THE NORTH ACROPOLIS: Monumentality, function, and architectural development

H. Stanley Loten

PRELIMINARY DRAFT

Acknowledgments

Although this paper was not presented at the seminar, and therefore was not formally discussed, the participants encouraged me to do it. I was uncertain because the subject is so speculative and I could see no objective way to develop it. I am very grateful to my colleagues for their encouragement. The faults are entirely my own.

High pyramidal temples like Great Temple I at Tikal are the popular icons of ancient Maya civilization. Their familiarity implies that we know them very well. But the truth is quite different. They stubbornly guard their secrets. Their precise functions, the fundamental reasons why they were built, and ends they were meant to accomplish remain uncertain. Bassie-Sweet (1996: 118), for example, has suggested that temples may have been conceived as places where the gods came to receive offerings. There have been few suggestions more specific than this. We assume that elaborate rituals were staged on and around temples. We know that caches and interments were placed within their fabrics, that fires were burned on their floors, and we can imagine the clouds of incense billowing out of their doorways. But we can only speculate about the fundamental cultural pressures that produced them and required that they should be monumental in form.

This chapter presents an exploratory model based on the proposition that temples would not have been built at the scale and abundance that we find, or with such impressive monumentality, in the absence of very compelling reasons for such investment. Further, it is proposed that the fundamental motivations for temple building might have been practical in nature, rather than symbolic; a presumption based mainly on the very large number of temples built by all Mesoamerican cultures. The model develops around the assumption that temples would not have been built in the forms and numbers that we see unless some kind of readily understandable material benefit could be expected to flow from them.

If pragmatic, material considerations prompted temple building in the first place, epiphenomenal by-products such as support for rulership, social status, and elite authority may have emerged later. Temples initially may have evolved out of the settings established very early for shamanic activities. Places similar to the contemporary shrines described by Dennis Tedlock (1985) and Evon Vogt (1969), might have become more and more elaborated in various ways intended to enhance the shamanic function. Elaboration might have developed into architectural treatments intended to reinforce shamanic objectives of managing animistic or meta-natural forces for practical, material benefit. Temples might have begun in this way and later came to be employed for ideological purposes, to validate elite status and dynastic legitimacy; objectives that might have been absent or much weaker initially.

This chapter responds to the challenge of modeling how temples might have been understood initially as tools or instruments able to serve shamanism with its emphasis on practical ends and tangible material outcomes. The North Acropolis at Tikal is employed as a kind of case study for this exercise and the architectural feature emphasized is that of monumentality. If a model based on the North Acropolis can account for monumentality in terms of its practical utility, rather than as symbolism, the same argument should be applicable to some degree in Maya temple architecture generally. The attempt here is to set out a preliminary hypothesis which, if it seems worth while, could be subjected to some kind of testing on different case studies.

Tikal effectively epitomizes monumentality in Maya architecture (c.f. Webster, 1998, 14). The Great Plaza, the North Acropolis, and the Late Classic Great Temples, stand as prime examples at a level hardly surpassed by other world traditions. Tikal, therefore, is an appropriate context in which to raise the question of monumentality as it relates to cultural development. Traditionally, monumental architecture has tended to be regarded as an epi-phenomenon of political power, wealth and social status; an expression of the desire for self-aggrandizement and memorialization. This view has been most clearly articulated by Bruce Trigger (1990) but is implicit in many accounts of Maya architecture. This proposal is not intended to discredit factors such as conspicuous consumption, display, and symbolism, which undoubtedly did apply. The suggestion forwarded here is that monumental architecture might have initially emerged in response to very different concerns; pragmatic, practical matters addressed within an animistic worldview in which shamanic techniques were expected to produce material results. Such concerns may have provided the fundamental motivation for temple building even after political powers had to some extent co-opted the ritual dimension of ancient Maya civilization.

The first part of this chapter will propose a speculative model suggesting how monumentality might have contributed to a hypothetical primary function for temples. The second part reviews the architectural sequence documented for the North Acropolis at Tikal where we see a prolonged developmental experiment in monumentality that may extend from primary temple functions into a more complex secondary role associated as much with political ambition as with management of meta-natural forces.

Most studies of monumental architecture emphasize symbolism, commemoration, and reference to cosmic templates as aspects of meaning (Ashmore 1991, 1992; Dunning, 1992; Schele 1998; Schele and Mathews 1998; Webster 1998; Grove 1999, Lewis and Stout 1998; and others). Although they have greatly advanced our understanding, and their findings are not in question, these studies do not propose interpretations more fundamental than symbol and metaphor. The model advanced here assumes, rightly or wrongly, that enterprises such as centering the world, and replicating cosmic or underworld orders, though valid as interpretations, would not have been the fundamental reasons for building temples. Simpler, more directly profitable motivations seem called for in view of the magnitude of the investment that temples represent and the universality of the practice of temple building. Monumental temples were primary artifacts of Mesoamerican cultures and on this basis, we may be justified in the expectation that they were built to satisfy primary needs.

Monumentality in architecture is not merely a matter of size. Murray and Murray (1959: 216) define the term as "grand, noble, elevated in idea, simple in conception and execution, without any excess of virtuosity, and having something of the enduring, stable and timeless nature of great architecture....not a synonym for "large""(parenthesis in original). Lewis Mumford (1961:65) suggests that "what we now call "monumental architecture" (parentheses in original) is first of all the expression of power, ... the purpose (of which) ... was to produce respectful terror", a definition that seems very appropriate to the Mesoamerican context. However, there is another dimension to monumentality that may have been even more directly effective.

Monumentality expresses and seems to embody real power by projecting a kind of aura that is not at all symbolic but seems quite real and physical. A tangible sense of power is generated directly by the strength and character of architectural form. Very few visitors to the Great Plaza at Tikal fail to notice this effect. This palpable emanation is something that ancient people might have interpreted as meta-natural, animistic force. In the context of the Classic Period at sites like Tikal this immediate apprehension of power, still perceptible to-day, would have been enormously stronger when institutions operating in the monumental centers were staging their dramatic, sanguinary rituals.

The central assumption advanced here is that within the ancient Maya worldview the sensory effect of architectural power might have been understood as the action or presence of real meta-natural power, and not simply as an effect produced by the architecture, or as merely symbolic referencing. Real power would be expected to produce real, material, pragmatic results such as good crops, good health, victory

in battle, etc. Temples thought to be infused with real, meta-natural power might be expected to function as instruments facilitating management of that power for the benefit of society. How this might work is most succinctly suggested by Frankfort et. al. (1946:15) in his depiction of the Nile, which, if it does not rise, "has refused to rise" (italics in original). To remedy this, the animistic power controlling the Nile must be somehow persuaded to act more favourably. Temple architecture, and sacrificial ceremony provided the instruments needed to accomplish this kind of meta-force management.

In recent decades researchers have identified a number of Maya terms that seem to refer to basic vitalizing forces considered to animate the cosmos: terms like "ch'ul" or "K'ul" (Schele and Freidel, 1990) "ch'ulel" (Ringle, 1999), and "its" (Freidel, Schele and Parker, 1993). These refer to animistic forces of nature, elsewhere labeled as "meta-cosmological" or meta-meteorological forces" (Tate, 1999) and identified here as meta-natural forces. Marcus, Flannery and Spores (1983:37), and Marcus (1989:150-1) describe a force called "pee" for the Oaxaca region, which could "occupy animate beings as well as some inanimate objects". Townsend (1979) discusses "teotl", a similar force recognized by the Aztecs.

For simplicity, and because Diaz Del Castillo (1963) referred to temples by the term "cu", I propose to use "k'u" as an umbrella term for these forces. The word picked up by Castillo probably reflects a term employed by the Maya at the time. Whether or not it is correct to characterize the referents of "c'u" as "gods" or as more abstract forces, has been a subject of much discussion (c.f. Taube (1992,7ff), Townsend (1979), Tate (1999), and Marcus (1989). Our desire to make this kind of distinction may be a reflection of our own outlook, alien to the ancient Maya worldview in which it might have been quite possible for both concepts to be active at the same time (c.f. Gillespie and Joyce, 1998).

The term "k'u" seems to refer to forces that cause things to move, to grow, and to live, and potentially might affect any and all human affairs. K'u forces apparently were seen by the ancient Maya nearly everywhere. They were manifest in wind, lightning, rain, blood (Stuart, 1988), nectar of flowers, birth, death, breath, utterances such as song and incantation, dance, fire, smoke, reflections in mirrors, and perhaps in the fleeting glimpses of strange marine creatures dimly visible beneath surfaces of water. The ancient Maya may have understood the sensation of extreme pain as the presence of k'u (c.f. "The vision quest", Schele and Freidel, 1990).

The ancient Maya saw k'u forces in certain plants, animals, and celestial objects like the sun, moon, and planets and, perhaps, in calendric time periods. Certain places or natural landscape features may have been seen as places of k'u power. Mountains (Sugiyama, 1993), distinctive landforms (Ortiz and Rodriguez, 1999, Grove 1999), and some caves (Bassie-Sweet, 1991), may have been understood as locations where these forces were most proximally present and resided or visited. The term "witz" (David Stuart cited in Schele and Freidel 1990) refers to this aspect of temples as mountains, specifically as man-made mountains, often elaborated with witz masks.

If the ancient Maya considered that k'u forces caused or influenced both natural phenomena and human affairs, and temples were seen as places of k'u power, then the aura generated by monumentality might have been taken as real k'u power, not merely as symbolic references to power. This might have provided the basic motive both for monumentality and for scale, since size certainly amplifies the impact of monumentality.

Mountains, caves and other natural places may have provided appropriate settings for ritual because k'u forces were thought to be present in those locales. It might be that at some point the Maya realized they could build equivalent places: a discovery that would have profoundly affected their intellectual, political and social development. Man-made temples, since they are cultural artifacts, might have seemed more effective than natural places for intercession with meta-natural forces. The aura generated by monumental temples might substantiate belief in the presence of k'u forces. Man-made temples possessed by established political powers may have been able to serve a broader range of social agendas than the natural places frequented by shamans. More importantly, perhaps, temples could be tied to social groups such as dynastic lines, in ways that natural places could not.

From primordial times the ancient Maya may have understood certain natural features as places of k'u power, and believed that k'u forces not only affected natural phenomena but potentially could determine the outcome of any human enterprise or personal destiny. Natural places of ritual might have become progressively more elaborated, as can be seen in the Zinacantan shrines illustrated by Vogt (1969). Eventually the natural surface of these places might have become layered over with artifacts intended to enhance effectiveness of ritual. The possibility that places of ritual could be entirely man-made may have evolved gradually. Monumentality, then, might have developed as a way to validate temples by making the presence of k'u forces more directly obvious. The sensory affect of monumentality, its aura of power, would be the key property for this. Temples able to generate such an aura may have seemed likely to be more effective as instruments for managing the power apparently present. Other aspects of monumentality, at level of symbolism, both ritualistic and political, would then flow from this fundamental belief.

The architectural sequence in the North Acropolis at Tikal may provide a case study of this process. The architecture of the North Acropolis was mapped and designated as a series of distinct entities identified by individual structure numbers (Carr and Hazard, 1961). From the ancient Maya point of view, though, the acropolis might have been understood as one among the series of temples at the site center. Its formal complexity, suggesting a multi-temple make-up may reflect multiplicity and complexity of the meta-natural forces that Maya ritual specialists attempted to confront at this locus.

The North Acropolis Architectural Development

Tikal Report 14 (Coe, 1990) presents architecture of the North Acropolis in a clear evolutionary sequence, a spate of construction, occupation, modification, demolition, and reconstruction continuously active over many centuries. The points considered below concentrate on features directly related to monumentality, skipping over many other details.

The earliest material encountered, dating to about 800 B. C. (Coe, 1990, Chart 1, Vol. III), suggests that deep cuts into the bedrock, and trash-like deposits of debris, resulted from both residential and ceremonial activities that seem to have antedated any substantial architecture. Coe suggests (p. 815 Vol. III) that the site may have been a "natural prominence ... (favoring)... ideology", and for that reason might have been chosen for ritual activities: in other words, a natural place of k'u power.

An example of this kind of place may be Cerro Manati (Ortiz and Rodriguez 1999) in southern Veracruz, where meta-natural forces were understood to be present and ritual activities were focused on a distinctive landform feature with a pyramidal form. Constructional elaboration of the North Acropolis might have been intended to make this understanding of the site more readily evident, or perhaps to increase the likelihood that k'u would indeed be present at appropriate moments when ritual performances were set in motion.

The feature illustrated here as NA 12 (Figure 1) which falls within Coe's Time Span 13 (1990, 816-817, Vol. III) dating to the second century B. C. is the earliest recorded example of acropolis architecture. An uncertain number of earlier structures preceded this but had suffered extensive demolition. Coe suggests destruction went beyond that necessary for new building, as though some kind of cleansing had set the stage for a new program. This might have been the realization that man-made architecture could equal or even surpass the power of natural places for ritual. With earlier evidence so fragmented it is impossible to know if the physical evidence would support this assumption.

NA 12 possessed a clear formality that seems intentionally aimed at a monumental effect, though quite modest in scale. A major format of NA 1 (figure 12) six centuries later is already present here. The three NA 12 focal elements formed by two small frontal platforms and the north axial dominant feature (Sub.1 2^nd) prefigure the triadic arrangement of the three summit temples (5D 23, 24, and 22) in NA 1.

Figure 1 hypothetically shows completed lower platforms excavated across their front faces. Northern extent and complete forms are uncertain, but their effect appears to be that of very low basal terraces not strongly integrated with the upper body except for the paired lateral stairs that repeat at each level. The effect is that of two distinct parts; an upper body of three terraces, building platform, and building; and the two lower terraces with the two small shrine structures out in front. The broad surfaces of the lower platforms might have been designed to accommodate specific activities.

Although a progression of elements rising toward the north might have been appropriate ideologically, the lower elements are only weakly integrated into this movement, a condition that would diminish the sense of power that the structure could project.

This defect was retained in the next rebuilding of the Acropolis, NA 11 (figure 2). This one is more fully known than NA 12 and appears more integrated as a single entity. Coe places this Acropolis in Time Span 12, which covers the whole first century BC. NA 11 might relate to roughly the first half of this period.

Two architectonic features are most obvious; the rounded corners and the quadrangular arrangement of anciently demolished summit buildings, seen only as building platform footprints. Rounding of corners tends to bring diverse elements together as one complex body composed of distinct parts and this would tend to augment its monumental impact. The quadrangle of summit buildings presumably reflects both functional and conceptual, or iconographic, programs. It may be that the functions and meanings associated with the two frontal shrines of the preceding acropolis were now incorporated into the upper quadrangle. It is worth noting that a south, central building of some kind recurred throughout later developments, except for a briefly entertained alternative immediately following this one.

A most surprising aspect of this Acropolis is the absence of a "front" at its upper level although this might have been somewhat supplied by upper elements of the south, central (anciently demolished) building. Access appears to be only possible from the east and west flanks. The north-south axis is marked by outsets, a larger one to the north and a smaller one to the south. Directional implications of outsets can be assessed more confidently for centuries later NA 2 (figure 11). There is no front, or central stair, a most odd departure from prevailing norms.

The quadrangular plan accepts buildings that face in different directions. Where all NA 12 features faced south, NA 11 ones face north, south, east and west. Since directionality was a constituent aspect of meta-natural forces in all mesoamerican systems (c.f. Thompson, 1934), revision of acropolis form may have been designed to embody this factor. Directionality in the architecture could refer metaphorically to a mythological order, but might equally be seen instrumentally, as a way to enhance the possibility that directionally identified forces or beings might choose to be present here. Beyond this, one can imagine that the summit buildings of this acropolis housed ritual objects with directionally specific associations. In these ways this particular rebuilding might be seen as an effort to improve functionality of the acropolis for ritual (shamanic) purposes.

The quadranglar organization also tends to suggest residential architecture, although most residential complexes are somewhat less rigorously ordered. If the central objective was to encourage presence of meta-natural or k'u forces, residential architecture could satisfy this as by establishing a k'u "home" place. Of course, as Chris Jones suggested in his comments on a preliminary draft of this chapter, residential architecture might simply mean residential function; that the acropolis was the rulers' residence. This is very attractive as a parsimonious interpretation, but there are several arguments against it. Most versions of the acropolis are much less residential in form. Some elements of residential form are very common in structures, like Great Temple I for example, that seem clearly non-residential in function. Finally, Landa described ruler's residences as being close to central monumental complexes but not actually in them, as the North Acropolis very clearly is.

NA 10 (figure 3), probably built in the latter half of the first century B. C. since Coe places it together with NA 12 in TS 11, presents a decisive revision of acropolis architecture. For this new version the upper body was broadened to accommodate two identical summit features with elaborate substructures and partly vaulted buildings (Sub.1 and Sub. 9). Monumentality would have been greatly enhanced by the central, front stair on the upper platform body and further reinforced by the two (demolished) buildings flanking it at the summit.

In most architectural traditions axial compositions are established by the use of flanking elements to define the axial line and confirm its importance. For this reason it seems surprising that this arrangement did not persist in the North Acropolis once it had been put in place, even if this arrangement persisted only briefly. It is tempting to suspect there must have been some strong conceptual or functional reason for sub-dominant placing features directly on the axial line. The low basal terrace had flanking elements formed by two lateral frontal projections initially introduced in NA11.

The upper dominants (Sub. 1 and Sub. 9) work against overall monumentality by projecting equally in two different directions, each of which likely possessed its own specific significance. The absence of a single, clear dominant would definitely reduce overall strength of the cumulative monumental effect. It may be that a complex program of competing or divergent concerns governed the institution that the acropolis served and development of monumentality had to contend with this factor. The same weak integration of upper and lower elements that had impaired the two preceding versions continued to have the same effect.

The Time Span of NA 10 (TS 11) includes initial paving of the Great Plaza as a large, horizontal, plastered surface in front of the North Acropolis, a development that must have amplified impressiveness of the central zone very decisively. In this context, relative feebleness of Acropolis architecture might have become glaringly evident. This elaboration of the Great Plaza may reflect a ruler named Yax Ehb Xook or Yax Moox Xoc (c.f. Martin this volume) and known as the "Founder" of the subsequent dynastic line. Radical change in architectural form, and increased richness of Burial 85, which may (or may not) contain the remains of this individual, might embody a claim, perhaps for both dynastic legitimacy and shamanic capability, more ambitious than had been made earlier. This, in fact, might be the real significance of the term "Founder", and might pin-point a moment in which politics began to supplant or compete with shamanism in the social significance of the North Acropolis.

NA 8 (figure 5), still within Time Span 11, saw a subtle but very significant enhancement of architectural form. The lower acropolis terrace was now made much broader where previously it had been less than the front-to-rear depth. All elements, top to bottom, were now at least similarly proportioned though at cost of an even larger gap between the

lower platform and the upper body. Still, this certainly suggests that the designers of the acropolis were intent on pulling all the elements together to be perceived as one entity, a strategy essential to the maximal monumental effect. At the same time Sub-3 developed as a portal building channeling entry to the acropolis through its rear wall. This development may reflect the (unknowable) reason why the building was placed initially on the central axis, as an extension of the central stair.

It is noteworthy that Structure 5D-Sub.10-1^st, and the tomb under it in this Time Span sported murals depicting anthropomorphic figures in scrolls descending from something very like a sky-band. These may be ancestor images, and may constitute further evidence of dynastic appropriation on the acropolis, perhaps achieved by the "Founder" in NA 10.

The next acropolis, NA 7 (figure 6), in Time Span 10 from A. D. 75 to 170, presents a most decisive revision clearly aimed at greater monumental effect, yet still deeply flawed. In what may be a further response to earlier enhancement of the Great Plaza, five meters of height were now added just behind the frontal structure (Sub. 3) that had stood for some time at the head of the upper stair. Three new structures were located on the

new, higher summit, re-emphasizing the venerable secondary orientation to the west. The axial stair was made wider and higher. A new north axial structure (5D-22-6th) initiated

the series that developed into the final completion of the Acropolis. The lower platform, however, still reflected a separate central axis slightly off to the west.

Although the intent seems clearly linked to the scale of the Great Plaza, the unresolved, fragmentary nature of the upper south front must have damaged this aim. The character of form seems temporary, as though Sub. 3 was to be completely buried but something prevented this from happening. Again, we may be seeing a conflict between different elements within the group operating the acropolis.

Acropolis 6 (figure 7), in short Time Span 9 (A. D. 170 - 190), retains this unresolved formal treatment of the south front while installing a large axial stair scaled to the new, higher Acropolis. Frontal elements flank the axial line in the basal terrace, but they are small and formally weak in relation to the whole structure.

Time Span 8, A. D. 190 - 325, second longest in the North Acropolis sequence, contains two reconstructions, NA 5 and NA 4 (figures 8 and 9). The initial sub-stage (NA 5, figure 8) sets out the format for final resolution of earlier formal problems through an amplification of the upper body and a stronger integration with the lower terrace although its single stair, conspicuously off the upper axis, impaired this effect. At this time frontality and monumental treatment were greatlyenhanced by installation of large mask panels flanking the upper stair. Working against this, the three upper features, were most tentative in nature, crowded into the center and too small to complete the effect initiated by the stair and its mask panels. It seems as though there were two different teams with different notions about architecture. Those working on the middle body terracing and stair understood the scale, but those responsible for the upper features did not. Once again the conflicting emphases of both south facing and west facing features persisted at summit level.

An interesting aspect of this acropolis is the appearance of substantially scaled lateral stairs, allowing retention of the old dual stair system but in a new form. This might reflect functional demands of ritual procession moving on the central axis, off axis, and back on again, quite possibly as a program of ritual performance harking back to the very earliest surviving fragments.

Acropolis 4 (figure 9), emerging later in T. S. 8, may again reflect resolution of a recurrent programmatic conflict by establishing equal east and west orientations at the summit, with the north-south line clearly dominant. The spacing of the group seems to anticipate subsequent growth by allowing room for enlargement of the north dominant element (5D 22), still at this time too diminutive to exert a commanding presence effectively.

Acropolis 3 (figure 10), in Coe's longest T.S. 7, (A. D. 325 - 475) represents final culmination of the long search for the most effective monumental form for the North Acropolis at a scale appropriate to the Great Plaza. Only one relatively minor touch remained to be added (see NA 2). This assessment reflects the fundamental assumption that the intent driving architectural development and elaboration at this locus was in part concerned with the k'u forces assumed to be literally present, or at least potentially

present during ritual performance. Presumably the designers of this and preceding versions of the Acropolis wanted to make the architectural form such that presence of those forces could be more confidently secured and perhaps they succeeded here more fully than in earlier attempts. Merely comparing plan diagrams of the acropolis sequence suggests that none of the earlier versions possessed the formal power equal of NA 3.

The search might have been for an architecture not merely expressive or symbolic of k'u presence, but one able to actually secure that presence. A form with strong monumentality could have been seen as encouragement for k'u forces to choose to be present and to take up residence at least for the duration of ritual performances, and its perceptible effect might have been felt as the proof that this desired end had been achieved.

It may be no coincidence that this particularly coherent version of the North Acropolis appeared at just this time. Time Span 7 includes a most profound political development. This was the time of the A. D. 378 war event involving Uaxactun and installation of a new ruler, Curl Nose, who may have been from outside the traditional Tikal dynastic lineage (Jones, 1991; Culbert, 1991). This new rulership, perhaps with some kind of link to Teotihuacan, may have elevated Tikal to a new level as a regional power. If monumentality of the North Acropolis and Great Plaza had initially reflected meta-natural power, it now almost certainly expressed political power, probably layered on to the older priestly institutions. The sacerdotal aspect of the Acropolis may not have been diminished by this development. Greater architectural power might have reinforced the conviction that priestly ritual really could manage k'u forces through the efficacy of the temple. At the same time, this would provide on aspect of the support and credibility desired by a more ambitious dynastic establishment. If NA 3 was uniquely linked to the

new dynasty, this may explain why it was never subsequently completely obliterated despite pressures that caused its front face to rapidly disappear behind abutted new structures.

The next acropolis, NA 2, (figure 11), in Time Span 6 (475 - 600), is a very special case, as outlined below, but a hypothetical one in that it may never have existed. Three new outsets at the east, west and north sides of the middle body were added in the same stratigraphic level as the structures facing on to the Great Plaza (see figure 12). The sequence between outsets and frontal additions is just not demonstrable. Isolating NA 2 arbitrarily as one possible form that the acropolis could have reached in Time Span 6 if the outsets were added prior to the frontal structures reveals it as the most coherent and most monumentally powerful form realized within the North Acropolis development.

As seen in conjectural figure 11, the considerable formal complexity of this North Acropolis now became thoroughly integrated as one unified architectural vision. It can be compared in this regard with Temple I. Both appear as single entities composed of numerous parts very strongly integrated formally. If this version of the acropolis ever did exist then it raises the issue of how the acropolis was conceptualized. If it was thought about and designed as a single structure at this particular time perhaps the same was true from the beginning. NA 2 may have been the version in which design ideals present from the outset were finally most fully embodied. The whole architectural development might have been a process of modifying a fabric that was always thought of as a single entity despite the number of different features contained within it.

If a TS 6 acropolis did exist as illustrated in figure 11, then subsequent moves (figure 12) departing radically from previous practices might be understandable as reactions to it. Presumably the cultural pressures responsible for the continual enlargement and re-design of the acropolis did not suddenly cease. Yet a new attitude now appeared. New additions were no longer thought of as reshaping the whole fabric but as attachments to it, separate features posed frontally. This strategy allowed new construction to preserve the NA 2 Acropolis form. That this entity became somewhat cut off from the Great Plaza may have been acceptable in that it possessed sufficient power of its own to allow its continued functioning. In turn, this suggests another possibility, that the formal properties of the acropolis may not have been entirely a matter of how they projected into the plaza, but how they communicated with meta-natural entities existing in an "otherworld" domain of k'u forces. If this was the case, blocking off the frontfrom the Great Plaza would not greatly impair the primary function of the Acropolis.

In any case, whether or not the figure 11 acropolis did exist in that particular form, it certainly did not do so for very long. Frontal structures arrived within the same time span (NA 1, figure 12). If ever an acropolis in the form of figure 11 did see the light of day, it most likely would have emerged during the reign of Curl Nose. Initial motivation for locating new structures on the south front may well have been his tomb housed in 5D-34 as perhaps as well that of his son Stormy Sky (see Jones, this volume), placed so as to minimize obstruction of the acropolis as it had matured during his tenure.

NA 1 (figure 12) illustrates the final result of the process perhaps initiated by 5D-34. At first glance this acropolis seems to embody a rejection of earlier approaches, but as suggested above, it may indicate a high regard for the preceding sequence and a sense that this development had reached an unsurpassable fruition. If the forgoing is true, this version of the acropolis closed off a sequence of development begun roughly eight centuries earlier and finally evolved to such a point of architectural finality, clarity, and monumental strength (NA 2), that further change may have seemed regressive.

Semi-fictional NA 2 (figure 11), if it never did exist, raises an issue that is central to the question of how monumentality might have served a practical function. The side and rear outsets that distinguish this from its predecessor were added as separate elements. This suggests that these features possessed some particular significance of their own. They do not add surface area that might have accommodated ritual performances, and they solve no obvious structural problem. They may reflect the fundamental function of temples as instruments designed for management of meta-natural forces. They seem essentially related to directionality and thereby may connect with k'u forces. The Maya thought of meta-natural forces as having directionality (Thompson, 1934). In the shamanistic process of engaging with these forces, directionality would be one of the factors to be taken into account. The outsets may have been seen as features added to embody directionality in the architecture. Formal expression of directionality might, in a shamanistic view, allow or encourage the presence of the forces addressed by the ritual. In this regard it is worth noting Vogt's observation (1969; 375) that the crosses erected on shamanistic shrines in the hills around Zincantan are not Christian cross symbols, as they initially appear, but are "a means of communication with either the ancestral gods who live in the mountain or the earth god who lives beneath the surface of the earth." The NA 2 outsets exactly parallel these crosses as elaborations expressing directionality, like cross-roads (c.f. Bassie-Sweet 1996:22). This is the most explicit indication that monumental architectural form in the North Acropolis was designed to enhance shamanic function. That is, to achieve practical results, not merely to symbolize mythology. By extension, the quadrangular formats of NA 1 - 4 and NA 11 may be interpreted in the same way although these more complex structures would also house additional functions and invoke the very extensive mythology of four-sidedness (c.f. Bassie-Sweet 1969:28-31) .

Bassie-Sweet (1996:118) suggests that temples may have been places where "the dieties and ancestors came to receive their offerings." Earlier in the same work (1996:21ff) she reviews ideas of directionality citing crossroads as a general form of place at which supernaturals were likely to be encountered. These observations further support the interpretation suggested above.

By Time Span 6 it seems virtually certain that the North Acropolis reflected a dynastic tradition as well as a shamanic one. Earlier, in Time Span 13, this might have been less the case. At least, because they are so much smaller, dynastic presence seems weaker in the earlier levels. It may be that early versions of the Acropolis were formed around shamanic specialization and dynastic exploitation took over later. The final form of the Acropolis might embody both dynastic and sacerdotal considerations. If this highly speculative interpretation is remotely accurate the symbolic aspects of meaning, such as

memorialization, display of wealth and power, and metaphoric embodiment of cosmic orders, might have been layered on to forms initially expected to work on a more practical level by connecting with animistic forces. The basic architectural language of terrace profiles, plan shapes, and architectural character may have evolved out of a materialistic, functional application of shamanic knowledge and practice, which we can see clearly in relation to the cross-like forms, but remains obscure in other details. Monumentality would have possessed a definite, positive value in this context, and then, once developed could have been very conveniently arrogated for the self-interest of the dynastic elite.

The North Acropolis exemplifies a constituent feature of Mesoamerican monumental architecture; the habit of building, rebuilding, ripping out, demolishing, and renewing, in a constant rage of construction, at the same locus, as though the same structure had to be built over and over again. Coe proposed the term "architectural development" for this phenomenon. We have numerous examples of it but as yet there has been no systematic study of architecture developments specifically. The Copan acropolis sequence (Sharer et al 1999), which begins later than the North Acropolis, follows a similar course from modest beginnings toward something very large and complex that looks like a group of structures rather than one individual work.

Future projects will no doubt provide more data, but it is probably not too soon to look at patterns of superimposition that we can already see in monumental construction at various centres. Studies looking at patterns of change within architectural developments over a range of examples will no doubt yield different results. The North Acropolis sequence reviewed here shows a progressive trend toward increasing monumentality and greater formal coherence followed by stasis in the face of continued development, as though some kind of search had been underway, seeking and eventually finding the most powerful architectural expression appropriate to that particular place. Other sequences may show quite different patterns suggesting different intentions. The hypothesis sketched here for the North Acropolis obviously needs testing by comparison with other architectural developments.

The more fundamental inference explored here, that temple architecture was expected to produce practical results, beyond the symbolic and metaphoric content that it surely conveyed, if valid for Tikal, surely must have some application not only to Maya monumental temple architecture but perhaps to ancient world traditions generally.

Notes

1. Coe's group plans (1990, Figure 6) were redrawn to graphically convey architectural form as distinct from the strict record of archaeological evidence actually seen. For example, figure 1 is Coe's Figure 6a. Where he left the lower platforms incomplete because of limitations of excavation, they have been completed, but of course on a purely hypothetical basis. Uncertainties due to preservation or accessibility (broken line) have been suppressed in the figures in favor of a clear morphology. For the sake of simplicity in discussion, sequential units are labeled as NA 12 (earliest), through NA 1 (latest). Other units did precede NA 12. Figures 1 Ð 12 all come from Coe's figure 6.

References

Ashmore, Wendy,

Bassie-Sweet, Karen,

1996. At The Edge of the World: Caves and Late Classsic Maya World View. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

Carr, R. F. and J. E. Hazard,

1961 Map of the Ruins of Tikal, El, Peten, Guatemala. Tikal Report No. 11, University Museum Monograph 21. Philadelphia: University Museum.

Coe, William R.,

1990 Excavations in the North Acropolis, North Terrace, and Great Plaza of Tikal. Tikal Report no. 14. Philadelphia: University Museum.

Culbert, T. Patrick,

1991 Polities in the Northeast Peten, Guatemala. In Classic Maya Political History.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Diaz Del Castillo, B.

1963 The Conquest of New Spain. Baltimore.

Dunning, Nicholas P.,

1992 Lords of the Hills: Ancient Maya Settlement in the Puuc Region, Yucatan, Mexico. Madison: Prehistory Press.

Eliade, Mircea

1959 The Sacred and the Profane. New York: Harcourt and Brace.

Ellul, Jacques,

1964 The Technological Society. New York.

Frankfort, H., and H. A., John A. Wilson, Thorkild Jacobsen and William A Irwin,

1946 The Intellectual Adventure of Ancient Man. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Freidel, Schele and Parker,

1993 Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the shaman's Path. New York: William Morrow.

Gillespie, Susan D. And Rosemary A. Joyce,

1998 Deity Relationships in Mesoamerican Cosmologies. Ancient Mesoamerica 9(2): 279-296.

Grove, David C.,

1999 Public Monuments and Sacred Mountains: Observations on Three Formative Period Sacred Landscapes. In Social Patterns in Pre-Classic Mesoamerica, David C. Grove and Rosemary A. Joyce, eds. Pp. 255-299. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks.

Jones, Christopher,

1991 Cycles of Growth at Tikal. In Classic Maya Political History. T. Patrick Culbert, Ed. Pp.102-124. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Lewis, R. Barry and Charles Stout

1998 Mississippian Towns and Saacred Places: searching for an architectural grammar. Tuscaloosa and London: University of Alabama Press.

Miller, Arthur,

1986 Maya Rulers of Time. Philadelphia: The University Museum.

Murray, Peter and Linda Murray,

1959 A Dictionary of Art and Artists. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books.

Marcus, Joyce,

1989 Zapotec Cheifdoms and the Nature of Formative Religions. In Regional Perspectives on the Olmec. Robert J. Sharer and David C. Grove. Eds. Pp.148-197. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Marcus, Joyce, Kent V. Flannery and Ronald Spores,

1983 The Cultural Legacy of the Oaxacan Preceramic. In The Cloud People: evolution of the Zapotec and Mixtec civilizations of Oaxaca, Mexico. Kent Flannery and Joyce Marcus, eds, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

Lewis Mumford

1961 The City in History. New York.

Ponciano Ortiz and C. And Maria Del Carmen Rodriguez,

1998 Olmec Ritual Behaviour at El Manati: A Sacred Space. In Social Patterns in Pre-Classic Mesoamerica. David C. Grove and Rosemary A. Joyce, eds. P. 225- 254. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks.

Ringle, William M.

1999 Pre-Classic Cityscapes: Ritual Politics Among the Early Lowland Maya. In Social

Patterns in Pre-Classic Mesoamerica. David C. Grove and Rosemary A. Joyce eds. Pp. 183-223. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks.

Schele, Linda,

1997. The Iconography of Maya Architectural Facades. In Function and Meaning in Classic Maya Architecture. Stephen D. Houston, ed. Pp. 479-517. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks.

Sharer, Robert J., Loa P. Traxler, David Sedat, Ellen E. Bell, Marcello A. Canuto, and Christopher Powell,

Stuart, David,

Sugiyama, Saburo,

Townsend, R. F.

1979 State and Cosmos in the Art of Tenochtitlan. Studies in Pre-Columbian Art and

Archaeology No. 20. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks.

Trigger, Bruce G.,

Tate, Carolyn, E.

1999 Patrons of Shamanic Power. Ancient Mesomerica 10(2): 169-188.

Taube, Karl,

1992 The major Gods of Ancient Yucatan. Washington: Dumbarton oaks.

Tedlock, Dennis (translator)

1985 Popol Vuh, the Mayan book of the dawn of life: Simon and Schuster.

Thompson, J.E.S.,

Vogt, Evon Z.

1969 Zincantan: a Maya Community in the Highlands of Chiapas. Harvard University.

Webster, David,