, edited by Eduardo Williams, Phil C. Weigand,
Lorenza Lopez, and David C. Grove El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.
 769

2009a The Exploitation of Aquatic Resources at Lake Cuitzeo, Michoacán, Mexico: An

Ethnoarchaeological Study. Latin American Antiquity 20 (4), pp. 607-627.

2009b Producción e intercambio de recursos estratégicos en la cuenca de Cuitzeo,

Michoacán, durante el periodo Protohistórico. In Las sociedades complejas del
Occidente de México en el mundo mesoamericano: homenaje al Dr. Phil C.
Weigand, edited by Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López, and Rodrigo Esparza. El
Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2010 Salt Production and Trade in Ancient Mesoamerica. In Pre-Columbian

Foodways: Interdisciplinary Approaches to Food, Culture, and Markets in
Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by John E. Staller and Michael D. Carrasco.
Springer Science and Business Media, New York.

2014a Water Folk: Reconstructing an Ancient Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán, Western

Mexico. British Archaeological Reports. BAR International Series 2617.
Archaeopress, Oxford.

2014b La gente del agua: etnoarqueología del modo de vida lacustre en Michoacán. El
Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

2014c Reconstructing an Ancient Aquatic Lifeway in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin,

Michoacán, Mexico. Ancient Mesoamerica 25 (1), pp. 49-67.

2015 The Salt of the Earth: Ethnoarchaeology of Salt Production in Michoacán,

Western Mexico. British Archaeological Reports. BAR International Series
2725. Archaeopress, Oxford.

2017 Tarascan Pottery Production in Michoacán, Mexico: An Ethnoarchaeological

Perspective. Archaeopress, Oxford.

2018a Ceramic Ethnoarchaeology in Huáncito, Michoacán, Mexico. Ancient

Mesoamerica 29, pp. 11-44.

2018b La sal de la tierra: etnoarqueología de la producción salinera en el occidente de

México. (Second Edition). El Colegio de Michoacán and Fideicomiso Teixidor,
Zamora and Mexico City.

2019 Elaboración de sal con técnicas tradicionales en la costa de Michoacán:

perspectiva etnoarqueológica. Arqueología Mexicana XXVII (158), pp. 63-67.

Williams, Eduardo and Lorenza López

2009 Las sociedades complejas de Mesoamérica: una perspectiva diacrónica. In Las
sociedades complejas del Occidente de México en el mundo mesoamericano:
homenaje al Dr. Phil C. Weigand, edited by Eduardo Williams, Lorenza López
and Rodrigo Esparza. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Williams, Eduardo and Phil C. Weigand

 770

2004 Introducción. In Bienes estratégicos del antiguo Occidente de México:

producción e intercambio, edited by Eduardo Williams. El Colegio de
Michoacán, Zamora.
2011 Mesoamérica, debates y perspectivas a través del tiempo. In Mesoamérica:
debates y perspectivas, edited by Eduardo Williams, Magdalena García, Manuel
Gándara, and Phil Weigand. El Colegio de Michoacán, Zamora.

Williams, Glyn
1974 External Influence and the Upper Río Verde Drainage Basin of Los Altos, West
Mexico. In Mesoamerican Archaeology: New Approaches, edited by Norman
Hammond. University of Texas Press, Austin.

Wittfogel, Karl
1957 Oriental Despotism: A Comparative Study of Total Power. Yale University
Press, New Haven.

Woldekiros, Helina S.
2019 The Road Most Traveled: The Afar Salt Trail, North Ethiopia. Chungará (Arica)
51 (1), pp. 1-16.

Wolf, Eric R.
1959 Sons of the Shaking Earth. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

1982 Europe and the People without History. University of California Press, Berkeley.

1999 Envisioning Power: Ideologies of Dominance and Crisis. University of

California Press, Berkeley.

Wood, Frances
2002 The Silk Road. The Folio Society, London.

Wylie, Alison
2002 Thinking from Things: Essays in the Philosophy of Archaeology. University of
California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London.

Zepeda, Gabriela
1994 Ixtlán: ciudad del viento. INAH-Grupo ICA, Mexico City.

1998 Dos mil años de piedra, adobe y palma: la importancia del estudio de la vivienda
prehispánica y contemporánea en Nayarit. In El Occidente de México:
perspectivas regionales. Actas del IV Coloquio de Occidentalistas, edited by
Ricardo Ávila. Universidad de Guadalajara and Orstom, Guadalajara.

2007 Cañada de la Virgen, San Miguel Allende: la casa de los trece cielos. In Zonas
arqueológicas en Guanajuato, cuatro casos: Plazuelas, Cañada de la Vírgen,
Peralta y El Cóporo. Fideicomiso de Administración e Inversión, and Ediciones
La Rana, Guanajuato.