Bringing the Inert to Life: The Activation of Animate Beings

Abstract

Animist cultures around the world are based on interactions among humans and other-than-human beings. Humans are active agents in this process and often establish alliances with other-than-human beings to accomplish a variety of goals. The means of establishing these alliances is an emerging area of interest in studies of animist ontologies. We demonstrate here that these allies are often object-persons specifically made or modified by humans to have desired spiritual and physical properties. Examples of common object-persons range from domestic residences to shamanic drums to sacred bundles used for ritual activities. We further establish that object-persons go through a life cycle typically starting with a process that activates and modifies latent agency. We demonstrate this process using case studies from the North American Southwest, especially during the Medio period (AD 1200 to 1450) occupation of the Casas Grandes region of northwestern Mexico and the southwestern United States. Our primary examples are the creation of three Mesoamerican-style ballcourts and a water reservoir at Paquimé, which is the ceremonial and political center of the Medio period world. These examples reflect the underlying animistic ontology of this culture and provide a case study of the relationship between material religion and ritual practice that frames animistic religious practices.

1. Introduction

Archaeological and ethnographic evidence indicates that many traditional societies across North America and indeed around the world (and even Western societies in some contexts) hold to an animistic ontology, in which ancestor spirits, features of the landscape such as caves, various plants and animals, natural phenomena such as lightning, and even human-made objects have spiritual essences (Bird-David 1999; Bonvillain 2001; Evans 2004, pp. 51–52; Qu 2021; Magliocco 2018; VanPool and VanPool 2022; Woodfill 2021). The spiritual nature of objects, plants and animals, and weather phenomena give them an agency that can influence other aspects of the world, including humans. Lightning as a sentient being can punish the wicked or unwise. Bear (a powerful spirit being among many New World Native Americans) can cause or cure illness. Peyote and other entheogens can provide visions and guide the initiated through the spirit world. These and other other-than-human persons are spiritually (and hence physically) potent in animistic ontologies. Hallowell (1960) coined the term other-than-human persons in his discussion of their influence on the daily practices of the Ojibwa, but interactions with other-than-human persons often structure daily life in cultures from around the world, and are the focus of ritual, religious, and economic activities (Qu 2021; Woodfill 2021). Human-made other-than-human persons (which we call object-persons here) are often especially important in people’s daily lives, in that humans tend to make such objects to achieve goals of singular importance (e.g., sand paintings created as part of healing ceremonies) or to serve specific purposes (e.g., houses used for shelter, security, and social integration). In such cases, the object’s spiritual component must be manufactured/assembled in a manner analogous to the object’s physical form. Even in the case of previously animated non-manufactured objects or phenomena, the inherent spiritual potency may be strengthened or modified through human and spirit actions (e.g., Kendall 2021). Here, we use a cognitive archaeological theoretical approach to explore the process of activating the inherent agency within physical objects that is central to many animistic traditions. We draw heavily on ethnographic examples from the North American Southwest, but we also include examples from around the world. We then apply this ontological approach to further our understanding of the Medio Period (AD 1200–1450) Casas Grandes culture of northern Chihuahua, Mexico and southern New Mexico and Arizona, United States.

2. Background

2.1. The Birth of Made Beings

Fogelin and Schiffer (2015) discuss the ritual structure of the life history of human-made objects (defined broadly to include architecture and other features). They observe that objects often undergo shifts in their life histories that can be associated with ritual activities and transformations. Rituals are especially common at the start of an object’s manufacture, during the actual manufacture of an object, while an object is being used, when repairing the object for continued or new uses, and at the end of an object’s use-life. For example, the construction of a new Catholic church might be accompanied by the dedication/consecration of the building location before construction, the blessing of the newly constructed church, continued ritual activity and purification during the structure’s use, and the eventual deconsecration when the building will no longer be used as a church (Simons 1998). Likewise, secular buildings often have groundbreaking and ribbon cutting ceremonies as part of their use-lives (Zive 1981), and ships undergo christening and decommissioning ceremonies (Reilly 2021). Such transformative activities generally take on added significance within animistic frameworks, in that these rituals can create, modify/transform, and potentially even end/kill/release an object’s animating spirit. Humans are not just symbolically interacting with inert matter within these frameworks. They are instead interacting with living, animated, and potentially spiritually and physically powerful other-than-human beings that have their own spiritual lives that parallel those of humans, often complete with their own kinship structures and social relationships (Hallowell 1960; Qu 2021; VanPool and Newsome 2012; Viveiros de Castro 1998).

Here, we build on VanPool and VanPool (2016, 2021) and VanPool and Newsome (2012) to focus specifically on the process of manufacturing objects as other-than-human beings. Following Zedeño (2008, 2009), we refer to these manufactured beings as object-persons, which are defined as other-than-human beings that are the direct result of human action (i.e., they are made and/or meaningfully influenced by humans) and are tied to specific human-made or human-influenced objects. Although all aspects of the manufacturing process are likely to be important in some way, the construction of object-persons often includes rituals specifically focused on activating the spiritual potential that was previously inert or even completely absent within the object. Zedeño (2008, p. 367) notes that, “Humans engage the cosmos through visions and dreams in order to tap into the power inherent to object-persons and acquire vital knowledge that will open up the possibility of a higher plane of existence.” Her statement rests on the realization that even within an animistic framework like that of most Native American nations, not every rock or plant has a strong spiritual essence. Sometimes a rock is just a rock. Even then, though, humans are often able to activate the inherent potential contained in otherwise inanimate objects using culturally specific methods. Among the Plains groups that Zedeño (2008, 2009) discusses, for example, red paint “is considered one of the most powerful animating substances in the universe, with divine origins ranging from protective to transformative and from interactive to integrative” (Zedeño 2009, p. 412). As a result, an object brushed with red ocher paint awakens and can gain ritual/spiritual power/authority based on its context.

Activation can be completed in many ways aside from painting. Sometimes it involves spoken words (e.g., poems, prayers, songs) and specific movements (e.g., ritual postures and dance). For example, the Zuni of the American Southwest use prayer sticks made of wood, feathers, clay, paints, plant pollen, and other materials as ritual offerings. Bunzel ([1932] 1992, p. 485) observed that the creation of Zuni prayer sticks is considered a creative process in which new, spiritually potent beings are created. The specific characteristics of these object-persons is dictated by the symbolic associations of the materials used to decorate the stick. Once assembled, these newly formed beings are dedicated by Zuni artists using the following prayer:

• We made our plume wands into living beings.
• With the flesh of our mother,
• Clay Woman,
• Four times clothing our plume wands with flesh,
• We made them into living beings.
• Holding them fast,
• We made them our representatives in prayer.

The creation process thus transforms objects of limited animacy (sticks, feathers, mineral and organic pigments, raw clay) into a new, spiritually potent being. This transformation is completed through a ritual process that includes specific actions that activate the object’s inherent spiritual potential in collaboration with Clay Woman (Mother Earth), a tremendously powerful other-than-human being that is the giver of life.

Likewise, the Diné (Navajo) of the American Southwest use a portion of their Blessing Way ceremonial complex to activate their hogans (the Diné traditional one-room structures that are used for domestic, ceremonial, and community activities based on their size and context) (Frisbie 1980; Webster 2010). The Blessing Way actively facilitates the interaction among humans and various other-than-human beings including deities in addition to the hogan itself. The influence of the Blessing Way ceremony helps prevent the hogan and its inhabitants from suffering from “general misfortune, bad dreams, illness, hardship, wind and fire destruction, and visitations and harm from ghost and evil spirits” while attracting “happiness, safety, holiness…and protection from evil” (Frisbie 1980, pp. 167–68). More significantly, it is through this ceremonial process that the hogan is transformed into an important other-than-human ally of its inhabitants. As a result of the hogan’s newly formed animacy, it “will have rational faculties, will, voice, desires, and needs held in common with human persons” (Webster 2010, p. 126). If treated correctly, the animacy benefits the social and spiritual relationships among the structure’s inhabitants and their interaction with a variety of other-than-human beings. Not all Diné buildings undergo a Blessing Way ceremony, and those that do not lack the hogan’s spiritual potency (i.e., they are not object-persons) (Frisbie 1970, 1980). Frisbie (1970, pp. 114–47) further notes that similar ceremonial activities are found in house construction/dedication among other Southwestern Native Americans and even throughout Mesoamerican cultures, a point we will return to later in our discussion.

When creating object-persons, sometimes the sum is greater than the parts. This is reflected in the creation of prayer sticks cited above, but is also certainly true of sacred bundles, a collection of ritually powerful objects that takes on a new level of volition and gains even greater potency than is characteristic of the individual objects they contain. The union of the objects produces something new and more potent as the objects in the bundles worked together as a collective, with each item having its own role. For example, sacred tobacco was often used as a ritual mediator that facilitated communication between humans, object-persons, and other other-than-human spirits (Zedeño 2008, p. 372). Bundles consequently include an assemblage of objects focused on the use and spiritual potency of tobacco including stone pipes, each having its own life history and by extension its own personality and associations (Zedeño 2008, p. 372). This will in turn be clustered with other items such as quartz crystals (which have piezoelectric properties that allows stored energy to be released as visible light when the quartz is broken (Whitley 2001; see also Mökkönen et al. 2017), decorated animal hides with representations of the heavens, figurines/effigies, and even utilitarian items such as bison dewclaws (which are useful for hide-processing (Zedeño 2009, p. 414). Taken together, the bundle serves as a powerful focus of spiritual agency within Plains groups that gains a significance beyond a passive ‘toolbox’ that simply holds objects that are otherwise significant (Zedeño 2008, 2009).

Object-persons can also act as vehicles or center points for human interaction with previously existing other-than-human persons. An example of this is the use of statuary of Greek and Roman deities in the Old World. The statues had spiritual potency in-and-of-themselves but could be further animated by the spirits of the actual deities, which were independently existing other-than-human beings that transcended the statues (Chaniotis 2017). The statues could consequently serve as the focus of divine interaction between the gods and humans, and could even be used by the gods to achieve their goals. This is illustrated in a poem included in Theocritus’ idylls that recounts how the god Eros animated one of his statues to cause it to fall and crush a youth that had spurned a potential lover and thereby drove him to suicide (Chaniotis 2017, p. 100). However, Eros and the other Greek gods did not live in their statues continuously, but instead only animated them as needed to interact with humans in specific circumstances. Mortals would consequently actively seek to attract the gods’ attention through acoustic signals (e.g., ritual songs, prayers), visual signals (e.g., bright clothes, decorated altars), and olfactory signals (e.g., wine, incense) (Chaniotis 2017, pp. 100–1; see Pongratz-Leisten 2021 for an additional discussion of Mesopotamian temples as animated beings).

A somewhat similar example from the New World is the association between specific objects and the animating essences of spirit guardians during the historic period (Dye 2020). Humans actively sought to attract guardian spirits that could help enrich/extend their lives and/or provide resources such as clothes or horses. Benedict (1923, p. 11) reports that:

The animals and things which might become guardian spirits were almost limitless, including the weather, dwarfs, the nipple of a gun, horseflies, kettles, and objects referring to death. But very nearly all the natural phenomena of the world were distinctive as guardian spirits of one or other profession. Shamans, warriors, fishermen, hunters, and gamblers had each their recognizable guardians.

(Benedict 1923, p. 11)

Often spirit guardians were made material in object-persons as is the case with the Illini’s Manitou. The Illini were a confederation of 13 tribes that lived in the Mississippi River Valley in what is now Michigan, Iowa, Illinois, Missouri, and Arkansas. They created Manitou, which were active spirit protectors that were typically physically embodied in anthropomorphic statuary made of wood, stone, pottery, or other materials. In Dye’s words, the “materialized image” of the Manitou made them “incarnate; not a spiritual representation or a transcendent proxy” (Dye 2020, p. 206). The Manitou transcended the objects, but the Manitou dolls gave the guardian spirits a physical home where they could reside while engaged with humans. These objects could then be used to invoke and represent the influence of the spirit. Dye (2020) illustrates this using numerous reports of Illini shamans making the dolls dance during [Doll Dancing] ceremonies. Seeing dancing dolls probably reinforced the sentient, active nature of these entities. Manitou figurines were also used prominently by women as embodiments of female deities/guardian spirits.

In the following case study, we expand on the examples presented above by exploring several specific cases of activating object-persons reflected in the archaeological record of the Casas Grandes culture of the North American Southwest during the Medio period (AD 1200 to 1450). These examples provide a more detailed consideration of the methodological structure required to examine the process of creating and activating object-persons.

2.2. Casas Grandes Medio Period Ontology and Cosmology

The Medio period was the high point of the Casas Grandes culture of the North American Southwest in terms of political complexity and material elaboration (Di Peso et al. 1974; Phillips 1989; Pailes and Searcy 2022; Rakita 2009). The Casas Grandes culture is part of the larger Mogollon tradition of southern New Mexico and northwestern Mexico, and is focused primarily in northern Chihuahua (Figure 1). The culture reflects a mix of Mesoamerican-derived traits such as I-shaped ballcourts and locally developed traditions derived from the preceding Viejo and Mimbres traditions of southern New Mexico and northern Chihuahua (Cunningham 2017; T. L. VanPool et al. 2008; Waller 2016; Whalen and Minnis 2003). Paquimé is the largest Medio period settlement and served as an economic, political, and religious center for much of the region (Di Peso et al. 1974; Douglas and MacWilliams 2015; Rakita and Cruz 2015). Evidence indicates it was a center of specialized craft production of various goods including polychrome pottery decorated with religious themes (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 2, pp. 531–39; Topi et al. 2018; T. L. VanPool et al. 2017b; VanPool and Leonard 2002). It was also likely the focus of regional pilgrimages (Krug 2018; VanPool and VanPool 2018).

The underlying religious tradition reflected the Flower World complex found throughout Mesoamerica and the American Southwest (Hays-Gilpin and Hill 2000; Hill 1992; Mathiowetz and Turner 2021). The Flower World corresponded with the concept of the “layered universe” present in many historic Mesoamerican and Southwestern oral traditions and represented in prehistoric traditions found throughout the North American Southwest. Within this framework, humans typically emerged from a dark and watery underworld into the current world of the here-and-now. The Flower World itself was a (generally) hidden, spiritual realm. It was full of colorful flowers, birds, butterflies, and rainbows, and was where the souls of the dead lived. It was also where living beings had their spiritual dimensions (Hays-Gilpin and Hill 1999, p. 2). Flowers were structural metaphors for the soul and the heart, and in verbal art they were expressed as songs (Sekaquaptewa and Washburn 2004). While flowers were associated with female beauty, they were also used in male ritual practices (as in the kachina religion) or in warfare (Aztec warriors) (Hill 1992, p. 112; López and Vallín 2021; Washburn 2021). Entheogens were a part of the Flower World as well. For example, the carved stone statue of the Aztec deity Xochipilli, which is known as the “Prince of Flowers,” sits on a throne of flowers and entheogens such as mushroom caps and is surrounded by other flora that includes various entheogens including tendrils of morning glory (Convolvulaceae sp.), buds of shrubby yellowcrest (Heimia salicifolia), tobacco flowers (Nicotiana tabacum), snake-plant (Rivera corymbosa) flowers, and stylized caps of hallucinogenic mushrooms (Psilocybe aztecorum) (Schultes et al. 2001, p. 63).

We have suggested that a significant part of Flower World ritual practice during the Medio period (and also the preceding Mimbres tradition) was a shamanic tradition that used a kneeling ritual posture and entheogens including tobacco and datura (Huckell and VanPool 2006; VanPool and VanPool 2007; C. S. VanPool et al., in press). We based this argument on depictions of the pound sign, which was primarily found on male effigies, painted figures with headdresses, and painted anthropomorphs. The male effigies often held cylinder pipes, presumably used to smoke tobacco, and kneeling on one or both knees. The male effigies included depictions indicative of high-status clothing including sashes and distinctive ceremonial sandals (C. S. VanPool et al. 2017a). The pound sign was also depicted on painted images of males wearing horned-plumed serpent headdresses, individuals with horns growing out of their heads, and anthropomorphic individuals with macaw heads who were shown interacting with supernatural creatures, including horned-plumed serpents (Figure 2; VanPool and VanPool 2007). We proposed that these images reflect shamans starting their shamanic journey by smoking sacred (hallucinogenic) tobacco, dancing, and then becoming macaw-headed beings who flew to the spirit world to interact directly with spirits while in altered states of consciousness (VanPool and VanPool 2007). They then returned to the mundane world of the here-and-now as they regained consciousness (VanPool 2003; see also Wilbert 1987). Each stage of this transformation was reflected in imagery depicted on the Casas Grandes polychromes and was symbolically connected to the entire sequence of transformation using the pound sign (Figure 2).

The Flower World framework of the Medio Period rested on an animistic worldview in which other-than-human persons interacted with humans, and fostered/mediated their interaction with the Flower World. Like the examples of the Diné hogan and the Zuni prayersticks presented above, object-persons were commonly included in this process. These animated objects likely included ceremonial bundles and their contents, stockpiles of shell and copper, and architectural features possibly included the entire settlement of Paquimé (VanPool and VanPool 2016; Walker and McGahee 2006; Whalen 2013). Many, perhaps most of these object-persons, seem to be focused on the underworld and water ritual, especially the horned serpent, a creature (or race of creatures) associated with terrestrial water, rain, and fertility in general (VanPool and VanPool 2016).

3. Case Study: Activating Object-Persons at Paquimé

An example of the activation of water-oriented object-persons is provided by a Playas Red jar placed under Reservoir 2 at Paquimé (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, p. 836; VanPool and Newsome 2012). We suggest this jar itself was an object-person, but it also served to help activate the reservoir as an object-person. The pot was filled with shells, turquoise, and a bovine horn and was placed at the bottom and center of the larger and later of the two sequentially used water reservoirs before the reservoir was filled with water from Ojo Vareleño, a nearby warm-water spring (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, pp. 830–36). It was placed in a 30 cm diameter shaft that extended 36 cm below the reservoir’s bottom and was then covered with an 8 cm thick rock slab that sealed the entrance of the shaft (Figure 3). The pot is small compared to most Playas Red vessels from Paquimé, measuring 9.5 cm high by 10.5 cm wide and with a volume of 450 ml; the volume for typical Playas Red jars ranges from 1000 mL to as much as 30,000+ mL (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 6, pp. 154–60).

In both Mesoamerican and Southwestern cultural traditions, shell and turquoise were associated with water, making a straightforward symbolic link to the reservoir (Weigand and García de Weigand 2001; Whalen 2013, p. 634). Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 5, p. 837) suggested that the Playas Red jar was a votive offering made to help ensure the success of the reservoir. VanPool and Newsome (2012) agreed but further suggest that the jar was an active agent (an object-person). Their argument rested on several lines of reasoning. The jar wore a shell necklace around its neck indistinguishable from jewelry worn by humans (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 2, p. 347, vol. 5, p. 836). They suggested this necklace reflected an intentional metaphor with people and this pot, thereby emphasizing the pot’s agency. The shells, turquoise, and other objects contained within and on the jar demonstrated a conceptual link to water, and likely served as animated beings that attracted water to them (i.e., the shell and other offerings helped ensure water would continue to be present given their innate agency and dispositions). Further, VanPool and Newsome (2012) suggested the shaft holding the vessel acted as a sipapu (an axis mundi— a portal between the underworld and the middle world) that allowed the pot to access and influence subterranean (underworld) water and the associated spirits that controlled its flow. As such, it served as an intermediary with the watery underworld to help preserve and maintain Reservoir 2 as a water entity that was central to Paquimé (see also VanPool and VanPool 2016, pp. 323–24).

We build on VanPool and Newsome’s (2012) arguments to further suggest that the pot was an important object-person created to animate the Reservoir as another object-person. In other words, not only was the pot an animated agent, its placement at the bottom of the reservoir was designed to transform the Reservoir into an active agent was well. Employing the framework we outline above, the creation of the object-person embodied by the Playas Red jar reflects an intentional act on the part of humans as they sought to create an important ally in their efforts to ensure water for Paquimé’s inhabitants. The jar itself forms a specialized bundle similar in many respects to the sacred bundles Zedeño (2009) discusses. The association of the pot and its contents allowed the bundled artifacts to have a greater level of agency and potency than the objects themselves would have had. Put another way, clustering the objects together into a specially created jar placed in a specially prepared location central to the reservoir provided this bundled object-person with a greater importance and ability to influence water and the other-than-human beings that controlled its availability than simply scattering the same amount of shell and turquoise across the bottom of the reservoir would have. The red slip used to decorate the pot and the placement of the necklace around the pot’s neck may have further activated the vessels itself, and thereby amplified the potency of the bundle. As a sacred bundle, this pot would consequently be more than the sum of its parts—the spirit activated by the clustering of the turquoise, shell beads, the animated pot, and the bovine horn served as a focal point of interaction among the humans, the reservoir (an object-person itself) and other-than-human persons such as the horned serpent, which controlled the presence and flow of water.

In a manner analogous to Diné hogans and other aspects of the built environment in Southwestern Native American groups (as well as the ballcourts we discuss below), the placement of the pot bundle was likely accompanied by ritual dedication and activity including singing and chanting as the reservoir was animated during the construction process. The pot thus reflects multiple instances of activation occurring at various scales: it is itself an object-person created in the form of a water-focused bundle, that was then used as an anchor and ally during the creation of another object person in the form of Reservoir 2, and subsequently as a focus of interaction between humans and underworld other-than-human spirits as it served as an axis mundi linking the reservoir (and its water) with the watery underworld. While there is no evidence that humans interacted with or modified the pot bundle after it was initially placed in its shaft, the inhabitants of Paquimé did maintain the reservoir while they occupied the settlement. This process likely included the renewal and continued activation of Reservoir 2’s animating spirit. Ethnographers documented similar activity among the historic and modern Southwestern Native Americans. For example, the Hopi Water Clan placed offerings of bread, prayer feathers, and tobacco into bowls that were placed on the bottom of springs to feed and strengthen their animating spirits (Beaglehole and Beaglehole 1937, pp. 30–31; see Ford 2020 for a more general discussion of similar examples among the Tewa Pueblos of the American Southwest). The Zuni likewise held an elaborate yearly ritual to provide offerings of prayer sticks to the Zuni Salt Lake (Stevenson 1904, pp. 354–55). Similar rituals have been recorded throughout Mesoamerica (e.g., Dunning 2020; Lucero and Kinella 2015). The Medio period cosmology fits within this larger framework that considered bodies of water to be living beings that could be strengthened and influenced through human interaction. Given the importance of water in the arid Chihuahuan Desert surrounding Paquimé, Reservoir 2 was likely one of the most continually evident and central object-persons in the lives of Paquimé’s inhabitants. The preceding Reservoir 1 was likely equally important while it was in use. Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 5, p. 837) suggest that Reservoir 1 may have contained a similar offering to Reservoir 2’s pot that “may have been removed…when it was abandoned” and replaced by Reservoir 2. Although speculative, it is possible that this pot was moved between the two reservoirs during the process of ending the first reservoir and activating the second.

We suggest the Mesoamerican-inspired ballcourts were another example of activated object-persons. The Mesoamerican ballgame was played for both ceremonial purposes and the enjoyment of the players and spectators (Day 2001, p. 73; Harmon 2006; Stark and Stoner 2017). Its geographic distribution stretched from Caribbean islands such as Haiti to the North American Southwest, and it was central to the Popol Vux (the sacred text of the Maya), was referenced in the Codex Borgia and other Aztec codices, and had ceremonial and symbolic significance across Mesoamerica reflected in the archaeological and ethnographic records (Harmon 2008; Miller 2001, pp. 84–87; Taladoire 2001; Uriarte 2001). The earliest ballcourts were built as early as 3000 BP, and they became widespread across Mesoamerica by 2000 years ago (Blomster and Chávez 2020; Taladoire 2001). Virtually every major Mesoamerican city/trading center had at least one ballcourt (Taladoire 2001, pp. 109–10).

“The” Mesoamerican ballgame is a bit of a misnomer given that different versions of the ballgame were played, not all of which required formal courts (Whittington 2001, p. 18). Leyenaar (2001) documented three versions of the ballgame played in the modern Mexican state of Sinaloa alone and many more were undoubtedly played elsewhere. Still, there are many examples of extremely well-structured and formalized playing courts complete with substantial berms, end fields, and spectator areas that show some consistencies in the courts themselves, even if aspects of the game and courts varied through time and across space (Taladoire 2001). The ballgame carried social and religious significance, and the ballcourts themselves were considered animate beings within the animistic ontology underlying Mesoamerican culture. Fox (1996, pp. 484–85) describes the ritual process of animating a ballcourt in Central Mexico as described by Toribio de Benaventa Motalinía, a 16th-century Spanish chronicler. According to Motolinía, the builders built “the heart into the court with certain witcheries” that were placed in the court’s center and in the walls (Fox 1996, p. 485). Further, at the time of dedication two idols were situated facing each other across the field on the top of the walls in the field’s middle. Songs and chants were recited, and “several…priests came, black as those who come from Hell, and took the ball and threw it four times against the court” (Fox 1996, p. 485). As Fox (1996) states (and as is consistent with the hogan example presented above), this “account appears to document the ritual establishment and dedication of a ballcourt, reflecting widespread Mesoamerican beliefs that buildings, in this case ballcourts, were animate entities subject to their own rites of passage.” Further, Fox (1996) states, “These beliefs were often materialized in ritual through the interment of caches and burials in the bodies of ballcourts and other types of buildings.” In the terms we use here, ballcourts were activated through the placement of animated objects and ritual performances/ceremonies to become object-persons with special relationships with humans and other-than-human beings. This activation likely included other object-persons (the idols placed opposite each other at the court’s midfield) as well as symbolically and spiritually potent offerings including human sacrifice in many cases (Fox 1996; Harmon 2006). We suggest here that the same process is present in the Medio period region, especially at Paquimé.

Three forms of ballcourts were created during the Medio period: open courts, which were the least elaborate and most common; I-shaped ballcourts, which were less common but found throughout the region; and a single T-shaped court found at Paquimé (Harmon 2006, 2008; Figure 4). There were at least 21 courts in the region, although only a handful have been excavated (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 2, pp. 410–17; Skibo et al. 2001; see also Harmon 2005 and Whalen and Minnis 1996). Although each court may have been an animated object-person, our focus here is on the two I-shaped courts and the single T-shaped court at Paquimé, which were the largest, most elaborate courts in the region (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 2, pp. 410–17). To put this into perspective, Harmon (2008, Figure 4.16) estimates that the main I-shaped ballcourt at Paquimé likely required over 50 times the labor investment to build compared to the simple open courts most common in the surrounding settlements (see Whalen and Minnis 1996). Further, Paquimé is the only known site with more than one ballcourt, with a court directly attached to a roomblock (the T-shaped court), and with a court with burials (presumably human sacrifices) beneath the playing field (again, the T-shaped court). Following the general Mesoamerican pattern, Harmon (2005, 2006, 2008) proposes the Paquimé ballcourts are layered with symbolic and cosmological meaning. The I-shape pattern itself reflects a decapitated body with the ball reflecting the head and the court center reflecting the navel (Harmon 2006; 2008, p. 40 and the references cited therein). This imagery is reflected in the Popol Vuh (in which the ballgame is played with Hun Hunahpu’s head) and is emphasized throughout Mesoamerica through ballgame-related human sacrifice that included decapitation and the separating of limbs from the torso (Gillespie 1991; Harmon 2008, p. 41).

Of the three Paquimé courts, the T-shaped court was identified by both Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, pp. 414–17) and Harmon (2008) as the “religious” court and, perhaps, the most cosmologically significant. Unlike the two I-shaped courts, which were outside of the roomblock and were structured to allow viewing by a substantial audience, the T-shaped court was found inside of the roomblock, which limited the number of observers and restricted access to only three access points that could be easily monitored (Harmon 2008, p. 35). The court itself was T-shaped with the main north–south oriented playing field measuring 14.05 m long by 14.15 m wide. The east–west oriented end field crossed the northern edge of the playing field along its central axis and measured 14.05 m by 6.70 m wide (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, p. 619). Viewing platforms were placed on the southern and eastern edges of the main playing field (southern platform: 12.31 m east–west by 9.55 m north–south; eastern platform: 16.65 m north–south by 3.25 m east–west). A sloped ramp connected the elevated southern viewing area to the lower end field and appears to be the primary means of accessing the playing field (Figure 5; Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, pp. 619–20). The entire complex covered a total of 458 square meters.

The playing field included three subsurface burials along its center line. The central burial contained two males (Burials 1-14 and 2-14), one of which was placed sitting on the hips of his supine companion (Figure 5; Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, p. 619). A white rock covered a plastered hole angled to the head of the seated (top) individual. The southern burial contained two females, one of which was in the late stages of pregnancy as evidenced by the remains of her unborn fetus (Burial 3-14). The burials were about 3 m from the southern viewing platform and were adjacent to a posthole that likely held the southern end zone marker. The arm of one of the women (Burial 7-14) had been removed (presumably at the time of death or postmortem) and draped over her shoulders (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, p. 619). The northern burials contained the articulated burial of one individual (Burial 6-14, likely a female) and secondary burials of one female (Burial 4-14) and one male (Burial 5-14, which was represented by only a skull and a few other bones). Burial 4-14 was generally disarticulated except for her fully articulated feet, which were apparently placed in a bag next to her (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 2, pp. 414–15, vol. 8, p. 397). An additional burial of a juvenile (unknown sex) that died of an apparent broken neck was placed under the floor of the southern viewing structure at its northeastern corner (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, p. 620). Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 8, p. 397) classified all of these burials as sacrifices. Further, the “spirit hole” (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 8, p. 398) of the central burial that was covered by a readily visible white stone would have stood out against the plastered court floor, suggesting that the presence and placement of some or all of the burials was known to the players and audience during the game play.

Two postholes were also placed along the center axis of the playing field. The northern posthole was placed at the edge of the playing field where it met the end field slightly to the east of the center line (Figure 5). The aforementioned southern posthole is directly adjacent to the southern burials and placed slightly west of the center line. Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, p. 414) suggested the postholes held wooden posts marking goal areas.

Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, pp. 414–17) and Harmon (2008, pp. 40–3) both tied the presence of human sacrifices and the apparent dismemberment of these victims to the wider Mesoamerican ballgame tradition. Di Peso et al. noted that the dismemberment of the bodies (reflected by the severed arm and feet) was consistent with ballgame imagery. For example, the Popol Vuh recounted that Huh Hunahpu (the Aztec Vegetation [Maize] God) was sacrificed, dismembered, and buried beneath a ballcourt in the underworld before he was resurrected by his sons, the Hero Twins, when they defeated the gods of the underworld in a ballgame (Miller 2001, p. 85). Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, p. 417) further suggested a parallel between the female burial with the severed arm to images from the Codex Borgia that depict the god of death with a severed arm draped across its shoulders. Harmon (2008, p. 41) suggested the burial may also indirectly reference the ballcourt-related cosmology in the Hero Twin narrative of the Popol Vuh by referencing the elder twin (Hunahpu) who had his left arm torn off during their adventures. Harmon (2006, p. 202) also suggested that the pregnant female from the same burial group represented the mother of the Hero Twins, the goddess Xquic (Blood Moon). Finally, Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, p. 416) suggested that the central burial with one individual sitting on another person reflected a parallel to images from the Codex Borgia of the god of death sitting on its victims in the center of a ballcourt.

The two I-shaped ballcourts at Paquimé lacked burials under their floors but were extravagantly built. The largest and best preserved of the two ballcourts (Unit 3; Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 4, pp. 293–304) measured 88 m north–south by 40 m east–west. It consisted of the main ballcourt and adjacent viewing mounds to the south and west, and smaller viewing areas to the north and east (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 4, p. 299). An opening in the surrounding wall led into the northern endzone, and masonry staircases rose onto the southern viewing platform and onto the western viewing platform from the court’s southern endzone. A ramp also rose onto the western viewing platform from the court’s northern endzone. The playing field itself had a central playing field measuring 29 m (north–south) by 19 m (east–west), and northern and southern end zones measuring 29 m (east–west) by 10 m (north–south) (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 4, p. 297). The southern viewing mound included a lower terrace measuring 31 m (north–south) by 28 m (east–west). It was linked to the plaza outside of the ballcourt by a ramp to the east and had an additional elevated viewing area that could be accessed by staircases on the north and south sides. This upper mound measured 21 m (north–south) by 17 m (east–west) (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 4, p. 301). Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 4, p. 296, vol. 8, p. 290) recovered a stone ring similar to those used in some versions of the Mesoamerican ballgame and another was possibly recovered by another archaeologist in the early 20th century, but these rings were not installed for actual use. It is possible they were taken down when the court was no longer being used, but it is also possible that the rings were rarely or never used given that similar rings do not appear to be used at the other courts throughout the region.

The second I-shaped court was largely destroyed by an arroyo that cut through portions of Paquimé after it was abandoned (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 5, pp. 785–87). The court was apparently similar in size to the first I-shaped court, being 20 m wide (roughly the same as the first court). The northern end field (which was the only one remaining) was 32 m long (east–west) and 9 m wide (north–south), which was again comparable to the end fields for the other I-shaped court. In contrast, the remaining observation mound, a D-shaped mound to the west of the court, was less elaborate than the viewing platforms associated with the first court. The long axis of the mound faced the playing field and measured 30 m (north–south) by 28 m (east–west). The top of the mound was rounded rising to a flat platform measuring 29 m (north–south) by 12.5 m (east–west). Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 5, p. 787) noted the remnants of another viewing platform on the east side of the court, but it was almost completed destroyed by the arroyo.

Comparing the two “public” I-shaped courts and the “religious” T-shaped court provides interesting contrasts. The architectural context and features associated with the T-shaped court fit with and were, if anything, more elaborate than what Motanlinía describes for the activation of the ballcourt in central Mexico (Fox 1996, p. 485). The burials and their symbolism reflected the cosmological significance of the ballgame to the Medio period people (and more generally across Mesoamerica). According to Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, pp. 414–17) and Harmon (2008, pp. 40–43), all three of the burials reference larger, independently manifested themes: Burials 1-14/2-14 (center court) reflect the god of death sitting on its victims, Burials 3-14/7-14 (southern end of court) reflect dismemberment and perhaps the Hero Twin story including the Twins’ mother and the Elder Twin’s dismemberment, and Burials 4-14/5-15/6-14 (northern end of court) reflect dismemberment with the inclusion of severed feet and miscellaneous bones from multiple individuals. Further, the southern structure contained another apparent human sacrifice, indicating the focus of activating the court complex was not limited to the playing field (and the players who competed there). Instead, rituals focused on activating the entire complex, thereby allowing the entire unit to serve as a means of interacting with animated humans (the players and observers) and other-than-human agents. The marked and plastered hole leading under the ballcourt’s floor to the possible representation of the god of death (Burial 1-14) further emphasized the court as an active axis mundi linking the players/observers to death and the underworld (see also Harmon 2006, 2008). Unlike Reservoir 2 and the other ballcourts, the T-shaped court was hidden from view and likely would have been known only through rumor and description to most people, including those who visited Paquimé as pilgrims. As an active agent, the court would have been an object-person central to Paquimé’s elites and those they deemed worthy of viewing it. It thus further emphasized the elites’ link to Medio period cosmology and reinforced the associated ritual and political structure. The court as an object-person consequently held a unique position within the regional ballgame tradition and indeed in terms of its spiritual potency and cosmological significance was likely one of the central ceremonial stages at Paquimé.

Other possibly comparable object-persons included the Walk-in Well, a water-related feature with limited access that was associated with ritual paraphernalia (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 4, pp. 376–81; see also Walker and McGahee 2006), and the “sanctuary” in the Mound of the Offerings, which was a complex with controlled access that contained “burial vaults” (small adobe chambers) holding human remains that was part of a public mound (Di Peso et al. 1974, vol. 4, pp. 307–15; see also Rakita 2009). The similarities between the Mound of the Offerings and the T-shaped court were perhaps especially profound in that both were private areas with controlled access but were placed so it would be clear when they were in use. Although the typical person may not have been able to go into the T-shaped ballcourt or the inner sanctuary of the Mound of the Offerings they certainly would have been able to hear the play of the game on the ballcourt and see elites entering and leaving the sanctuary. As object-persons, these locations would have been generally known, but accessible to only a comparative handful of people. This in turn would have reinforced the elite status of the humans who could interact with them while also emphasizing the status of these locations as singularly important object-persons.

In contrast, the lack of burials or other offerings with either of the public ballcourts suggests the resulting object-persons were different in nature. There is no clear evidence of burials, cache/offering of shell or turquoise, or other permanent markers to serve as the court’s “heart.” Of course, the “heart” of the court could have been indicated using sand or paint on the courts’ floors. If so, it is not surprising that they are not evident in these long-abandoned courts. Likewise, Motanlinía (Fox 1996, p. 485) indicates the figurines he observed being used to activate the court were removed after their use. We suspect similar ritual was present at Paquimé, but it is archaeologically invisible. Regardless, the nature of these courts suggests they were very different object-persons when compared to the T-shaped court. Here, crowds could gather more easily and view the games played in the courts. While the symbolic association with the underworld and death may have been acknowledged, it was not emphasized or manifested to the same degree as was the case with the T-shaped court. Like other ballcourts throughout the region, these courts may have been locations were elites competed with each other (Whalen and Minnis 1996), but these competitions likely included integrative aspects that allowed competing villages/factions to join together even as they competed. In contrast, the controlled access and deep symbolism of the T-shaped court illustrates the social and religious authority of those who could access it. As object-persons, the I-shaped courts were open, integrative, and welcoming, whereas the T-shaped court was comparatively exclusionary, controlling, and divine. The I-shaped courts fostered relationships within this world, whereas the T-shaped court was focused on relationships across the cosmologically defined layered universe of the Upperworld, Middle World, and Lower World.

The differences in the nature of the object-persons embodied by the courts are reflected in many ways, including the architectural structure of the courts, their placement in the site, and their court furniture. However, it is also clear in the means by which the courts were activated—the inclusion of multiple symbolically loaded burials emphasizes the singular significance of the T-shaped court as an object-person. Highlighting these burials through the white stone marker for the center court burial and the posts adjacent to the northern and southern burial pits indicates the unique nature of this object-person was continually emphasized and reinforced as the court was used and maintained. In contrast, the activation central to bestowing agency and spiritual authority is not emphasized in the same way for the I-shaped courts. As with the Diné hogans and other architecture throughout the Southwest and Mesoamerica, ritual activities were almost certainly used to activate the courts, but these were less extreme than placing human sacrifices throughout the courts. These differences reflect differences present even in similar architectural features.

4. Discussion and Conclusions

Cultures with animistic ontologies structure the spiritual relationships among humans and other-than-human beings. In keeping with the ontological precepts of their culture, object-persons specifically created or modified by humans would have been allies in this process. Worldwide, houses are awakened to help protect their inhabitants, weapons and armor are activated to help the hunter and warrior, and animated shrines and offerings are built to ensure favorable relationships with the spirits that occupy the landscape. Here, we propose that these activities are: (1) archaeologically visible (and as a correlate must be recognized to properly understand the cognitive structure reflected in the archaeological record), and (2) likely to take specific forms of ritual activity that reflect both similarities and differences among artifacts and features. We illustrate these points using examples from Paquimé, the preeminent and largest of the Medio period Casas Grandes settlements in the North American Southwest. In our examples, aspects of the built environment were animated to serve as spaces where humans and other-than-human beings interacted. These locations thus served as object-beings that were essential to the proper functioning of Medio Period society at Paquimé. These object persons were also unique individuals, each with its own importance and distinct personality. They were tied to Medio period cosmology, such that their activation reflected the underlying cosmology in both the methods of their activation as spiritual and physical agents and in the roles they played.

In meaningful ways, the T-shaped ballcourt and the Playas Red pot in Reservoir 2 were like each other but different from the I-shaped courts. In cosmological terms, the T-shaped court and the (shaft that included the) Playas Red pot operated as axis mundi that focused on the relationship between the world of the here-and-now (and the humans that lived there) and the underworld. They were activated through the placement of dedicatory offerings that in turn were active object-persons that represent what Motalinía refers to as “witcheries” (see Fox 1996, p. 485). The Playas Red pot bundle was the heart of Reservoir 2 while the burial clusters, especially the central burial cluster that seemingly references the god of death, was the heart of the T-shaped court. These hearts were placed in pits marked by stone caps and contain bundles of objects (including sacrificed humans) that would attract and fix the spiritual potency that activated the associated structures.

In contrast, the two I-shaped courts were ornate in comparison to other ballcourts in the region, and certainly fit the requirements for monumental architecture in the context of prehistoric Southwestern cultures. Given the underlying Flower World ideology of the Medio period, especially as it is related to the Mesoamerican ballgame, they would have also been animated beings, but they lacked the bundles that were used to activate the examples presented above. Their role in daily life was different than the T-shaped court, even though they were used for similar purposes. While the ballgame was played and viewed by many people in the public I-shaped courts, the private, elite games that occurred in the T-shaped court held more cosmological significance. We thus suggest that Di Peso et al. (1974, vol. 2, pp. 410–17) and Harmon (2008) are correct in differentiating between the “ceremonial” aspect of the T-shaped court and the I-shaped courts. Ultimately then anthropological analysis will benefit from more systematic studies of object-beings and the methods used to animate them. The object-beings are often central to human life, again as reflected in our example of Reservoir 2, which was the source of water that flowed through Paquimé’s canal system. Understanding these object-beings both increases our understanding of specific aspects of human behavior and our understanding of the cosmological and ontological precepts of the past. It is thus an extremely productive approach for cognitive archaeology.