Ceremonial <em>Huipíl</em> (Blouse)
Since ancient times, Maya women have worn a wide, rectangular blouse known as a <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>huipíl</i></span><i> </i>over a wrap-around skirt. This mid-20th century one comes from the famous market town of <span><span style="text-decoration:underline;">Chichicastenango</span>.</span><br /><br />A three-part <i>huipíl </i>such as this would have been worn on important occasions; the brocade on the top of each part section takes months to produce. The fine, snowy white cotton grows in this area, and throughout most the Americas, but the patterning threads come from a mixture of materials, such as the wool of sheep the Spanish introduced in the 16<sup>th</sup> century.<br /><br />In more recent examples acrylic yarns and synthetic dyes may be present; the Maya have always been open to incorporating bright colors and lasting materials into their festive wear.
<em>Servilleta</em> (Napkin) Inscribed with Mateo Yax’s Name
<em>Huipíl</em> (Blouse)
<p>Maya <i><span style="text-decoration:underline;">huipíles</span></i>, indigenous women’s rectangular blouses, vary from one town to another in Guatemala. Weavers from the town of <span style="text-decoration:underline;">Chimaltenango</span>, in north-central Guatemala, expresses their ethnicity in very skillfully brocaded pieces, with rows of bold geometric patterns in brilliant colors. They weave the panels of their blouses on <a href="http://34.193.12.70/items/show/111">backstrap looms</a>.</p>
<p>Though now made from aniline (chemically derived) dyes, the purples and greens are part of an age-old palette of natural colors valued by the Maya and other indigenous peoples. Likewise, the ancient Maya valued greenstones, especially jadeite, above all else. Its color cousin, blue, was applied to ceramics after firing using a mixture of clays and minerals known as Maya Blue. These colors that are rare in nature have remained at the top of the Maya palette over the millennia, despite the massive changes that have taken place in the Americas from the Spanish invasion to globalization.</p>
<p>Ceremonial <em>Huipíl</em> (Blouse) with <em>Cuyuscate</em> (Natural Brown Cotton)<br /><br /></p>
This blouse, woven in the 1920s, ranks as the finest Maya textile in the Carlos collection, with its expanse of the natural brown cotton, the darker shade known as <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>cuyuscate</i></span> and the slightly lighter one <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>ixcaco</i></span>. Its deep purple-maroon-pink brocading is highly prestigious above and beyond the expanse of natural brown cotton it covers. The complex brocade patterns, plus the subtle variations in the brown cotton creating background stripes, make this example an extraordinary work of fiber art. This same naturally colored cotton was identified in a <a href="/items/show/32">man’s shirt</a> from the ancient Andes, showing that this material has held high status for centuries.
<p>Ceremonial <em>Huipíl</em> (Blouse) with Long Brocaded Center Panel</p>
This <i><span style="text-decoration:underline;">huipíl</span> </i>is exemplary of early 20<sup>th</sup> century style blouses made in <span style="text-decoration:underline;">Chichicastenango</span>. The sun pattern is actually sewn on by the weaver’s husband, as the sun is considered the masculine spiritual force. The black fabric circles represent the moon. White buttons in the center of the circles replace metal ones from earlier times; both metal and white evoke the color of the moon and its silvery light. A woman who can wear both sun and moon symbols signals that she is married, has children, and is an accomplished weaver.
Wedding <em>Huipíl</em> (Blouse)
<p>Made in a very small farming village, Santa Lucía Utatlán, this wedding blouse displays clear Spanish elements. Departing from traditional choices, this wedding <i><span style="text-decoration:underline;">huipíl</span> </i>has only two panels instead of the usual three. It also incorporates an elaborate machine-made lace collar and cuffs, their gathering clearly indicating the Hispanic influence. Yet the white-on-white brocade on the bottom third of the <i>huipíl </i>is typical of Maya wedding wear and the bands of bright colors indicate that its maker was a skilled weaver of brocade.<br /><br />Tree motifs appear on the white section, either representing the ceiba (silk-cotton) tree, from whose roots the ancient Maya believe their bloodlines originated, or the pine tree, which symbolizes long life and elite status. Red, purple, and yellow are customary colors for <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>huipiles</i></span>, as are banded stripes. Zigzag bands have been identified in ancient Maya textiles as water imagery, while rhomboids and diamonds may depict the four parts of the cosmos.<br /><br />The materials used in the brocade of this blouse are not the age-old cotton one might expect. New synthetic yarns are dyed with aniline dyes, giving them an extra shiny and almost brassy appearance. These choices reflect the continued Maya love of color, but alter the brightness and texture of the traditional Maya palette.</p>
Woman’s Ceremonial <em>Perraje</em> (Shawl)
<p>More complex patterns are made with tie-dyed threads only in the warp direction, in the piece at left. For a motif with curves the tying off before the dyeing takes considerably more time to accomplish, and precise planning and manual dexterity become more demanding.</p>
<p>No matter how elaborate the patterning, the characteristic look of <i><span style="text-decoration:underline;">jaspé</span></i>, its blurry edges where colors change, comes from the fact that tying off with thread is not completely exact (see examples of tie-dyed warps <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><a href="http://34.193.12.70/items/show/104">here</a></span>). Some indigo inevitably seeps into some threads more than others during dyeing. When the warps are pulled taut on the loom, one changes from white to blue a little before or after its neighbor. Real <i>jaspé</i> has the exact same pattern on the front face of the cloth as the back, whereas recent printed imitations do not.</p>
<p>Though the word comes from the Andes, the Quechua concept of <i><span style="text-decoration:underline;">ukhu</span></i>—the hidden revealed—seems applicable to tie-dye. When making the warps, what is hidden from subsequent colors becomes the pattern. In addition, when they are reunited in the final cloth, their potential to make patterns has become fully revealed.</p>
Sacred Shamanic Cloth
<p>This seemingly innocuous blue cloth with animals in red and yellow embroidery is called a <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>pisbal kotsih</i></span>. It resembles many of the other general-purpose cloths used by the Maya to carry babies, food, place on the head to protect from sun and cold, and so on. However, an indigenous shaman uses this type of cloth to bundle up powerful ritual items, from flowers to candles to incense. It is then taken to special places to ask the spirits for help on behalf of his or her clients who are ill or having a problem such as infertility.</p>
<p>The items are natural (the flowers), Catholic-related (candles), and indigenous (<span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>pom</i></span><i> </i>incense), all brought together for their agency in carrying the client’s prayers to the ancestors and gods, who are believed to enjoy the smells and colors. <i>Pisbal kotsih </i>is translated as “carrier of prayer-containers,” the cloth as the carrier and the contents as the containers for the prayers. This is a very ancient way of interacting with the spiritual realm through objects, which were considered living bearers of thoughts and desires. Ancient Maya art shows many scenes with sacred bundles and people in trance states experiencing visionary creatures in the smoke of ritual items being burned.</p>
<p>These modern sacred cloths are decorated with large animal and occasionally human figures, some terrestrial and some supernatural. This example includes horses, felines, deer, monkeys, and tapirs, as well as double-headed birds and other potentially supernatural fauna. Running horses and rearing maned cats indicate the European influence, as the Spanish brought horses and no felines in the Americas sport manes. Yet, despite these decidedly European motifs, this type of bundle cloth was used well before the arrival of the Spanish, and certain animals relate back to ancient <span>K’iche’</span> Maya origin stories and deities.</p>
<p>Post-Conquest, these shamanic cloths continue to be used in ritual contexts, often on festival days by <i><span style="text-decoration:underline;">cofradías</span>, </i>showing how they intersect with Latin America Catholicism. A shaman may even use his ritual bundle in the church, treating his client during mass, showing the intimate overlap of the two religions that persists to this day.</p>
<p><em>Huipíl</em> (Blouse) for a Female Saint or Effigy of the Virgin Mary</p>
<p>This miniature woman’s blouse was woven for a wooden <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>santa</i></span> (female saint figure) to wear as she stood or sat on an altar in a Catholic church in San Pedro Sacatepéquez. Dressing saints in traditional Maya attire is an obvious way in which the two cultures, Maya and European, interact and blend. The church in which this <i>santa</i> would have been placed represents a type of architecture, furnishings, and statuary that would have been wholly foreign to Maya sensibilities. The Spanish introduced their form of worship and its accoutrements, yet had trouble even getting “Indians” to enter the buildings, let alone follow the Catholic rites. Indigenous shamanic rituals almost always take place outdoors or in a house; there is no particular church or temple form involved in this visionary approach to gaining supernatural aid.</p>
<p>However, shamanic understanding of the powers that objects can hold and the way they can send <a href="/items/show/107">petitions to the spirits</a> were transferred onto the new saint figures. Indeed, the Spanish were suspicious of how ardent the indigenous people were in dressing and re-dressing them, leaving them food and drink, as well as carrying them carefully through the streets on the saint’s day (and on other times that did not necessarily correlate with the Catholic calendar). Maya treated and still treat the figures as living beings.</p>
<p>Lavishing her time, a talented Maya woman wove this tiny blouse for a <i>santa</i> in the high-prestige colors of purple and pink. A small garment is actually more difficult to weave than a full-size one, requiring greater manual dexterity. The two holes in the front, with their carefully embroidered edges, may reveal who wore this particular <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>huipíl</i>.</span> The Mother Mary often is shown nursing Jesus and one hole could have been for her arm and one for her breast. In this way, the Maya reinforce their ideal female role as fertile, nurturing, responsible, and skillful. In colonial paintings from nearby Mexico, Mary is often depicted spinning or weaving, again reflecting indigenous values in the midst of Spanish religious demands.</p>
Purple <em>Corte</em> (Skirt)
<p>As a Maya weaver, or more often an entire traditional indigenous family, takes on more intricate designs for <span style="text-decoration:underline;"><i>jaspé</i></span> cloths, the planning and execution become accordingly more challenging. Even machine-made examples, such as this skirt involve incredible amounts of effort to produce. The fact that <i>jaspé</i> textiles are both hand-made (more traditional) and machine-made (more changed), shows how important it is to maintain as a technique for indigenous-identifying Maya. This bespeaks the overall value on still placed on creating high-quality and time-consuming cloth, despite modern technology and its inevitable changes.</p>
<p>While the machine-made skirt has more threads per inch, which is relatively easier and quicker to accomplish with machines than with human fingers, it still reflects the same kinds of telltale blurry edges that signal the prestigious technique of <i>jaspé</i>. The imprecision itself is considered important, reminiscent of the Andean idea that irregularity <span style="text-decoration:underline;">(<i>q’iwa</i></span>) has a high value within a normally orderly aesthetic. In the case of <i>jaspé</i>, the inevitable serration of the edges indicates—especially to a textile-literate audience such as the Maya—how much went into the creation of this type of cloth. Expending large amounts of time, it could be argued, is a more traditional approach to textile making than an “efficient” modern, mechanized one. Therefore, even the machine-made skirt is defying Western and modern values in its own way.</p>