Zacatecas Part 5: Ancient ruins of La Quemada

La Quemada, enigma of the north. One of my goals during our stay in Zacatecas was to visit La (ciudad) Quemada, which in Spanish means "the burnt city." This refers to a massive fire, traces of which were found by early Spanish visitors to the area. Carole and I, along with our Irish and German friends Denis, Julika, and Verena, visited the La Quemada site on our last full day in Zacatecas. La Quemada lies about 25 miles (approximately 56 kilometers) southwest of Zacatecas, about 1/2 way between Malpaso and Villanueva. From Zacatecas' El Centro, the trip takes about 40 minutes one way.

Above, Carole walks along one of the broad steps leading from a lower level of the ruins to the palace complex above on the ridge. The steps were perhaps 4 feet wide and 30 feet long, which suggests an area created for grand processions. The day was gorgeous and sunny, with fluffy white clouds punctuating a deep blue sky. In the distance lies a shining lake created by damming the Malpaso river.

Map of La Quemada ruins. The map above shows La Quemada strung out along a ridge that rises in a south to north axis about 1/2 mile long (see the map orientation). For a satellite photo of the site, click here. In the photo above, the dark green square on the left is the Chamber of Columns. Immediately above the Chamber of Columns is a lighter green square that is a large plaza. Just to the right of the plaza is the long slender rectangle of the Ball Court. At the right end of the Ball Court is the small square representing the Votive Pyramid. Above the Votive Pyramid, the main complex of rooms, terraces, plazas and small pyramids rises to the top of the ridge. Off to the far right is a defensive bastion built in the late stages of occupation. Apparently, the people of La Quemada were under attack in this period. Some archaeologists believe the traces of fire found by the early Spanish, and still evident in some places, indicate a violent end to the life of the city.

The Chamber of Columns is the first ruin you encounter. To the right of the Chamber, you can see the grassy plaza area. The Chamber of Columns sits on the first and lowest of a rising series of plateaus at the extreme south end of the ruins. The telephoto shot above was taken from the top of the ridge, looking toward the southeast. You can see the cultivated areas in the photo just above the Chamber. These were probably also cultivated in early times. La Quemada lies in a long, wide valley extending southwest from Zacatecas. The valley is watered by the Malpaso river, the damming of which has created a large lake just to the east of the ruins, which you can see in the first photo of this posting. The general area is fairly dry, but when irrigated by the river, it has been agriculturally productive for thousands of years. Early crops included maize, beans, squash, maguey, amaranth, tomato, and fruits. Archeological evidence indicates that the farming was done in communal terraces, with water carried up from the river below. In addition cultivated food, the whole area is thick with natural food plants such as the nopal cactus.

Massive columns dot the interior of the great Chamber. The size of this room, with its massive stone columns, is another indication that the area was a major religious/ceremonial center. The earliest settlements in the area were established around 200-300 AD, with the major occupation and building occurring between 500-900 AD. By 1000 AD, the site was abandoned. From at least early Spanish times people have speculated about the people and culture represented here. Early Spaniards, such as Fray Juan de Torquemada in 1615, held that La Quemada corresponded to the legendary Chicostomoc, a place where the Aztecs tarried for 9 years on their way to settling in the Valley of Mexico far to the south. Others have held that the ruins were a northern settlement of the great Empire of Teotihuacan, or perhaps one of the Toltec outposts. Some suggested that the Tarascan Empire of Michoancan may have created a bastion here against marauding Chichimeca nomads. Recent archaeological evidence suggests that the ceremonial center may have local roots, created by the indigenous people of the area for religious and later defensive purposes. No one knows the origins for sure, and La Quemada's position as the only major site for hundreds of miles in every direction gives it an extra aura of mystery.

Rhyolite stone columns rise massively against the sky. In the photo above, I was impressive by the size of these columns. It is hard to say how much taller they were originally, but as you can see from how they tower over me, they were constructed to support a large and very heavy structure. The stone structures were covered by a layer of "barro" (earth) and a vegetable fibre plaster, and then whitewashed with lime. If the whole complex was whitewashed and painted, it must have presented a magnificent sight when approached from afar, as it rose up the ridge from the flat valley against the azure sky.

La Quemada served as the local "Home Depot" for a thousand years. After it was abandoned somewhere between 900-1000 AD, the site was scavenged for building materials for the next 1000 years. This accelerated after the Spanish settled the area in the last half of the 16th Century and looked for easy sources of materials for their towns and haciendas . Approximately 15% of the site was destroyed by these activities, aside from natural deterioration. Above, workers haul cement to stabilize the walls of the Chamber of Columns.

Flowers graced the broad level area of the plaza next to the Chamber of Columns. We visited in late September, just at the end of the rainy season, and wildflowers bloomed everywhere. I haven't been able to identify this lovely little 5-pointed star flower.

Main ceremonial complex looms in the distance. In the photo above, you are looking north from the plaza next to the Chamber of Columns. The ridge along which the main section of terraces and palaces were built rises above the plateau on which the Chamber of Columns sits. The whole area glowed golden in the afternoon sun.

Broad stairway leads from the Ball Court to the main ceremonial complex. The walls lining either side of the Ball Court can be seen at the base of the stairs to the right of the tree at the bottom. There are several great staircases in the complex, all impressively built with flat stones. The lake formed from the Malpaso River shimmers in the distance. Beyond the lake, the highlands on the east side of the Malpaso Valley rise up to a rolling plateau.

View from the top of the ceremonial complex. The complex drops off down the hillside, level by level. Just below are rooms of palaces and ceremonial areas. The next level down, in the center of the photo, has a series of smaller rooms. I speculated that some of these circular and oval rooms may have been storage areas for food or other goods. Below those rooms, in the distance, you can see the Chamber of Columns. To the left of the Chamber, slanting down toward the left side of the photo, is the long Ball Court.

The Ball Court, looking north toward the Votive Pyramid at the far end. Ball courts are features found in major Mesoamerican ruins from Nicaragua to northern Arizona in the US. They were not just sports stadiums, but had major religious and ceremonial significance in various cultures of Mesoamerica for over 3000 years. While the specific rules of the game are unknown, it may have been played somewhat like volleyball or racquet ball, where the aim is to keep the ball in play. In some versions, only the hips could be used to strike the ball. The court's shape of a long, narrow "I" is a characteristic of the Epic Classic period (750-950 AD). Because the Ball Court is placed within the ceremonial complex, it undoubtedly had religious significance and quite possibly was associated with human sacrifice. Numerous polished clay floors have been found under the court, along with evidence of human burials. The walls lining the sides of the Ball Court were originally much higher but the stones were looted over the centuries for building materials.

Life goes on, even in this abandoned ruin. I happened to glance down to see this pair of mating grasshoppers near the Ball Court. Carole calls this "insect porn." Whatever else has happened over the 17oo years or so since humans first settled this area, insects like these have carried on with their lives. The remote ancestors of these grasshoppers may have witnessed great pyramids under construction, heard the screams of human sacrifice, seen the plumes of fire that ended La Quemada, and even hopped over the feet of newly arrived conquistadors. Today they carry on under the close inspection of a visiting Gringo, lending a sense of permanence to a place that has seen innumerable changes.

The Votive Pyramid peeps above a ruined palace. The surrounding plain, dotted with nopal cactus, stretches out to the eastern highlands which rim the Malpaso Valley. There is a sense of vast distances here, and silent open space that I found particularly affecting.

The Votive Pyramid is noted for the unusual steepness of its sloping sides. The Votive Pyramid is the best known structure of La Quemada, probably because it is so photogenic. The original structure was covered by a smooth mud plaster. Over the centuries this washed away revealing the stones and the mud mortar connecting them underneath. At some point the Pyramid began to collapse. The stairway you can see above, on the south side of the Pyramid, used to reach to the top of the structure, but most of it was destroyed in the collapse. Originally, a small temple or altar graced the top of the Pyramid, possibly the site of human sacrifice.

The Ball Court ends at the Votive Temple. One can imagine members of the losing team ascending the steps to the sacrificial altar. The photo was taken from the top of the ceremonial complex, looking southeast.

Wild flowers exuberantly explode from the side of a ruined wall. Another example of the continuity of life, even in a place that experienced disaster and ruin. According to Carole, these may be white marigolds.

The northern bastion, evidence of a desperate defense. Just beyond the top of the hill containing the main complex, the ridge dips and then rises again to another promontory. On top of this was a fortress with steep walls. The fortress ruins can just be seen on the top of the hill. The fortress used the natural stone features like those seen above as part of the defense. Snaking off to the right is a stone walkway connecting the main complex with the bastion. This area was developed very late in La Quemada's history, which suggests that this long-occupied center of agriculture and trade was under attack. Who were the attackers? No one knows, but they were probably the same that ultimately put La Quemada to the torch, giving it a name to replace the one no one now knows.

A road to nowhere. Above you see a telephoto closeup of the stone stairway spiraling around the back of the promontory to the bastion above. The Malpaso Valley stretches off to the north. If the attackers were nomadic Chichimecas coming into the area, they may have arrived from this direction, hence the location of the bastion.

An ancient road complex is a unique feature of La Quemada. Directly below are palace grounds and the remains of another pyramid. This level ends in a steep wall and cliffs just beyond the small ruins running across the top of the photo. These walls and cliffs drop down 150 feet or so to the fields you can see in the upper part of the photo. The dark green of the fields shows densely packed nopal cactus. A close examination of these fields reveals dark lines extending toward the top of the photo, and another veering off toward the upper right corner. These are the remains of ancient roads constructed with stone slabs and clay between 600-900 AD. The roads connect the main ceremonial and defensive complex with more than 200 ancient ruins which were outlying communities. More than 170 kilometers of these ruined roads have been detected, extending throughout the Malpaso Valley. These roads are a unique aspect of La Quemada in pre-Hispanic Mexico, and for centuries survived the traditional ploughs. Unfortunately, modern tractors have begun to obliterate the old roads.

Stairway to heaven. Another set of steep stairways rises up the wall toward the platform containing the palace and small pyramid seen in the previous picture. Vegetation grows through some of the crumbling walls. In their original whitewashed state, these walls would have gleamed splendidly in the bright sun of Zacatecas, broadcasting a message power and prosperity.

A view from below. At the base of the great walls, on the Ball Court level, one can appreciate the immense effort and level of organization needed to build this great complex. With no draft animals, no wheeled vehicles, and no iron tools, it must have taken careful planning, and a highly organized and skilled workforce to create something of this size and magnificence.

This ends Part 5 of my series on Zacatecas. I hope I have been able to share the sense of the awe which inspired me when I first came upon the wonderful ruins of La Quemada. If you ever visit Zacatecas, I strongly encourage you to take time to visit these lovely, lonely ruins.

As always, I appreciate your thoughts, comments, and questions. You can leave them either in the comments section below, or by emailing me directly. If you leave a question in the comments section, please include your email so that I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim

Zacatecas Part 4: Fantastic masks of the Rafael Coronel Museum

The Rafael Coronel Museum contains a huge collection of extraordinary masks. Carole has become an aficionado of indigenous Mexican masks, about a dozen of which adorn the walls of our Ajijic home. When she read about the thousands of masks contained in the Zacatecas' Rafael Coronel Museum, she put that on the top of her "must-see" list. The mask above is one of many which depict the natural world. Actual antlers and animal hair were used to heighten the realism of the mask, although I have never seen a deer with such as sinister grin. Since I am publishing this blog post on the eve of both Halloween (Oct. 31) and the Dias de los Muertos (Nov. 1-2), I decided to dedicate it to those two fiestas, closely linked on the calendar, but entirely different in tone, focus, and history. What they share is a delight in scary masks and haunted houses. For days/hours of operation, and fees of the Rafael Coronel Museum, click here.

An ideal location for a haunted house. The Rafael Coronel Museum occupies the ruins of the Convento de San Francisco, built in 1567, the first Franciscan convent in the province of Zacatecas. The construction was authorized by Pedro de Ayala, Bishop of Nueva Galicia (Guadalajara). I shot the photo above from a Teleferico car dangling high in the air on the ride down from La Bufa. The Templo, or church part of the convent, burned down 80 years after the convent was built but was quickly rebuilt in 1648. The Templo is the tall rectangular building on the left side with the white-topped dome. The Ex-Convento is the lower building on the right with the five portales (archways) facing the green lawn.

The Ex-Convento was extremely important to early Franciscan evangelization. The earliest missionary here was Fray Geronimo de Mendoza, who took up residence shortly after the convent was completed. The Convento de San Francisco de Zacatecas was one of the twelve most important of such complexes in the Americas. From here, missionaries fanned out through Northern Mexico and what is now the Southwestern United States. Above, a series of arched passageways seems to lure a visitor into mysterious regions beyond.

Gorgeously lush gardens suddenly appear when ruined corners are turned. Purple bougainevilla flowered in a quiet corner of the ruins. In the mid-1850's Benito Juarez became Mexico's first full-blooded Indian president and instituted the Reform Laws, aimed in part at curbing the overwhelming and pervasive power of the Catholic Church in Mexican society. For centuries, the Church had acted as an ally and apologist for the rich, and Juarez saw it as a major obstacle to social and economic change. In 1856, the Franciscan Convento was closed, along with many other religious facilities around the country. Naturally enough, when local people observed the departure of the Franciscans, they moved right in and created their own neighborhood on the property. Gradually walls and roofs were removed to sell the materials, and the property fell more and more into ruin.

A "flying buttress" supports a wall in an inner courtyard. The arched support above is an architectural innovation of the Middle Ages. Medieval architects realized that they couldn't construct the graceful walls of their churches above a limited height without making the walls so thick that the structure would become impractical. The solution was the flying buttress, which allowed huge stained-glass windows and soaring walls. The walls could remain relatively thin, giving the structure an open, airy feel. When the Ex-Convento was constructed, Spain had only recently emerged from the Middle Ages, and the old architectural styles were imported to Nueva Espana.

The Ex-Convento deteriorated for almost a century. In 1953, an effort began to restore the old structure before it completely fell apart. However, it wasn't until the 1980s that reconstruction began in earnest. As a great admirer of ruins, I was glad the restorationists chose to maintain the "ruined" aspect of much of the structures, even as they built their museum. The Ex-Convento is a quiet, dreamy place, worth an afternoon's ramble even without visiting its spectacular museum. I could almost hear the haunting footsteps of colonial friars as they rushed about preparing for another risky mission among the savage tribes of the North.

A great collapse. While the area of the Convento was abandoned, the Templo continued in use until a few years after the Revolution. In 1924, the vault of the main nave of the church (see above) collapsed. It took another three decades before the architectural value of the property was fully recognized and restoration finally began in 1987. One of Zacatecas' famous artists, Rafael Coronel, offered his collection of masks and other objects which became the major focus of the museum.

Empty passageways, ruined walls, with the sky as the only roof. This whole site is very evocative, and I lost track of Carole and our European friends as I wandered from room to passage to courtyard, the walls all overflowing with flowering vines. I lost myself in the feel of the place and the joy of photographing it. Finally, I broke away from my haunted old convent, and decided to venture into the scary precincts of its Museo de Mascaras.

The Rafael Coronel Museum contains a vast mask collection. In my research for this post, I found various estimates of the number of masks in the collection. The highest was 10,000. One article stated that, whatever the number, those on display were only 30% of the total, the remainder being kept in storage. The skull masks above were probably meant for a Dia del Muerto fiesta.

Some masks reflect the wild animals found in the indigenous makers' environment. Above you can see representations of various members of the cat family, including jaguars. In some indigenous communities, the animals were considered protectors. When the masks were worn during ceremonies, the wearer would dance in imitation of the movements of the animal represented.

Close view of cat mask reveals a successful hunt. The jaguar shown above appears to have caught a snake, which writhes in its mouth. The mast is carved from wood, with actual fur attached as cat whiskers. The earliest mask found in Mexico may have been made between 12,000 and 10,000 BCE, and represents the head of a coyote.

Hungry caiman appears ready to leap on its prey. Crocodiles, alligators, and caiman are found in the swamps and lagoons along Mexico's coastal areas. The mask above is worn on the shoulders with the person's head through the hole in the middle. About 1200 BC, masks in clay and stone began to appear. Later, the Mayas built the Palace of Masks about 10 AD, in Uxmal, a major site near Merida in Yucatan. The rain god Chac appears in hundreds of masks at the site.

Not one you'd want to meet in a dark alley. The mask museum was eery. It wasn't just the masks, but the dim lighting of the seemingly endless series of rooms, empty of people but full of masks. Intent on photographing a mask, I would feel the hairs on my neck rise up. Turning quickly, I would find something like this staring me in the face.

Some of the masks reflected the native view of the arriving Spanish. This creation was more than a mask. The wearer also donned a set of armor, based upon the costume of the ruthless and grim-faced Spanish conquistadors. Many of the other masks representing Spanish figures were big-nosed and pink-skinned. Appropriately, ghostly images are reflected in the glass of the case containing this armored figure.

Domesticated animals introduced by the Spanish also began to appear in masks. One of the aspects I found fascinating was the depiction of more than one animal in a mask. In this case, a lizard climbs down the snout of a rather startled-looking cow.

Another cow, this time with a toothy grin. Indigenous masks are a way of integrating the secular and the religious. Aztec priests wore masks at human sacrifices, but so did their sacrificial victims. Warriors in the indigenous military orders wore masks representing animals, such as jaguars, that were the symbol of their order.

A mask to make Mick Jagger proud. This one reminded me of the famous Rolling Stones poster with the meaty lips and protruding tongue. Jagger, who wrote a song about the Devil, would probably identify with this mask. Often, masks like these would be worn in conjunction with masks representing Catholic saints in dramas where they would vanquish the Devil figures.

And speaking of devils... The mask maker pulled out all the stops on this one. Three sets of horns, a nose like a coiled snake, and a tiny mask on the end of the tongue are only a few of the details the maker included. Guaranteed to scare!

A magnificent set of mountain sheep horns adorns this mask. Once again, the maker has included real features of the actual animal depicted, but added his own touches including squinting eyes and a rather creepy smile.

Warthog peers out from dark, hooded eyes. Another critter obviously up to no good, and one that gave me a start in a shadowy room.

A wooden mask with actual teeth. Although more primitive than some, and unpainted, I found this mask particularly striking because of the teeth, which may or may not be human. There was no sign to explain. Unlike the conception of self in European societies, the indigenous people believed that the person was not separate from his environment, with distinct boundaries. Instead, they believed there was a direct relationship, almost a continuum, between the person and the natural life around him or her. Often they believed that each person had an animal counterpart with supernatural powers which could be called upon through rituals including masks.

Boo! Happy Halloween and Feliz Dia del Muertos! Hasta luego. Jim

Zacatecas Part 3: The Eden Mine and Baroque Art of Guadalupe

El Eden Mine is entered by train. For me, one of the most interesting sites we visited during our sojourn in Zacatecas was El Eden Mine, which extends 3,000 meters under Cerro La Bufa hill. The silver output from El Eden helped Zacatecas produce 20% of the worlds supply at one point. Silver and other minerals formed the basis of Zacatecas' wealth for centuries. They also motivated centuries of conflict in the area, right up to the Mexican Revolution when Pancho Villa seized the city in a bloody battle aimed at controlling the silver output. The mine's ore production ceased in the 1960s after continuously operating for almost 400 years, starting in 1588. After it closed, the mine became a tourist attraction and facilities were built to safely transport sightseers deep into the heart of La Bufa on the train you see above. One of the world's most unusual nightclubs is located deep in the mine. The train has only a single track, so it goes one way into the mine and then reverses direction to come out. The mine is open daily from 10:00 AM - 6:00 PM and the fee is $25 pesos ($1.94 USD).

El Eden was carved out by hand. Our guide assured us that El Eden is safe for tourism because no explosives were ever used during mining. I found this extraordinary given the size of the mine. The tunnel we traversed extended more than a mile into the heart of La Bufa, and is the only one of four levels open to tourists. The lowest level is completely inundated by water. Over the centuries, all these tunnels were laboriously carved by hand from solid rock. Since there were no explosions to crack the rock, there is little danger of cave-ins. The floor shown above was obviously smoothed with concrete so gawkers like me wouldn't break our necks tripping over the rough stone which once sounded with the shuffling steps of Indians carrying their backbreaking loads.

Silver was not the only source of El Eden's riches. Other minerals mined included gold, lead, zinc, and copper, although in much smaller quantities than the silver. Miners followed a vein where ever it took them, which resulted in some winding tunnels. Above, various minerals can be seen in the rock. Silver and gold are both often found associated with quartz, the white mineral running in bands across the photo.

The technology of mining at El Eden didn't change much until the 20th Century. Above, two mannequins display the technique for moving miners from one level to another. Heaven help a miner if the rope broke. The miners were largely Indian, with some mestizos (those of mixed Indian and Spanish blood). Few of the Indians from the local Chichimeca tribes worked the mines in the early centuries because they were too busy fighting to expel the Spanish intruders from their territory. Most of the early miners came from the Aztec and Tlaxcalan areas to the south.

The Chichimecas' name has a variety of translations, including "blood-suckers" and "born of a line of dogs." The Aztecs gave them these names because they considered Chichimecas to be blood-thirsty barbarians. Since the Aztecs practiced wholesale human sacrifice, a custom unknown among the various tribes branded as Chichimeca, the name seems pretty hypocritical. It was true that the local tribes were ferocious warriors and expert at the unrelenting guerilla warfare they waged first against Aztec invaders and then for 50 years against the Spanish mining communities of Zacatecas. The conflict ended only when a more enlightened Spanish administration arrived and successfully purchased peace with tools, goods, food, and an end to the practice of enslaving the local indigenous population.

Dropping into the dark bowels of the earth. At the other end of the winch cable, a small cage carries a miner down into what must have seemed like hell. The average lifespan of an Indian miner was 36 years. During his working years, from the day he entered the mine until he died, he never saw daylight. The work day began well before dawn, and ended long after sunset. Accidents and mine-related illnesses were so common as to be beneath notice by the Spanish (and later Mexican) authorities. After the Mexican Revolution, when miners won the right to form unions and could demand better conditions, the lot of the miners improved.

Moving the ore was as laborious as carving it out. Above, a pair of mannequin miners push a heavily loaded mining cart along a narrow track. These old carts can be seen on the streets of Zacatecas and other old mining cities, often used now as planters. In earlier times, the ore was carried in wicker baskets on the backs of the Indians. The load could exceed 80-100 lbs. Often the Indian would have to climb from one level of the mine to another using rickety ladders or even ropes while burdened with these heavy loads.

Shrine created by miners helped them cope with the awful conditions. We found this little altar at the end of one tunnel.

Water sculpture adorns another tunnel niche. Someone created this lovely little sculpture out of materials and minerals from the mine. The water runs down the slot running the length of the sculpture and then pours into a pool at the bottom.

Visitors treat the pool below the water sculpture as a wishing well. We found the bottom of the pool covered with coins left by wishful tourists. Many of the coins found their way into this shallow clay pot.

Yet another kind of treasure. We found the odd looking sculpture above in the gift shop of El Eden Mine. The sculptor partially carved out ancient fossils from a sheet of rock. The fossils show that eons ago the tunnel deep in the mine where this rock originated was once the bed of a shallow sea.

The Baroque art of the Museum of Guadalupe

Cornstalk Christ. Some of the fabulous wealth carved with such effort from the Eden Mine was spent richly decorating religious buildings throughout Mexico. The figure above was sculpted in the 16th Century with an ancient technique using cornstalks as the frame and paper as a covering. We saw a similar crucifix figure on the wall of a church in San Miguel Allende. Because of the materials used, the figures are very fragile and great care must be used to maintain them.

We found this remarkable religious sculpture in the Museum of Guadalupe, formerly a convent called the College for the Propagation of the Faith of Our Lady of Guadalupe of Zacatecas, operated by the Franciscan Order of the Catholic Church. The convent was shut down as a result of the Reform Laws of the 1850s, which aimed to curb the power of the church. The monks did what they could to maintain the old structure, but it passed through a variety of uses including soldiers' barracks and barn. In the 20th Century, it was finally recognized as an architectural treasure and restored. Part of the facility still functions as a church and convent. The Museum of Guadalupe is located facing the Jardin Juarez in Guadalupe, a town on the eastern outskirts of Zacatecas. The hours are 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM daily, with a fee of $52 pesos ($4.00 USD).

A sculptor's workshop. Notice the partially formed torso held horizontally on a lathe-like device so that it could be turned. The tool on top of the form is a set of calipers for measuring the correct depth of a cut. In the 16th Century, the Spanish government created a system for organizing trades or gremios. The workshop shown above would have belonged to the gremio for sculptors. In each workshop a maestro, or master craftsman, directed the work. Long training was required to achieve this status, culminating in the creation of a "masterpiece", hence the modern term. This system also originated the Master of Arts Degree in higher education, for which one must write a master work known as a thesis. In the original gremios, the maestro oversaw the work of apprentices and ensured that required standards for that gremio were maintained. The apprentices were children or adolescents placed by their fathers under contract with the maestro. They were taught the trade and could eventually become maestros and establish their own workshops. This source of upward mobility was also available to the Indian population, which had produced fine craftsmen for centuries before the Spanish arrived and on whom the Spanish depended for much of the work on their religious and public buildings and their private mansions.

A full size Saint Francis seems eerily alive. At first glance, I almost expected Saint Francis to get up and greet me as I entered the chamber where he sat. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226) was the patron saint of animals and the environment. He founded the Order of Friars Minor, commonly known as the Franciscans, who were very active in Nueva Espana, building churches, schools, hospitals, and converting the Indians.

Santiago Matamoros. Saint James, Killer of Moors, was a somewhat less peaceable saint. Santiago was an especially important saint to the Spanish who credited him with helping them defeat the Moors in the 15th Century and drive them from Spain where they had dominated for 800 years. In the anonymous 17th Century sculpture above, an armed and armored Santiago, mounted on his military charger, tramples the bodies of slain Moors. Santiago is also credited by the Spanish conquistadors for their victory over the Indians around Queretaro. Legend has it that Santiago appeared in the sky and so overawed the Indians that they laid down their arms and surrendered.

Santa Ana, 18th Century. This figure, about 2 feet high, was carved by an anonymous artisan from wood. Saint Ana (Hannah in Hebrew) was the mother of the Virgin Mary and therefore Jesus' grandmother, according to Christian and Islamic tradition. Although there is no mention of her in either the Bible or the Koran, she has been venerated since at least the 6th Century. As an abuela, or grandmother she has special status in Mexican culture where abuelas are especially honored. Santa Ana is the patron saint of miners.

Santiago Caballero. Another figure of Santiago, again in a battle stance from an anonymous sculptor in the 18th Century. The Spanish, as conquerors, needed a religious underpinning for their Conquest. Otherwise it might simply be viewed as butchery, rape, theft, and enslavement. Similarly, the English and American conquerers liked to view themselves in biblical terms as "chosen people" with a "manifest destiny" to rule North America while committing genocide against the native people in their area.

Carved stone gargoyle. Figures like these were used to ornament water drain pipes off the roofs of religious buildings. The water would spout from the hole in the gargoyle's mouth.

La Virgen de Guadalupe. Classic painting showing the Virgin standing, hands folded, completely surrounded with a glowing halo. La Virgen de Guadalupe is the patron of Mexico, particularly of its indigenous people. La Virgen was first seen in the 16th Century, not long after the Conquest, by an Indian on a hill near a ruined temple to an indigenous goddess. The Church officials at first resisted the growing practice of worshipping La Virgen, but when it persisted they saw the wisdom of incorporating it into the Church tradition. After all, if the Church in the Dark Ages could transpose the tree-worshipping practices of the Germanic barbarians into the Christmas Tree, why not a adopt a pagan goddess and clothe her in Christian tradition? Ironically, because of La Virgen's appeal to common people, she was used as a rallying symbol by insurgents during the War of Independence against Spain.

A richly decorated stone cross. There was no sign indicating the origin of this old cross, but it probably sat on a steeple of a religious building for centuries before ending up in the Guadalupe Museum.

A bleeding Christ lies in the arms of an unidentified figure. I am always astounded, as a non-religious person but one raised in the Protestant tradition, at the graphic realism of Catholic religious art. The Christ figures are emaciated, and covered over with bleeding wounds, and the martyrdom of saints is often depicted in the most gory detail. Instead of repelling people, it seems to attract them.

This completes Part 3 of my series on Zacatecas. Next, I will focus on the Pedro Coronel Museum, site of the most extraordinary set of indigenous masks I have ever encountered. Appropriately, you will have the opportunity to view these mind-boggling and sometimes frightening creations when I post on Halloween weekend.

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