PRE-COLUMBIAN TEXTILES

The Cult of the Sea VANESSA DRAKE MORAGA

In this abridged extract from her recent bookAnimal Myth and Magic: Images from Pre-Columbian Textiles, the author examines the reverence for the Pacific Ocean and its rich marine life evident in ancient textile art from the coastal traditions of Peru.

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Sea birds, crabs, fish, marine life of all kinds, framed by undulating and cresting waves, surge across the sculpted facades and polychrome murals of temples and palaces in cities such as Pachacamac and Chan Chan. Like the towering mountains they emulated, these pyramids gained prestige and power for overlooking the vast expanse of the Pacific – the edge of the known world. 1

People in the Sierra shared this esteem for the sea. At Cuzco, the Incas filled their ceremonial plaza with white sand brought from beaches hundreds of miles away. Exotic seashells were among the first sacred symbols in Andean art: the thorny oyster, Spondylus, whose vivid reds and purples are the hue of blood; and the trumpet-like conch, Strombus, which channels the voice of the oracle. They signified regeneration and death, like the ocean itself. Myth, ritual and art expressed reverence for and reliance upon the ocean’s bounty. In Andeancosmology, the sea was Mamacocha, primordial mother of all lakes, rivers and springs that sustained crops, animals, humankind: the very origin of life. Cosmic divinities and cultural heroes all made their final journey back to her, re-enacting the daily passage of the sun and moon. In Andean beliefs, the ocean is also an underworld, a dangerous place harbouring fearsome supernatural beings as well the staggering quantity of fish that have fed the region’s inhabitants from the beginning of time. Artistic representations convey this duality. Ceremonial vessels and textiles offer naturalistic depictions

of the many varieties of fish supported by the deep, cold, rich waters of the Humboldt Current. Other iconography celebrates an allegorical or mythical dimension. Knife-wielding monsters rise from the deep in pursuit of human trophies. Battles are orchestrated between Moche deities and marine demons. Chimu lords are transported on the backs of massive fish as if they were boats or rafts. Fish were symbolically incorporated into ritual. Libations were poured from fish-shaped vessels of gold, silver and clay. Paracas shamans bedecked themselves in fishy headdresses and trains, impersonating the Master or Mistress of Fish during cult masquerades and dances. Nasca people trod the outlines of a giant shark rendered on the scorched earth of the pampa, twenty-five miles inland from the sea. The marine cults, sacrifices, and offerings to aquatic deities acquired particular urgency during periods when the cyclical El Niño phenomenon wracked the coast, threatening the existence of farmers and fishermen. The torrential rains, flooding, and drought that often follow are held responsible for the ultimate collapse of several early Andean maritime civilisations, including the Moche state. 2 Not only did these natural disasters batter settlements and essential irrigation works, they devastated fishing and food supplies. A rise in ocean temperature kills the rich layer of plankton that nourishes the food chain in the Pacific, from the vast shoals of anchovies and sardines that feed on it, to larger predators such as bonito, shark, sea lions and seabirds. A severe El Niño season can result in enormous numbers of dead fish, birds and marine mammals. The warm current also introduces foreign species into the stream – and into the nets of local fishermen. Such unnatural-seeming events could only have magnified the unpredictable powers of the ocean in the pre-Columbian mind, and intensified the urgent need for cosmic intervention. Nothing embodies the paradox of the sea better than the ‘monstrous fish’ patrolling the coastal waters off South America. One, the rare and mysterious whale shark is, in fact, the largest fish in the world. Enormity does not signal ferocity in this instance; the solitary, languid creature is essentially harmless. An image from the Paracas Necropolis (3) catches the swooping motion of this majestic, voracious fish and the sense of awe such ocean-dwellers provoke. 3 It borrows the whale shark’s exquisite patterning (a luminous starscape of white circles and streaks strewn across the dark, ridged skin