Earth, Blood, and
Feathers:
Ancient Northern Mesoamerican Tradition in the Work of Ana Mendieta
Ancient Northern Mesoamerican Tradition in the Work of Ana Mendieta
Is it true one really lives on the earth?
Not forever on earth,
Only a little while here.
Though it be jade it falls apart,
Though it be gold it wears away,
Though it be quetzal plumage it is torn
asunder.
Not forever on earth,
Only a little while here.
-Nezahuacoyotl
(tr. Miguel Leon-Portilla)[i]
In a relatively short span of time
between 1972 and 1985, Ana Mendieta created one of the richest and most
distinct bodies of work among the early earthworks artists. Though she was of
the generation of artists like Robert Smithson and Michael Heizer, she eschewed
their geometric, formal minimalism in favor of a fully embodied, spiritually
infused earth art. Jane Blocker writes, of Mendieta’s relationship to the
earth: “To anthropomorphize the earth is to endow it with sentience, desire,
and identity: it is to think of the earth as more than merely sculptural
material.”[ii]
Breaking land art from its geometric precedents, she embraced an alternative aesthetic
heritage in the feminist earth goddess movement, and drew from religious rituals
like those of Santeria, Mesoamerican religion (such as those of the Aztec, Zapotec,
and Mayan), Taino religion, and Catholicism. In addition, her practice drew
from the tradition of the performance and body artists more than the
minimalists. Mendieta’s earth was an extensions of her body, and that body was
permeated with spiritual immanence. In this essay, I will explore Mendieta’s view
of landscape through the body, specifically the female body, and particularly
how this exploration was informed by the religious ritual and practice she was
inspired by. While the influence of Santeria and Taino religion on Mendieta’s
work has been well documented, the role of Northern Mesoamerican (Aztec,
Zapotec) though and ritual has been explored less. This essay will focus on the
role of Northern Mesoamerican art in the earth/body works of Ana Mendieta,
particularly her Siluetas and bird
series.
As a young girl, Mendieta was taken out
of Cuba and away from her family by counter-revolutionaries intent on rescuing
the young from the threat of impending Communism.[iii]
Raised by nuns in Iowa,[iv] Mendieta
felt a strong sense of exile from her homeland—a sense of being “ripped from
the womb” as she described it later. In this borderline space between nations,
not feeling at home in either territory, she felt compelled to engage with the
meaning of her own identity. As a young art student, she received an
opportunity to travel to Mexico in 1971 and work at an archeological site in
Teotihuacan, site of the ancient Aztec capitol city (the largest city in the
world, in its day). Here, surrounded by Hispanic culture and art, she began to
feel a sense of the culture from which she was exiled for the first time since
childhood. Exiled from Cuba and uncomfortable in the United States, she “saw
Mexico as a surrogate motherland.”[v] As she said
at the time, “Plugging into Mexico was like going back to the source, being
able to get some magic just by being there.”[vi]
In Mexico, her exposure was not only to living Mexican culture and contemporary
life, but also to the ancient inhabitants of Mesoamerica—specifically the Aztec
and Zapotec, with whom she was already familiar through study but was now able
to experience more directly. Thus, her reacquaintance with her roots was
filtered through her exposure to ancient Northern Mesoamerican archeology and
mythology. On returning back to Iowa, her painting shifted to include themes
and motifs from Aztec culture.[vii]
She was able to return to Mexico on
several occasions, and created some of her earliest characteristic work while
in Oaxaca at the Yagul archeological site, including the beginning of her long Silueta series. Thus, Northern
Mesoamerican art and mythology as experiences at the Yagul site in Oaxaca
became the impetus for Mendieta’s most distinctive body of work.
One of the first pieces created on her
Mexican sojourn was Image from Yagul, the
work that Mendieta considered to mark the beginning of her Silueta series. Created in 1973, the photographic documentation of
the performance depicts Mendieta lying nude in an ancient tomb, her body mostly
covered by layers of white flowers, which almost appear to be growing from her
supine form. It is an iconic image, and one of Mendieta’s most recognizable. Flowers
played an important role in the symbology of the Northern Mesoamerican
imagination. Flowers were mythologically conceived to have been created from a
bit of flesh torn from the genitals of Xochiquetzal, the goddess of love, thus
giving them a highly sexually charged significance.[viii]
Flowers also played a hugely important role in Aztec life through the Flower
Wars—ritual mock wars fought with flowers instead of weapons in which enemies
were captured rather than killed (though many of these captives were simply
saved for later ritual execution).[ix] Thus flowers played a powerful role in
Aztec thought, their hidden corollas functioning as a portal between the
intertwined realms of life and death. In Image
from Yagul, Mendieta references this significance. Although her prostrate
body is laid in a tomb and appears lifeless and dead, it also brings forth
flowers and new life. Mendieta was fascinated by this theme of death and
renewal, the endless cycle of nature, and would return to it again and again
throughout her Silueta series and
further career, creating works made from melting snow, spreading grass, and
blooming flowers. This crucial aspect of Mendieta’s work appears to have direct
roots in ancient Northern Mesoamerican thought.
Another piece, created in 1974 while
Mendieta was in Oaxaca at the Yagul site, is Untitled, pictured above (Mendieta didn’t expend much energy on
titles). This piece, a continuation of her Silueta
series, uses the “Labyrinth” site at Yagul as it’s setting, and features a body
imprint Mendieta created by pouring animal blood on her body and lying on the
earth. This performance was then documented in a photograph. The effect is
haunting, and becomes a record of Mendieta’s absence as much as her bodily
impression. The ancient sacrificial site only reinforces the sense of mortality
and evanescence which this piece evokes. In Aztec practice, as Mendieta was
aware, blood contained a vital, life-giving energy. In one creation myth, the
feathered serpent-god Quetzalcoatl bestowed life to humanity by offering them
his own blood, and there are other examples of Aztec gods offering their blood
to mankind as a form of divine aid.[x] In return,
man’s blood was required to keep the universe in a kind of cosmic balance.
Thus, at Aztec temple sites like that in Teotihuacan, human sacrifice was
practiced routinely to replenish the life-force of the earth. This ritual
fascinated Mendieta, and informed Untitled,
which functions almost as a memoriam to the slain victims of the Aztec priests.
The record of violence remains, the body’s blood forever connected to the
earth, but the body itself has long since vanished. But the work is not purely
negative—again the life-force of blood plays a role, and the piece can be read
as a recognition of the continuation of life in nature. Again, life and death
are presented not as opposites, but as complements—differing points on a vast
and endless cycle. The presentation of this piece and it’s specific location
reveal a clear Northern Mesoamerican, and specifically Aztec, connection.
Mendieta also worked extensively with
feathers, connecting the human body to the earth and also the avian kingdom.
Feathers have an important role in ancient Northern Mesoamerican art. Aztec
artists created elaborate headdresses and masks with feathers from the sacred
quetzal bird, and also wove feathers together into tapestries. One of the most
important gods of the Aztec pantheon was Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent—as
a mixed creation, he was able to traverse the worlds of both earth and sky,
making him a boundary-crosser, a transgressor. Like flowers, the feather became
a symbol of traveling between states, of moving between one state and
another—for example, navigating between the states of life and death.
Mendieta’s 1977 Silueta piece, Untitled, annexes this meaning to create
a profound experience of both connectedness and loss. In this piece, Mendieta
has again created a silhouette of her body in the earth. This time, her shape has
been dug into the ground and filled with large white feathers. This feathered
shape has then been surrounded by newly growing grass—another allusion to the
cycles of death and rebirth which Mendieta returned to again and again. Here
she has used the Aztec theme of feathers to represent the liminal state between
life and death, creating another portal between worlds. This becomes a
transgressive boundary-crossing, a view which becomes even more apparent when
looking at another, slightly earlier work, Bird
Transformation.
In this piece, conceived soon after
Mendieta’s return from her first trip to Mexico, she has adhered bird feathers
to the body of another woman. In doing so, she creates a boundary-crossing
transgression between human and animal, as she has elsewhere between earth and
body. Like the god Quetzalcoatl, the woman in this piece begins to mysteriously
take on the elements of both worlds. The feathered face recalls feathered masks
created by Aztec artists. Mendieta has left the genitals of her female form
unfeathered and intact, allowing the creative sexuality of the creature to
continue to play a role. For Mendieta, sexuality cannot be separated from
nature. And in her eyes, this refiguring of the human body is a source of
transcendence. In a review of her work, Donald Kuspitt remarks: “Mendieta wants to reconsecrate the body, that is, restore the sense of
it as a miracle, and with that, restore the value lost by its reduction to a
kind of machine—its modernization, as it were. The body becomes increasingly
differentiated—grandly simplified and emblematic—in her art, and finally
becomes a vital aura, a ghostly abstraction of organic life. Mendieta’s
mystical body stands in opposition to the body as conceived by science. Hers is the body as it is experienced
from the inside, rather than the body as it is understood from the outside. Her
art is an attempt to demonstrate that woman’s body is holy, not profane, as
science and man have conceived it to be.”[xi] Mendieta’s religiously inspired art aims
at a celebration of the body as sacred and sublime. In her bird series as well
as her Siluetas, the source of that
divinity is nature, and specifically life on earth itself, rather than an
abstract, otherworldly deity.
Mendieta continued the bird series with Ocean Bird Washup, created in 1974. In
this piece, as in her earlier Blood
Feathers, she covers her nude body in animal blood and then adheres white
bird feathers to herself. In Ocean Bird
Washup, she then floats out at sea and allows the feathers to slowly, over
time, dissolve away from her until she returns to fully human form. This
process was filmed on a short, four-minute reel. The theme of temporality and passing away, central to Aztec
poets like Nezahuacoyotl (as in the poem quoted at the opening of this essay),
is poignantly expressed in this image. The body has become a sacred space, and
a divine metamorphosis has occurred, if only for a brief amount of time. Before
long, the feathers drift away and the image, as is so often the case in
Mendieta’s work, becomes one of a pulsating absence. Jane Blocker describes
this as Mendieta’s “performative practice of marking through disappearance…a
redundant absence, an amplified sense of death” also apparent in her Siluetas. Mendieta chose to disappear
into the elements rather than dictate to them, just as the Aztec poets
described. As Nezahuacoyotl sang, “Not forever on earth / Only a little while
here.”[xii]
Ana Mendieta’s art is unquestionably
informed by religious ritual. As Donald Kuspitt asserts, “Mendieta’s art… is profoundly
religious—eschatological…She experiences the body as a sacred space: a kind of
cathedral in which consciousness can soar.”[xiii]
The roots of much of this religious impulse lie in the ancient Northern
Mesoamerican artists and thinkers. In the Aztec art of ancient Mexico, Mendieta
found her inspiration and muse, and this experience ignited her imagination to
produce some of the most incredible land art of her time. Her religious study
and experience were enriched by Santeria, Taino religion, Catholicism, and
other sources, but her deep passion and recognition of Aztec art remained
central to her work and provided her with a rich tradition from which to draw
inspiration. Mendieta’s use of Aztec ideas and mythology was not only exhilarating
and innovative, but also relevant to her time—and, through her universal themes
of body and earth, just as relevant to our time as ever.
[i] Miguel Leon-Portilla, Fifteen
Poets of the Aztec World, (London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992), 80.
[ii] Jane
Blocker, Where Is Ana
Mendieta?, (Durham: Duke University Press, 1999),
18.
[iii] Olga
M. Viso, "The Memory of History," Ana Mendieta: Earth Body, Sculpture and
Performance 1972-1985, ed. Olga
M. Viso (Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2004), 38.
[iv] Mary Jane Jacob, "Ashe in the Art of Ana Mendieta," Santeria Aesthetics in Contemporary Latin American Art, ed. Arturo Lindsay (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996), 191.
[v] Olga
M. Viso, "The Memory of History," Ana Mendieta: Earth Body, Sculpture and
Performance 1972-1985, ed. Olga
M. Viso (Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2004), 143.
[vi] Petra Barrerras del Rio, “Ana Mendieta:
A Historical Overview,” in Ana Mendieta:
A Retrospective (New York: The New Museum of Contemporary Art, 1987), 31
[vii] Olga
M. Viso, "The Memory of History," Ana Mendieta: Earth Body, Sculpture and
Performance 1972-1985, ed. Olga
M. Viso (Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2004), 143.
[viii] John Bierhorst, The Mythology
of Mexico and Central America, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002),
147.
[ix] Miguel
Leon-Portilla, Native Mesoamerican
Spirituality, (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1980), 6.
[x] John
Bierhorst, The Mythology of Mexico
and Central America, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 84.
[xi] Donald
Kuspitt, "Ana Mendieta, Autonomous Body,"Ana Mendieta, ed. Gloria Moure (Barcelona: Ediciones Poligrafa,
1996), 39.
[xii] Miguel
Leon-Portilla, Fifteen Poets of the
Aztec World, (London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992), 80.
[xiii] Donald
Kuspitt, "Ana Mendieta, Autonomous Body,"Ana Mendieta, ed. Gloria Moure (Barcelona: Ediciones Poligrafa,
1996), 39.
Thanks for introducing me to this artist. I really enjoyed learning about her.
ReplyDeleteYour essay was informative and thought-provoking. I loved the poem at the beginning and the way you tied it into the essay, discussing Aztec culture and how it influenced her work. I can really feel the theme of renewal and rebirth, the cycles of life, coming out in her work, especially in Image from Yagul from the Silueta series, which I loved. The idea of the earth and body being connected, representing nature, this is all beautiful and seems very spiritual. Her use of feathers, flowers (I also loved the description of the ritual “Flower Wars”), and blood is effective and moving. I agree that Untitled, which uses the “Labyrinth” site, is extremely haunting, especially when thinking of this author’s untimely death (which I researched after reading the piece, out of curiosity — such a tragedy).
Again, thanks for sharing.
-Allison Wright
Thank you for such a wonderful scholarly post. I am familiar with Mendieta’s body art but I did not know she also fell into the category of earthworks. I knew she used the outdoors, but I was under the impression that earthwork artist’s had to physically alter the earth. Though after thinking about it, I realized I can argue that just by placing one’s self within the space, the person’s presence is what alters the experience. Therefore I now understand why she is considered an earthwork’s artist as well. By including herself in the work, she is adding a strong personal dimension to the pieces and that is what really captured my eye.
ReplyDeleteI also found It interesting that we both chose artists that deal with identity. Mendieta is discovering her identity through her art process. She uses art as a catalyst to mend her childhood trauma. This is very similar to the artist I chose, Kusama. Both have troubled backgrounds and both use their art as a kind of therapy but yet, there work is so different and that is exciting.
she does manipulate the earth though, in her later works she stops using her body and does outlines of it. She also ends up doing a sort of sculpture pieces like the land artists from Europe, where they bring earth materials into museums.
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