Cummins y Mannheim-The River Around Us [PDF]

Zitiervorschau

Editorial The river around us, the stream within us, the traces of the sun and Inka kinetics TOM CUMMINS and BRUCE MANNHEIM

The stones of the Inka wall were larger and stranger than I had ever imagined; they bubbled beneath the whitewashed second story, which facing the narrow street, was blind (i.e. no windows). Then I remembered the Quechua songs, which continually repeat one pathetic phrase: yawar mayu, river of blood; yawar unu, bloody water; puk-tik’ yawar k’ocha, lake of blood that boils; yawar wek’e, “tears of blood.” Couldn’t one say yawar rumi, “stone of blood,” or puk’ tik’ yawar rumi, “boiling stone of blood”? The wall was stationary, but its lines were seething and its surface was changeable, as that of the flooding summer rivers, which have similar crests near the center, where the current flows the swiftest and is the most terrifying. The Indians call these muddy rivers yawar mayu, because when the sun shines on them they seem to glisten like blood. They also call the most violent tempo of the war dances, the moment when the dancers are fighting, yawar mayu. Puk’tik yawar rumi! ’ I exclaimed aloud, facing the wall.”1 —José María Arguedas, Rios Profundos (1958)

How are we to understand this passage? What is it that provoked Arguedas’s narrator and protagonist to cry out “boiling stone of blood” when he first saw the Inka walls of Cuzco? What did it mean for him to hear Inka walls in the lyrics of Quechua songs? What could one experience in the stationary and oh so solid Inka walls that make them so animate and fluid to be bloody 1. “Eran más grandes y extrañas de cuanto había imaginado las piedras del muro Inkaico; bullían bajo el segundo piso encaldo, que por el lado de la calle angosta, era ciego. Me acordé. Entonces de las canciones quechuas que repiten una frase patética constante: ‘yawar mayu,’ río de sangre; ‘yawar unu‘ agua sangrienta; ’puk-ti‘ yawar k’ocha,’ lago de sangre que hierve; ’yawar wek’e,’ lágrimas de de sangre. ¿Acaso no podría decirse ’yawar rumi,’ piedra de sangre o, ’puk’ tik’ yawar rumi,’ piedra de sangre hirviente? Era estático el muro, pero hervía por todas sus íneas y la superficies era cambiante, como las de los ríos en el vernao, que tienen una cima así, hacia el central de caudal, que es la zona temible, la más poderosa. Los indios llaman ’yawar mayu‘ a eso ríos turbios, porque muestran con el sol un brillo en moviemento, semejante al de la sangre. También llaman ‘yawar mayu’ al tiempo violento de las danzas guerreras, al momento que los bailarines luchan. ¡Puk’tik yawar rumi!—eclamé frente al muro, en voz alto (Arguedas 1958:11).

and boiling? What was it that a twentieth-century song could evoke in its “pathetic” words and music, such that vivid and fluid images could be envisioned and be heard? Could it be that this is merely the literary flourish of the individual imagination of an author? Or, is there something more to be seen and felt by an Andean than is experienced by the most inveterate visitors, be they poets, scholars, or tourists?2 What kind of synaesthetics is this in which the natural world, the animate world, and the cultural world are mixed so thoroughly by one’s own physical experience? After all, for most anyone coming from the outside, the natural world of the Andes gives, on first glance, the appearance of immutability, austerity, and intractability, almost anything other than being alive and animate. Yet this is a sacred world of the Inka, and Inka art and architecture, which, for Arguedas at least, is alive, shimmering, and liquid and integral to that world. For others, however, Inka art and architecture seems only to mimic the starkness, stillness, and harshness of the Andes. Or, at least, this is the impression of George Kubler who wrote of Inka art that “the intrinsic meaning of Inka art reinforces the general impression of an oppressive state. It is as if, with the military expansion of the empire, all expressive faculties, both individual and collective, had been depressed by utilitarian aims to lower and lower levels achievement.” (Kubler 1975:335). Kubler finds an odd bedfellow in Georges Bataille who wrote some fifty years earlier that “by the meticulous organization of an immense army the Inkas’ power spread over a considerable part of South America. [. . .] Everything was planned ahead in an airless existence. [. . .] Given these conditions it is not surprising that the Inka Civilization is relatively dull” (Bataille [1928] 1986:3–5). And lest we attribute the judgments of these scholars to the closure of the academy, consider the words of one of the great poets of the twentieth 2. Scholarship on the Inka basically follows a European model of focusing on a single medium of expression, be it stone, metal, textile, ceramic, or architecture.

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century, Pablo Neruda, reflecting on the Inka walls of Machu Picchu ([1948] 1985: 127): “Piedra en piedra, el hombre, dónde estuvo?” (“Stone on stone, and man, where was he?”), opening a poetic argument that is similar to Bataille’s. Perhaps, what these men say about the Inka may appear to be true for some: that they are dull and lacking of any expression. But then again maybe not, or a least not in the terms by which these men measured Inka art and civilization, even though they arrived at their conclusions from radically different perspectives. Or perhaps they did not, not really, come from such different perspectives. But that is a discussion for another time and place. What interests us here is how inert and lifeless they saw Inka art and culture to be, and how fundamentally, perversely wrong they both were; if we are to read seriously what Arguedas so beautifully wrote about Inka walls. But what could Arguedas mean, a meaning that is so different from that of such erudite men of France, and Chile, and the United States? What we shall ultimately argue is that they literally could not see past either the forest or the trees, or more precisely liquid or water; earth or sky; stone or mountain to understand and appreciate the dynamics of Andean expression, and especially Inka art, as something that was and still is so carefully attuned with the coursing of life and movement that it is impossible to distinguish between the natural and cultural, sacred and mundane. It is an aesthetic that takes light and liquid, hardness and softness as sources of expression and casts them in various guises across skies and landscapes, buildings and bodies. Nothing in the Andes of the Inka is as it appears to the likes of Kubler, Bataille, Neruda and so many lesser others.3 Neither they nor the first Spaniards could see (or even now when so many archaeologists witness only the cold remains of things) that a crafted, created world was so animated that those who lived it, inhabited it, could sing it aloud, such that the hard stones were experienced as turbulent rushing waters. Mayu/qaqa: river/stone And so we begin with an Inka ritual payer, a prayer that was surely sung before it was ever written down. It was transcribed in the early seventeenth century by a native Peruvian provincial lord, Juan de Santa 3. To be fair, there are also an increasing number of scholars such as Van de Guchte (1990), Paternernosto (1996) and Dean (2007) who have studied Inka art (sculpture, textiles, and ceramics) with much more nuanced approaches and sympathies.

Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui, who wrote an account of Inka dynastic mythology in which he included ritual poetry. A portion of the poem has the following invocation of the deity Wiraqucha ([1613] 1993:f.9v [200]): Intiqa Killaqa P’unchawqa Tutaqa Puquyqa Chirawqa Manam yanqachu Kamachisqam purin

Sun Moon Day Night the season of ripeness the season of freshness do not simply exist [but] are ordered

Wiraqucha, the Inka deity of the beginning, was given the epithet pacha yachachiq, “the one who causes the world to have practical knowledge or language” (Betanzos [1551] 1987:14; Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui [1613] 1993:f.14r [209]). In another prayer transcribed by Cristóbal de Molina, Wiraqucha divides male and female by saying, kay qhari kachun, kay warmi kachun (let this be man, let this be woman), creating men and women in six short words (Molina [1576] 2008). The invocations of Wiraqucha recorded by Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui and by Cristobal de Molina “El Cuzqueño” (1576) celebrate the ability of Wiraqucha to align the order of the world to language.4 The passage that we quoted before by Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui (so evocative of Genesis 8:21) asserts that the sun and the moon, day and night, the season of ripeness and the season of freshness are not yanqa, a Southern Peruvian Quechua word for purposeless being, useless action, and speech uttered without conviction. The sun and moon, day and night, and the seasons do not simply exist. Instead, they are kamachisqa (ordered, organized, imbued with vital force), a word derived from the root kama (to order, to organize, or to have essence). The invocation to Wiraqucha can be paraphrased thus: “The sun and moon, day and night, and the seasons of ripeness and freshness do not simply exist, but exist by virtue of an order among them.” This belief is reflected in the form of the invocation. The terms are introduced in mutually defining matched pairs. Each term is followed by the suffix -qa, the semantically emptiest suffix in the language, which makes the set of words more than just a list: It is the simplest form of semantic coupling, a characteristically Quechua poetic device, in which two semantically related words appear in successive lines, in identical morphological contexts. The suffix -qa 4. Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 1988:84) also attributes this generative power to the mytho-historic Inka king Viracocha.

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is the minimum possible morphological context.5 The fullness of the linguistic analysis appears in Mannheim (1998), but here we want simply to stress two issues that are fundamental to understanding how the Inka might have thought about the images they created. First, the terms of the couplets do not exist in isolation—they are relational, mutually defining in such a way that neither can exist without the other. And they are not merely static categories, but have a kinetic existence, their kinesis signaled by the verb puriy. Puriy has sometimes been mistranslated as “to travel,” but it is far more inclusive, comprehending anything with a kinetic existence: the gears of a wristwatch, the workings of a political program, the sexual act, and the existence of the mountain deities—the Apus—who puriy even, though they physically stay in one place (ibid.:244 ). And so let us begin again and this time with a passage from 1553, in which Cieza de León tells us about the nature of the men and women of Peru. About the women he says that one sees them everywhere constantly spinning the wool of llamas and vicuñas; whereas one sees men standing with a cup filled with aqha (corn beer) held in one hand and while in the other they hold their member as they urinate.6 We shall return to the latter, non-distaff part of this passage, but it is enough to say now that these two descriptions refer to an Andean world in motion and circulation that, unbeknown to Cieza de León—who found the first instance a sign of industry and propriety and the second a sign of disrepute and idleness—was integral to a circulation of the sustaining life forces of Andean cosmology. This is to say that Cieza de León was a soldier who wrote about what he saw with little understanding or depth, very much like

5. At the same time, we recognize with Itier (1993, 1995) and Duviols (1993) that the Quechua orations registered by Pachakuti Yamqui and by Molina were shaped by their contexts within Christian, monotheistic apologetics and cannot be taken to be mere “repetition” of “remembered” prayer. The use of semantic couplets in the text reflect specifically Quechua poetic traditions (there is no chain of transference that can link them causally to the parallelistic traditions in the Hebrew Bible; Quechua semantic couplets work structurally in ways that are different from Hebrew parallelism; and they pervade nonreligious contexts more than religious ones, so they do not likely have a specifically religious source), contra Itier (1993:140) that there are no specifically Quechua rhetorical moves in the orations. There is a minor difference in the syntactic interpretation of the passage quoted from Itier, reflecting a distinct reading of the holograph, based on whether or not a mark was intended as a comma. The difference in interpretation does not affect the argument here. 6. “[. . .] muchos tienen con la mano la vasija con que estan bebiendo y con la otra el miembro con que orinan.” Cieza de León [1553] 1986:282. See also Allen (2009).

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Kubler and Bataille, but who nonetheless possessed a much more penetrating observation of things and actions that were and still are meaningful to the generation and sustenance of an Andean world. And as we will see, they are part and parcel of the visions of an Inka wall as voiced by Arguedas. His passage also allows us to talk more about the concept of kinetic in the Andes and in Inka art in particular: It is to enter into a physical world of aesthetic and metaphysical activity that is fully corporeal; a world that is non-Cartesian. Let us first then look at an environment so transformed in appearance and being that all that might seem so solid, immoveable, inanimate, and inert flows with movement or in turn exerts a will not to be moved. If we cast a gaze onto the magisterial slopes of Machu Picchu there are, of course, the ever so famous tiered and carefully groomed terraces that seem to ascend magnificently and geometrically in everreduced curved retaining walls (fig. 1). At the same time, however, there is the living rock that is also skillfully worked so as to simulate the flowing motion down the grades of terraces as if appearing almost to be liquid but caught, almost momentarily frozen, in place. The geometric pattern of the stepped terraces so laboriously built are here counterbalanced by the “natural” boulders. But these are not merely natural boulders, left where they are because they could not be moved. Rather, they have been left and perhaps worked so as to allow the appearance of a flowing motion down the mountain side. If we look at their exposed surfaces we see that they are all angled to appear as if moving in a downward direction. Here the hardness and stability of the lithic appears to have been liquefied, as if pouring, like the channeled waters gushing onward, into the great river below and eventually reaching the ocean. In fact, the sky above and the ground below are recognized as conduits for an ever-flowing source of cosmic force that transforms the state of being as it courses through the universe of which stone is a part. This may sound abstract but it is very concrete, as one comes to see it manifest in various forms of Inka art and architecture. Kinesis, meaning an energizing or dynamic rather than mechanical sense of movement, is a principle of Inka aesthetics that integrates rock, light, water, and air. For example, as Gary Urton has demonstrated, the Milky Way, something that is so brilliant in the Andean night sky, is conceived as a river, in fact called Mayu or “river.” It flows across the sky, perpetually in motion, arising out of the sea (Mamaqucha) and settling back into it. As it courses through the night it seeds the sky with a fructifying rain that falls, then flows down the

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Figure 1. Western slope of Machu Picchu with terraces and worked boulders, ca. 1500. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

rivers into the earth until it reaches back to the ocean. Beginning the never-ending cycle again, the water from Mamaqucha rises to flow through the Milky Way and carries with it the cosmic llamas, foxes, and other animals that form the constellations in the sky and which are the master animals that ensure their increase on earth (Urton 1981:38, 56–65, 106–150). This is a cosmic circulation that fructifies and sustains the world, a movement that is augmented in a variety of ways though a host of microcosms. All this movement and circulation finds expression in Inka art and architecture by harnessing the medium of expression (stone, metal, body) with the kinetic medium—be it light, water, shadow, or direction. For example, at Ollantaytambo, the course of water leads through the valley so that it streams over the face of a worked boulder (fig. 2). It highlights by the contrast of wet and dry stone the recursive step-fret motif that is sometimes given the Quechua name chakana, which according to González Holguín ([1608], 1989:84), simply means escalera or stairs, but which is also replicated in the cosmos in the constellation of Orion’s belt. As Urton’s work— developed initially in a small community outside of Cusco—shows, Inka ethnoaxiology is fully grounded not as the self-reflections of a state, but in the practical

reason of the mundane.7 What is more, even in the precincts of the state, circulation of water was imbued with practical politics (Sherbondy 1987). If we return to the invocation to Wiraqucha with which we began this article, we can understand this relationship between stone and water a bit better. Remember it was as follows: Intiqa Killaqa P’unchawqa Tutaqa Puquyqa Chirawqa Manam yanqachu Kamachisqam purin

Sun Moon Day Night the season of ripeness the season of freshness do not simply exist [but] are ordered

The tradition of “semantic couplets” appears not only in the invocation to Wiraqucha and in other early conquestera sources on Peru, but in the modern Quechua

7. There is a substantial ethnographic literature on the practical, political, and ritual logic of the circulation of water in the Andean region today. Three excellent starting points (all from the Colca Valley of Arequipa) are Valderrama and Escalante (1988); Treacy (1994); and Gelles (2000).

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Figure 2. Fountain at Ollantaytambo, ca. 1500. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

sung poetry of huaynos, a popular music that is still pervasive in the central Andes, which inspired Arguedas’s protagonist. These songs draw on the same stock of couplets, including such frequent ones as: mama/tayta munay/waylluy waqay/llakiy llaqta/ wasi ripuy/pasay mayu/qaqa wakcha/pobre inti/killa

mother/father desire/love affectionately cry and feel sorrow/feel sorrow (home) town/house go back/go back (Spanish) river/rock orphan, poor/poor sun/moon

The sequential order of the terms in semantic couplets is almost always the same, a relatively unmarked term paired with a relatively marked one, closely related to the first—with no possibility of another term intervening in the relationship. For abstract concepts like munay/ waylluy (desire/love affectionately) or waqay/llakiy (cry and feel sorrow/feel sorrow), the relationship between the terms is fairly transparent—the second term in the pair is more specific than the first one, narrowing the semantic field, as it were. For very concrete nouns such as mama (mother)/tayta (father) or llaqta ([home] town)/ wasi (home), the second term seems to presuppose the existence of the first. Pairs like these, and mayu (river)/

qaqa (rock), and inti (sun)/killa (moon) are misleading in their naturalness, in that they seem to be exact counterparts of their English or Spanish translations. But the cognitive organization of these word stems in Quechua cannot be approached without considering the cognitive structures within which they are embedded, including lexical domains, implicit theories, and tacitly related cultural assumptions. At first glance, it seems odd that mayu (river) should form a pair with qaqa (rock), but as we have seen, Quechua speakers understand rock to be a substance that flows like water in the veins of the mountains. River and rock are also associated in mythology. The question that must be posed is how do semantic couplets reflect both broader patterns in the organization of the lexicon and the specifically cultural logic of word? Semantic couplets, then, take lexical relationships that are normally covert and bring them to the surface. Qaqa (rock) is the marked counterpart of mayu (river)—both flow. Qaqa (rock) is in turn the unmarked counterpart to rumi (segmented rock, stones). Compare two pairs constructed by similar principles: rit’i (snow, solid water)/chullunku (ice, segmented); and (in southern Quechua prior to the nineteenth century) unu (water as a substance)/yaku (water under irrigation). (Today, Southern Quechua speakers use one word or the

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Figure 3a. “Acalla Praying to the Sun,” folio 7v in Martín de Murúa Historia del Origen y Genealogía Real de los Reyes del Piru, de sus hechos, costumbres, trajes, maneras de gobierno, begun ca. 1589, finished ca. 1613. Private collection. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

Figure 3b. “Coricancha,” folio 64v in Martín de Murúa Historia del Origen y Genealogía Real de los Reyes del Piru, de sus hechos, costumbres, trajes, maneras de gobierno, begun ca. 1589, finished ca. 1613. Private collection. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

other to mean “water.”) In each of these sets, the kinesis that inheres in the first, unmarked, term is harnessed in the second. It is important here to follow the logic of the language, not of the objects that the words denote or the translation of the words into English or Spanish. It makes as little sense to question the rationality of the mayu/qaqa (river/ rock) relationship with reference to the objects that the words “river” and “rock” denote as it does to account for the fact that the Navaho expression for “sorrow” belongs to a covert “round” class (Whorf [1945] 1956:91) by searching for a universal characteristic of sorrow that would make it round.

that carries the water that is channeled ever downward to the river below. We shall return to the coursing of liquid, but first we want to look at the other energizing force that is so ever-present in Inka expression. This is, of course, the sun, worshipped as the paramount deity, Inti. The sun is naturally a brilliant object in the sky and is manifest again as light and shadow as it casts itself upon the earth. If we look at two late sixteenth-century watercolors (figs. 3a and b) we see the sun both as the solar being in the sky and its image worshipped within its temple known as the Coricancha (golden enclosure). There is something else to be seen in these watercolors, which are the temples themselves— unadorned, simple stone structures with yellow grass roofs, bathed in sunlight. These images capture neatly the fact that the Inka did not use figural sculpture to mark the presence of the sacred. We will suggest that the sacred is manifest directly by the sun just as it is by water and stone. It is marked directly on the walls through the sun’s own sacred energy; the stone on the wall upon which it reveals itself also possesses a sacred energy that is made visible.

“The wall was stationary, but its lines were seething and its surface was changeable” The slopes of Machu Picchu are a visual instantiation of the pairing formed by mayu and qaqa, by river and rock. The hard stone is cut like tapered boulders, thin at the top and bulbous at the base, such that it appears to flow off the mountainside through nature’s force, a force

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Figure 4a. “Inca Urcun and the Tired Stone,” folio 37v in Martín de Murúa, Historia del Origen y Genealogía Real de los Reyes del Piru, de sus hechos, costumbres, trajes, maneras de gobierno, begun ca. 1589, finished ca. 1613. Private collection. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

Figure 4b. “The ninth captain, Urcon Inka,” p. 161 in Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno, ca. 1615. Royal Library, Copenhagen, Denmark, GKS 2232 4°. Photo courtesy of Royal Library, Copenhagen.

Inka sites are justly famous for their masonry, but to some scholars, such as Kubler or Bataille, their appearance suggests the utilitarian or the dull, as they lack the exuberance of architectural sculpture. But the “unadorned” walls of Cuzco, for example, are in fact stunningly beautiful as the high Andean sun rakes across them. Cut to precision such that the individuality of each stone embraces and fits with all surrounding ones, one can see the state’s capacity to command the labor to build them. The labor-intensive character of Andean social organization is articulated through the carefully beveled joins of multi-angled stones of sometimes cyclopedian dimensions.8 Protrusions on the surface that probably were used to help place the stones by means of logs are left in place. These are intentional masonry

details that are intensified by the light and shadow that is cast by the sun. To understand that the articulated joins of Inka walls in Cuzco participate in a pan-Andean (aesthetic?) understanding of a wall in relation to the sun, one need only stand and look at these walls in the rarified air at eleven thousand feet. There is much less atmospheric interference at this altitude, which makes light and shadow much more intense. This effect is captured by the walls.9 Before we continue with a discussion of the animating force of the sun on the Inka walls, it is important to reiterate that the stone itself is not necessarily inert. If we study two other images by the Andean artist Guaman Poma we can see how this animating force was articulated visually using Western-style drawing (figures 4 a and b). Though the images come from different manuscripts, they both depict an event that is similarly described in their respective texts, which concerns a large stone that is being dragged from one site to the

8. The labor and social identity as being an expression with the construction and maintenance of a wall has been suggested for the Moche at Huaca de Luna and Wari walls at Pikilllaqta and has been brilliantly described and analyzed in contemporary communities by Urton (1988).

9. See also Billie Jean Isbell (1982).

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next.10 At a certain point the stone becomes too tired, weeps blood and eventually comes to rest where it is. And although the texts describe the stone’s travels differently—it is either carried from Quito to Cuzco in one version, which is a north to south direction; or from Cuzco to Guanaco Pampa in the other version, which is a south to north direction—they are depicted traveling in the same direction. That is, composition overrides any difference in the narrative of the event. The figures also are arranged slightly differently, but, again, the narrative moment is the same. However, the stone, the protagonist of the story, is treated entirely differently. In Guaman Poma’s own image in the Nueva Coronica, the natural shape of the stone is suggested by the undifferentiated roundness that defines its contours. The weeping of blood is indicated by a patterning of streaming lines that become thicker as they pour down the side, and therefore is reminiscent of the abstract sign of the stigmata as used in the Franciscan coat of arms, which is often used in the woodcut frontispieces of devotional and catechetical texts. Below the two horizontal rows of blood is written “Lloró sangre la piedra,” so as to ensure the correct iconographic reading of the liquid. The use of the stigmata form also ensures that there can be an unarticulated association between the bloody tears of the stone and the animating force of Christ’s blood. One also can make the association between this bloody stone and the Inka walls as described by Arguedas. The stone in the first version treats its animacy in an entirely different way. First, the outline of the stone is not conventionalized as a rounded shape but is given an irregular outline. However, within this form is sketched the regular form of an ashlar block, into which it would be carved once it reaches its destination in Cuzco. In other words, the form of what is to become is already existent within its natural state. This may sound like a modernist sculpture’s manifesto, but what is visually expressed is, we believe, the Quechua idea of kamay, or the potentiality existent within any natural state to be

10. The exertion of the will of an object to come to rest at a specific but unintended place is a rather common belief, and many Christian objects including architecture are ascribed similar histories. It is the aspect of kamay and how it is illustrated in these two images that distinguishes the Andean version of the story. 11. Gerald Taylor (1976) has written a penetrating analysis of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century uses of the root kama-. As regards the verbal form, kamay, “nous le traduisons par ‘animar’ en donnant à ce terme la valeur multiple que lui accorde Garcilaso, c’est-à-dire: ‘transmettre la force vitale et la soutenir, protéger la personne ou la chose qui en sont les bénéficiaires.’ Le monde animé des Andes

realized as a metaphysical presence of the sacred.11 This notion is intensified by the anthropomorphism of the stone itself. Guaman Poma endows it with a pair of eyes that look forward and in the direction it is moving. These differences in the image are only slight, but they create an entirely different expression and mood. The Guaman Poma image of 1590 is one that is more revealing about what is at stake in the narrative whereas the Nueva Coronica drawing is more illustrative of the facts of the narrative and align the animating force with that of Christianity. If we then move back to the real walls of Cuzco and elsewhere, we can perhaps think of the way the walls are made of light and shadow cast against the physical properties of a wall as having critical Andean metaphysical importance articulated through the carefully beveled joins of multi-angled stones as well as subtle carvings on the surface. This relationship between wall and sun as a kinetic expression of cosmic forces is born out in the mythology as recorded in Huarochiri, the only colonial-era narrative in Quechua, the language of the Inka. In explaining the origins of the cult of Pariacaca, the paramount divinity of the area, the narrator says: Pariacaca began to lay down the rules for his worship. His law was one and the same in all the villages: We are all of one birth (i.e. ayllu). They say that Pariacaca gave a command to one particular person in each village: “Once every year you are to hold a celebration every year commemorating the customs I have established.” He then said “As for their title of these people they will be called huacsa.” The huacsa will dance three times each year bringing coca in an enormous leather bag. To first become a huacsa, people in fact perform a certain ritual. évoque un horizon beaucoup plus vaste que son équivalent occidental; toute chose que possède une fonction ou une fine est animée a fin que sa fonction ou sa fine puissent être réalisés: les champs, les montagnes, les pierres aussi bien que les hommes” (Taylor 1976:235). We would add the note of caution that the meanings “animate” and “transmit a vital force” do not require the action kamay to have an agent. For this reason, the Third Council of Lima (Tercer Concilio Limense 1584:77v) chose to use the word ruraque (one who makes something) rather than camaque in the Quechua translation of the Nicene Creed. Were they to have used camaque, the translation would have been ambiguous, since camaque can also be understood as the agent of the vital force, an entity or person infused with a vital force, or as the prototype for a species or object. (They were not consistent in their usage, however; see ibid.:5r) The word kamachisqa is a nominalized [-sqa] causative [-chi] form of kamay. According to Taylor (1976:236), the causative suffix -chi indicates that the vital force is received from elsewhere: “on fournit à l’autre la capacité ou l’autorisation d’agir.”

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Figure 5. Sun on a wall at Ollantaytambo, ca. 1500. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

It is like this: a man of the Caca Sica ayllu functions as the officiant for these ceremonies. From early times these officiants were only one or two people, and, as for their title it was yanca (priest entitled by heredity) The same title is used in all the villages. This man observes the course of the sun [esta es la sombra que va haziendo la pared] [pirca is the word used in Quechua] from a wall in perfect alignment. When the rays of the sun touch this wall, he proclaimed to the people, “Now we must go.” —(Anonymous [ca. 1607] 1991:71–72)

What can be heard in the written version of this oral account are the critical elements of sunlight, shadow, and stone. They are not fixed but caught momentarily, and therefore index the constant state of change as light moves across a surface. Here, on a specific day, one could see time marked by the celestial movement of the sun as it touches walls and sets in motion rituals of initiation. There is no tangible mimetic sense of surrounding images such as can be found for the Aztec in their pictorial personifications of the sun. Of course, there were Inka images of the sun made in gold, but we do not know what they looked like, and it is most likely that whatever images there were, their significance was understood to reside in their reflective qualities

rather than any figural iconography. The paramount Inka temple dedicated to the sun, the Qurikancha, and other buildings in Cuzco seem to have been girded with golden plaques. If this is the case, then the sun’s reflection on these golden surfaces shared in the shifting state of sunlight’s essential elements (brilliance, shadow, and warmth) and also manifested divine presence. At Ollantaytambo in the sacred valley, the protuberances left on the face of the stones of its monolithic wall catch the sun and seem to ignite into pure energy (fig. 5). This play of light and shadow is also how we are to understand the enigmatic step fret design (chakana) carved in very low relief on the same wall. It catches the sun and marks a crisp shadow that sharply outlines the geometric shapes as a mark of time on the surface. And just as the light moves across the stone surface of a wall so as to highlight in a variety of ways, water courses through the Andes pouring down and darkening through moisture and flickering brilliance of the stones. The relationship between the two cosmic celestial forces of light and fluid in relation to stone is expressed in part by a common visual vocabulary just as it is in Quechua song poetry through semantic couplets. That is, the step-fret design (chakana) carved in low relief

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Figure 6. Boulder in Saphi River above Cuzco, ca. 1500. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

on the wall of Ollantaytambo is the same as the one caved into the living rock of the fountain below, where water animates the stone as it flows over it and into a pool. The design cut into the stone can be activated either by having the water pour over it or reflect upon it. This image is cut into a boulder in the Saphi River that originates behind Sacsahuaman and then flows into the sacred city of Cuzco, becoming the Huatanay and defining one of the borders of the sacred city. This boulder and the carving became a focal point of the December ritual sacrifice called Mayucati when all the remains of the year’s sacrifices were gathered together. At the same time a series of dams were built in the river.12 When the first dam was broken, the water rushed forward, bursting through all the other dams built below, thereby picking up ever-increasing force until the water rushed though Cuzco carrying the residue of all the year’s sacrifices with it (Cristóbal de Molina [1576] 2008:108–109). Where the Saphi joined the

12. Several chroniclers including José de Acosta (2002:305–306, 312, 317) and Bernarbé Cobo (1990:146), mention this ritual. The best description, however, is by Molina ([1576] 2008:31–33).

Tullumayu, the second river that defined the Cuzco’s other border, called Puma Chupan, the Inka stood on either side awaiting the rushing water in order to throw the sacrificial remains into the river as an act of thanks, so as to not appear ungrateful to the “Hacedor de todas cosas (Virachocha). They were ordered to follow the waters as far as Ollanntaytambo, where they offered more sacrifices, so that if Virachoca resided in the sea, he would receive them” (ibid.). It is therefore interesting that the same design is cut into the fountain at Ollantaytambo whose waters also joined the river as it rushed to the Mamaqucha. Whether these two designs were related through ritual cannot be determined, but it is important to note that the design cut into the stone sitting in the streambed of Sapi river clearly participated in this December ritual (fig. 6). As late as in 1981 stone residue of the damming process could still be seen on the banks of the Saphi just below the Chakana boulder. During the ritual, the water backed up above the dam, deepening and becoming calmer before it was released. Before that release, the boulder must have appeared almost to be floating in the water, because just below the design a deep recess is carved, so that it allows any lapping to occur unseen and thus

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creates a smoother reflective surface. The pool is undammed, and water rushes into the city to cleanse it and take the year’s evil away. The purification ritual of the Inka recognizes the cycle nature of time and life through the coursing of this water. It fuses the image of the stone with the water and its rushing force as it channels them through the city and down the river to join again in endless circulation. The coursing of liquid is also channeled in various other ways and forms, such as a pakchapakcha cut into a rock. The flow of corn beer passes down the carved channel to then drain into the earth. The idea of a pakchapakcha is that the liquid courses through the channel and is transformed from one state to another. This is similar ontologically to the transformation of light on stone. The transformation can also be produced by bringing discrete objects of different materials together in proximity or by forming objects in a single material so as to express their relationship. The latter is best seen in a ceramic pakchapakcha that join the sculptural form of an urpu (aryboloid-shaped jar for transporting corn beer) and a chaki taklla (footplow) into a single composition (fig. 7), such that the offering of aqha (corn beer) is first poured into the urpu which then passes through the chaki taklla, finally emptying into the ground thereby completing a cycle of planting, harvesting, fermentation, and consumption as understood through these “utilitarian objects” and their quotidian use (Carrión Cachot 1955; Stone-Miller 2006, Cummins 2007:278–279). The kinetic here is a transformative act, engaging time and motion. To understand further what the kinetics of liquid can mean in terms of transformation, we turn to a mid-colonial Relación written by Felipe de Medina. It begins with his account concerning a coastal huaca, or sacred place, that he discovered still being used. Medina found that it was the principal huaca (sacred image) of the area and that it attracted an ongoing interregional pilgrimage. The importance of the sacred is underscored as he not only describes its form and its destruction, but he also gives an account of the architectural layout of the entrance to and interior of the temple as well as the significance of the rituals dedicated to the principal image, through which the idol gains a transformative agency. Medina writes about the sanctuary that the temple lies on a low hill, on the right hand side of the camino real; entering this temple by a narrow path way of walls built on either side, hand made of stone and mud, and one enters the temple, which is also walled and made the same material as the pathway, by different compartments and divisions, some that serve for those of highlands and

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Figure 7. Pakchapakcha composed of an urpu and chaki taklla, Chimu Inka, ca. 1500. Ceramic. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

others that serve for those from the lowlands, and for the women of these (two regions) there are also different entrances [. . .]13

Medina describes the temple compound with its entrance as having same horseshoe or “U” shape, similar to one of Peru’s oldest and most famous ritual centers: the “Old Temple” at Chavín de Huántar, wherein stood an image known popularly as the Lanzón, which could be thought of as a surrogate for the image that Medina destroyed. Medina describes the ingress, noting that the traveler was led through one of four entrances into the huaca’s innermost chamber not only proceeding along a passageway, but also the labyrinthine interior. Each

13. “[E]l adoratorio cae en una media loma, a mano derecha del camino real; empiezase a caminar y entrar a este adoratorio por un callejón de paredes, por una y otra banda, hecho a mano de piedra y barro, bien formado y muy curioso; tiene mas de una cuadra largo y se entra al adoratorio (que tambien está cercado y hecho de la misma pared que el callejón) por diferentes compartimientos y divisiones, unas que servian para los serranos y otros para los yungas, y para las mujeres destos hacían tambien diferentes entradas [. . .]” (Medina [1650] 1904:215).

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entrance was differently accessed, depending upon both the sex and the geographic/ethnic identity of the pilgrim. All four passages came together the center of the temple, arriving from four different directions. In the center of the adoratorio there was what Medina called an idol, which he describes in the following manner: [. . .] the idol was (made) of an extraordinary stone, and not like any from this area, rather it was brought from far away; I noted that it stood three and a half varas and three varas wide. It has very small eyes carved into surface and done appropriately; it also has carved in to it two very large horns that twist downward in the form of canals, with a depth of about two inches, ending in the snout itself, by which they pour the blood and chicha that they offer to it in sacrifice and there they study (interpret) its (the idol’s) signs. I found further on, a small (statue) of native sheep [llama] that they call mama llama, (made) the increase of them [. . .]

Medina ends his Relación by describing how the sculpted image was used and what its name was in Quechua: “[I]t is the case that when they offer it (the statue) sacrifices of corn beer and blood it (the liquid) ran through the canals of the idol, and it gave the appearance of how urine or some other liquid spilled onto the ground. The idol is called Ispana which means urinal or place one urinates.” While Medina focused on the concreteness of urination in translating the Quechua hisp’ay, the Quechua word could be used for any liquid flowing from a body. The surface of Choque Ispana was carved, not fully in the round, but as Medina writes, grabado. That is, the surface was carved in low relief, such that the lines that formed the anthropomorphic features of eyes, horns, and so on, also created the channels through which the libations poured from the top, coursing down the figure until they spilled to the ground. This ritual act is nominalized by the sculpture, at least as understood by Medina. He specifically says that the sculpture is called Ispana, a term that he translates as “place where one urinates.” It is clear that this is the name of the figure and that it is associated to the way the rituals enliven the sculpture; however, what is the ispana really intended to mean? It is important first to think of the kinetic quality of the scultures/huacas. Chicha and/or blood are poured down the figure, emphasizing the relation of the huaca to the ground in and on which it is placed. In the case of the huaca Ispana, the liquids, blood and chicha, are offered to it by being poured at the top or head so as to run down the figure through the incisions that create its iconography. The orientation of the sculptural form can

therefore only be conceived as being downward, just as it is with the Lanzón at Chavín de Huantar, even though its iconography suggests a standing figure. Moreover this movement acts to transform the liquids as they course down the canals such that they take on a different state of being, from blood to urine. Urine is thus one liquid, which essentially is in a continuous transformational process, a process that at Huacho is given a specific manifestation by the kinetic or fluid movement of the liquid down the canals of the idol called ispana. The transformation of chicha or blood into urine is not then to be understood as something disagreeable, as human waste, but rather as part of the essence of liquid, the continuous circulation of which is essential to the fecundity of the earth. Certainly this is implied in a prayer printed fewer than twenty years earlier, before Medina wrote his Relación concerning the “idolo choqque Ispana.” Juan Perez de Bocanegra (1631) in the southern highlands wrote a prayer in Spanish and Quechua dedicated to irrigation sources. In the Spanish version, rain is prayed for in the following “[. . .] madre fuente, laguna o manatial, dame agua sin cessar, orina sin parar[. . .],” the verb orinar reflecting a Southern Quechua ispay (hisp’ay). In this sense, the circulation of liquid in the form of rain as it becomes lake and river water to then pass to the ocean and back again is understood within the cosmic circulation of the Milky Way as we described earlier. All nature’s secretions are hisp’ay, just as are the secretions of liquid from humans—such as blood, urine, and perhaps even sweat, milk, semen, tears, and others. They all form a part of the process of the unending flow and transformation from one stage to another. This is, of course, what pakchapakchas are. The nature of liquid as well as the sun in the Andes is about transformation, a process unknowingly described by Medina. Equally important, the god called Huari in 1656 by Hacas Poma not only distributed land but also water. As Hacas Poma told it to a priest inquisitor, the huari, Coricuicyan urinated in two parts and two puquios (springs) appeared called Ocopuquio and Cucupuquio that are in the fields of this Ayllu, and Capabilaca urinated in three parts and appeared three puquios called Ucupampa, Colcacocha and Muchacpuquio that are also next to the fields of this Ayllu with which they water them and those from this Ayllu venerate [mochan] them [puquios] with live guinea pigs that they offer them and these said idols recognizing the power and knowledge that they had became friends and divided the fields between themselves and when they died they

Missing word? “appeared there in?” “appeared in three”?

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“since”? not “sense”? turned to stone, those from this Ayllu have venerated these idols ever sense.14

The “idol” found and described by Medina only six year prior to Hacas Poma’s testimony was called Choque Ispana, and so clearly associated with urination and water. But what does the act of urinating mean? Let us look at one myth about the form of the Inka’s punishment of guests who had come to Cuzco a year before and complained a bit too loudly that he had not provided enough drink (Santa Cruz Pachacuti [ca.1613] 1993:254). The following year he gave them a great cups of corn beer all day but did not allow his guests to get up to urinate. This punishment suggests more than mere physical discomfort. The Zapa Inka threatens the subsistence of his guests by breaking the chain of acts required for a bountiful agricultural year. Urine is equated with sufficient water supply as recorded in Pérez de Bocanegra’s prayer to irrigation sources, “[. . .] madre fuente, laguna, o manatial, dame agua sin cessar, orina sin parar [. . .].” Human urine conceptually is part of a water cycle and fecundity, especially during drinking feasts. An eyewitness details how during such a feast in Cuzco’s main plaza there were “two drainage canals [. . .] which must have been made for cleanliness and for draining rainwater in the plaza [. . .] (that) ran all day long with their urination.” “[D]os vertedores [. . .] que debían ser hechos para la limpieza y desaguadero de agua de las lluvias que caían en la plaza [. . .] (que) corrían todo el día orines, de los que en ellos orinaban [. . .]” (Estete [ca. 1535–1540] 1924:55). “Muchos tienen con la mano la vasija con que estan bebiendo y con la otra el miembro con que orinan” Cieza de León ([1553] 1984:282). And so if we first return to Cieza de León’s remarks about Andean men, his observations may signify much more than he realized. Drinking and urinating were related acts within the cosmic circulation of nature, as 14. “Y el dicho Coricuicayan orinó en dos partes y salieron dos puquios llamados Ocopuquio y Cucupuquio que estan en las chacaras deste aillo y Capabilaca orinó en tres partes y salieron tres puquios llamados Ucupampa, Colcacocha y Muchacpuquio que estan tambien junto a las chacras deste aillo con que las riegan y los mochan los de este aillo con cuyes vibos que les ofresen y estos dichos ydolos conociendo el poder y sabiduria que tenian se hisieron amigos y repatieron las chacras en si y quando murieron se conbirtieron en piedras y los deste aillo an mochado siempre estos ydolos.” (Hernando Hacas Poma 1656, folio 28 as cited in Duviols 1973:156–157).

Figure 8. Pakchapakcha composed of a hand holding a quero, Chimu Inka, ca. 1500, excavated at Macchu Picchu, Ht. 3.1. Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History 16962.

much as the coursing of water through the Andes and the Milky Way (Skar 1987). The relationship as described by Cieza de León is represented in two pakchapakchas. The first is a ceramic pakchapakcha from Machu Picchu (fig. 8). It is shaped in the form of a human hand holding a drinking cup. This pakchapakcha is almost a synecdochic illustration of the first part of Cieza’s description of the Andean male. The second pakchapakcha is a silver bowl, perhaps colonial, that was stolen from Cuzco’s archaeological museum and recovered only after it was badly damaged (fig. 9a and b). On the lip of the bowl is perched a small urpu, an aryballoid-shaped vessel used in Inka rituals for transporting and distributing aqha (corn beer). A tube connects this urpu to a man who stands at the center of the bowl [cocha], so that when liquid was poured into the urpu, it passed out of and into this small figure. He stands with both hands holding his penis as he appears in the act of urinating into a jar that forms the earth’s opening. The penis is hollow and open so that the liquid would actually pass through it. Such a depiction represents the process so graphically described by Cieza de León and Estete, by which the cultural substance, chicha, is transformed back into its natural state thereby completing the cycle and ensuring sufficient rain for the next harvest. Within the bowl are several sculpted animals, a male and female llama. They seem by their gender to suggest increase as is understood by the constellation seen by the Andeans in the Milky Way (Urton 1981:100, 187, 200, 207–208). Around the

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Figure 9a. Silver Pakchapakcha, ca. 1500–1550. Museo del Inka, Cuzco.

Figure 9b. Silver Pakchapakcha, detail of side, ca. 1500–1550. Museo del Inka, Cuzco.

exterior wall is another Andean male with a lampa or hand hoe, who may be either planting or harvesting crops. This small silver bowl, probably colonial-era, seems to express visually the complexity of liquid, flowing substances, the human body, and the cosmic

flow of kamay though the world. Another ceramic pakchapakcha manifests the distaff side of ispana/kamay and their life-giving energies of flowing transformation. It is a coastal ceramic figurine that depicts a mother breast feeding her child (fig. 10). She is seated cross-legged and

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Acosta, J. de 2002 The Natural and Moral History of the Indies, ed. J. Mangan; trans. F. Lopez-Morillas. Duke University Press, Durham, N.C. Allen, C. 2009 “Let’s Drink Together, My Dear: Persistent Ceremonies in a Changing Community,” in Drink, Power and Society in the Andes, ed. J. Jennings and B. Bowser, pp. 28–48. University of Florida Press, Gainesville. Anonymous [ca. 1607] 1991 The Huarochiri Manuscript: A Testament of Ancient and Colonial Andean Religion, trans. F. Salomon and G. Urioste, University of Texas Press, Austin. Arguedas, J. M. 1958 Rios Profundos. Editorial Losada, Buenos Aires. Bataille, G. [1928] 1986 “Extinct America,” trans A. Michelson. October 36:3–9. Betanzos, Juan de [1551] 1987 Suma y Narración de los Inkas. Atlas, Madrid. Carrión Cachot, R. 1955 “El Culto al Agua en el antiguo Perú: La Pakcha elemento cultural panadizo.” Revista del Museo Nacional 2 (2):50–140. Figure 10. Pakchapakcha of a nursing mother with urpu on her back, coastal Inka, ca. 1500. Ceramic. Photograph by Tom Cummins.

has an urpu on her back. She adjusts the rope that goes around her shoulders and the urpu as she holds the child in the other. Liquid is poured into the urpu and it courses through her body, nurturing the child at her breast before exiting through a tube positioned between her crossed feet. So if we return to Rios Profundos, the walls of Cuzco, and the slopes of Machu Picchu and were to hear the cry puk’ tik’ yawar rumi, “boiling stone of blood,” can we not now glimpse stone turning into liquid? Did the Inka not understand how it could be done with walls, liquids, bodies, and kinesis? Did they not have the capacity to it with an aesthetic that was more than utilitarian or cold?

Add “do” here?

Cieza de León [1553] 1984 Crónica del Perú, primera parte. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima. [1553] 1986 Crónica del Perú, segunda parte, 2nd edition, ed. F. Cantù. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima. Cobo, B. 1990 Inca Religion and Customs, trans. R. Hamilton. University of Texas Press, Austin. Cummins, T. B. F. 2007 “Queros, Aquillas, Uncus, and Chulpas: The Composition of Inka Artistic Expression and Power,” in Variations in the Expression of Inka Power, ed. C. Morris and R. Matos, pp. 266–309. Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, D.C. Dean, C. 2007 “The Inka Married the Earth: Integrated Outcrops and the Making of Place.” The Art Bulletin LXXXIX (3):502–518.

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Elsewhere it says “Andinos” too.

Duviols, P. 1973 “Huari y Llacuaz: Agricultores y Pastores: Un Dualismo Prehispanico de Oposición y Compementaridad.” Revista de Museo Nacional 34:153–191. 1993 “Estudio y comentario etnohistórico,” in Joan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yanqui Salcamaygua, Relación de antigüedades deste reyno del Piru, ed. P. Duviols and C. Itier, pp. 11–133. Centro de Estudios Regionales “Bartolome de las Casas,” Cuzco. Estete, M. de [ca. 1535–1540] 1924 Noticias del Perú, Collección de Libros y Documentos Referentes a la Historia del Perú, 2nd ser. 8, pp. 3–71. San Martí, Lima. Gelles, P. H. 2000 Water and Power in Highland Peru. Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, N.J. González Holguín, D. [1608] 1989 Vocabulario de la Lengua General de Todo el Perú Llamada Lengua Qquichua o del Inka. Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima. Guaman Poma de Ayala, P. [ca. 1615] 1980 Nueva corónica y buen gobierno, Mexico: Siglo XXI. www.kb.dk/elib/mss/poma/docs/boserup/ 2002c/ Isbell, B. J. 1982 “Culture Confronts Nature in the Dialectical World of the Tropics,” in Ethnoastronomy and Archaeoastronomy in the American Tropics, ed. A. F. Aveni and G. Urton, vol. 385, pp. 353–363. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, New York. Itier, C. 1993 “Estudio y comentario lingüístico,” in Joan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamaygua, Relación de antigüedades deste reyno del Piru, ed. P. Duviols and C. Itier, pp. 137–172. Centro de Estudios Regionales “Bartolome de las Casas,” Cuzco. 1995 “Las fuentes quechuas coloniales y la etnohistoria: el ejemplo de la relación de Pachacuti,” in Saberes y memorias en los Andes. In memoriam Thierry Saignes, ed.T. Bouysse-Cassagne, pp. 93–100. Institut des hautes études de l’Amérique Latine; IHEAL–Institut français d’études andines, Lima. Kubler, G. 1975 The Art and Architiecture of Ancient America: The Mexican, Maya, and Andean Peoples, 2nd edition. Penguin Books, Baltimore.

Mannheim, B. 1998 ‘“Time, Not the Syllables, Must Be Counted’: Quechua Parallelism, Word Meaning, and Cultural Analysis.” Michigan Discussions in Anthropology 13:245–287. Medina, F. de [1650] 1904 Relación del Licenciado Felipe de Medina, Vistador General de las Idolatrías de Arzobispado de Lima, Inviada al Ilustrísimo y Reverendismo Señor Arzobispo della en que le Da Cuenta de las Que se han Descubierto en el Pueblo de Huacho, donde ha Comenzado á Visitar desde 9 de Febrero hasta 23 de Marzo de 1650. In La Imprenta en Lima (1584–1824), vol. I, pp. 215–221. Casa del Autor, Santiago de Chile. Molina, C. de [ca. 1576] 2008 Relación de las Fábulas y Ritos de los Inkas. Universidad de San Martín de Porras Fondo Editorial, Lima. Murúa, M. de 1590 Historia del Origen y Genealogía Real de los Reyes del Piru, de sus hechos, costumbres, trajes, maneras de gobierno. Private collection. 1612 Historia General del Perú. J. Paul Getty Museum, Ms. Ludwig XIII 16. Paternernosto, C. 1996 The Stone & Thread: Andean Roots of Abstract Art, trans. E. Allen. The University of Texas Press, Austin. Perez de Bocanegra, J. 1631 Ritual Forumlario e instruccion de curas para la administracion a los naturales de estos Reynos los santos Sacramentos. Gerónymo de Contreras, Lima. Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamygua, Juan de [1613] 1993 Relación de Antigüedades Deste Reyno del Peru. Institut Français D’Etudes Andines, Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos “Bartolomé de Las Casas,” Cuzco. Santo Tomás, D. de [1560] 1995 Grammatica o Arte de la Lengua General del los Indios de los Reynos del Perú. Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos de “Bartolomé de las Casas,” Cuzco. Sarmiento de Gamboa, P. [1572] 1988 Historia de los Inkas. Miraguano Ediciones, Ediciones Polifermo, Madrid.

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Sherbondy, J. E. 1987 “Organización hidráulica y poder en el Cuzco de los Inkas.” Revista Española de Antropología Americana (Madrid) 17:117–153. Skar, S. 1987 “The Role of Urine in Andean Notions of Health an the Cosmos,” in Natives and Neighbors in Indigenous South America, ed. H. Skar and F. Salomon, pp. 267– 294. Gothenburg Etnographic Museum (Etnografiske Studier, 38), Gothenburg, Sweden. Stone-Miller, R. 2006 “Mimiesis as Participation: Imagery, Style, and Function of the Michael C. Carlos Museum Pakcha, an Inka Ritual Watering Device,” in Kay Pacha Cultivating Earth and Water in the Andes, ed. P. Dransart, pp. 215–224. BAR International Series 1478, Oxford. Taylor, G. 1976 “Camay capac et camasca dans le manuscrit quechua de Huarochirí.” Journal de la Société des Américanistes 63:231–244. Tercer Concilio Limense 1584 Doctrina christiana y catecismo para instrucción de los Indios. Antonio Ricardo, Lima. Treacy, J. 1994 Las Chacras De Coporaque: Andeneria Y Riego En El Valle Del Colca. Instituto de Estudios Peruanos, Lima. Urton, G. 1981 At the Crossroads of the Earth and Sky: An Andean Cosmology. University of Texas Press, Austin. 1988 “La arquitectura pública como texto social: La historia de un muro de Adobe en Pacariqtambo, Perú (1915–1985).” Revista Andina 6 (1):225–263. Valderrama, R. and C. Escalante 1988 Del Tata Mallku a la Mama Pacha. Riego, sociedad y ritos en los Andes peruanos. DESCO, Lima. Van de Guchte, M. 1990 “Carving the World: Monumental Sculpture and Landscape.” Ph.D. diss., University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaigne. Whorf, B. L. [1945] 1956 “Grammatical Categories,” in Language, Thought, and Reality, ed. John Carroll, pp. 87–101. MIT Press, Cambridge.

Please confirm name. Sklar?

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