Architecture, space, and cognition

Since ancient times, cities and towns have incorporated dominant architectural features as a means of signaling the priorities of civic and/or elite populations, as a way of making apparent the hierarchy of popular or imposed institutions, whether religious, governmental, or technological in nature. Often it has been architectural features, such as the degree of decoration displayed on buildings, combined with the relative size of functionally specific structures, that have been used as a way of signaling this order of priority, where building size has been especially important in communication over distance. Traditionally, the term “skyline” referred to a line in the distance where the earth and sky met. Today, the term has come to represent those buildings of a town or city visible at a distance on the horizon (Kostof 1991: 279). More often the prominent buildings influence how a city is perceived, signaling the prevailing social and/or political order of the time. For instance, in modern societies it is the secular architecture of enterprise that now dominates the landscape of most cities, where corporate skyscrapers now overshadow the religious architecture of churches and cathedrals (Kostof 1991: 280–294). In the ancient past, funerary monuments and temple architecture outshone all other forms, the most prominent being the Ziggurats of Mesopotamia and the temples and pyramids of Egypt and Mesoamerica.

Applying the methods discussed in Chapter 2, my goal in Chapter 3 is to demonstrate, using a simple example, how “access analysis” of architecture and associated sculpture can be used to distinguish societal boundaries in Classic Maya city centres, before proceeding to more complicated architecture and methodological procedures in later chapters. The building group focused on in this chapter is the Cross Group at Palenque. Following a brief introduction to the site of Palenque, a general description of the buildings and sculpture that comprise the Cross Group will be presented in accordance with Schele and Freidel (1990: 237–261), Greene Robertson (1991: 9–54), and Stuart (2006: 86–190). Following the introductory section, the results of a spatial analysis of the Cross Group temples and associated sculpture will be presented.

Situated in the southern Mexican state of Chiapas, the site of Palenque is positioned in the foothills of the northern slope of the Sierra de las Naranjas, on the southwest periphery of the Maya region (Maudslay 1889–1902b: 8; Sharer 1994: 276). Placed strategically on a high natural platform overlooking low fertile plains (Andrews 1975: 168), Palenque's core measures approximately 2.2 km2. The site's settlement density is estimated to have once been the second highest in the Maya area, averaging 673 structures per square kilometre (Copán is purported to have had the highest density at 1,449 structures in a 0.6 km2 area) (Barnhart 2001: 73).

Palenque Palace: General description

In accordance with Andrews (1975: 59–63), the Palace at Palenque has been defined as a Palace Group archetype. In this chapter, I will first present a general description of the Palace Group followed by a phase-by-phase explanation of each building and associated sculpture. As outlined earlier in this investigation, temporally and spatially disparate sculpture and architecture cannot be compared indiscriminately: The gradual accumulation of monuments over time and the extension, modification, and renewal of buildings affect the capacity of architecture and associated sculpture to provide telling relationships. To address this problem, architectural features and sculptures of the Palace were assigned to phases and the reigns of kings. These assignments provided a way of confining the periods investigated, as well as placing any correlation made between sculpture, architecture, and space in context. With the help of “access analysis,” the objectives in articulating the various Palace phases were threefold: (1) to more effectively reveal the progression of sculptural and architectural development of the Palace Group; (2) to provide a platform for inferring the possible intent of Maya rulers in their commissioning and placement of particular sculptural media within specific spatial/architectural contexts; and (3) to establish a method of comparing the different rulers' sculptural and architectural programs.

Access analysis of the Palace Phases 1–6

As outlined at the beginning of Chapter 4, the first stage of the Palace Group investigation required that I establish a relative chronology of Palace buildings at Palenque, followed by the breaking up of the proposed sequence of construction into phases that correspond to the reigns of the kings. My objective in doing this was to more clearly articulate the various architectural and sculptural programs of the Palace as well as to provide a platform for inferring the intent of different rulers in the placement of certain sculpture within specific spatial contexts. In Chapter 4, six maps of the Palenque Palace were presented, each representing different stages in the evolution of the building group. These maps were used to construct a series of “access diagrams” that were implemented to hierarchically order and interpret the “spaces” and corresponding sculpture of each Palace phase (see Appendix 3, Palenque Palace Sculpture Phases 1–6). Using various techniques in “access analysis,” in addition to the “thematic–analytical” inquiry of monumental art, my goal was to detect shifts in the content and placement of Palace Group sculpture over time and through space, as prescribed by changes in corresponding “carrier depths,” “relative asymmetry” (RA), and “control value” calculations. General questions that I address in this chapter are: (1) Is there specific sculpture marking certain types of spaces? (2) What may have motivated the apparent strategic placement of fixed sculpture media in Maya city centres?

Access analysis of Maya building groups, together with thematic inquiry of monumental art, has provided a means of further assessing the role that imagery played in signaling how space was used and socially demarcated in Classic Maya city centres. At the beginning of this inquiry, I argued that, because of limitations in the breadth of literacy among the Classic Maya (a.d. 250–900; Marcus 1992b: 230), an alternative means would have been required to transmit doctrine to the wider population. One of the methods that the Maya elite would have used to communicate to the broader masses in city centres was with the strategic placement of sculpture and other iconographic media, in effect using monumental art as a form of “signposting” and as a means of signaling the function and hierarchical divisions in ritual and administrative spaces in city centres.

The objective of my investigation was to determine whether a spatial analysis of sculpture within a Classic Maya centre would influence current proposals that define elite-civic demarcation and area function, sustained by ethnohistoric, artefactual, and epigraphic assessment. As previously stated, I saw value in a study establishing whether imagery, as displayed on monuments and architecture, could further contribute to our understanding of social order and control within important Maya sites. Results of my analysis of sculpture and other artwork associated with the earlier phases of the Palace Group, as well as the Cross Group temples at Palenque, do suggest a correspondence between the thematic variations present in Classic Maya art and differences in the accessibility of that art.

Attitudes toward food, thinking about food, and the offering up of food in sacrifice were formative elements in the conception of models of sagehood in early China. To the ancient Chinese, consuming, exchanging, and offering up food were often seen as acts of self-cultivation that could impart physical, moral, and political benefits on individuals, society, and its rulers. A cursory glance at the hoards of bronze vessels unearthed from Shang and Zhou sites, or the large array of stone and clay artifacts and lacquerware recovered from Warring States and Han tombs, suffices to illustrate that a vibrant culture surrounded the preparation, consumption, and ritual presentation of food. This rich world of food inspired an equally fascinating world of ideas.

This book seeks to shed light on the intricate world of ideas that surrounded sacrificial food culture in early China. It explores how the culture of sacrificial religion, its underlying philosophies, and the ritual practices associated with it helped shape the background against which the early Chinese conceived ideals of sagehood. In addition, this study examines how sacrificial religion influenced the ways in which the early Chinese explained the workings of the human senses and the role of sensory experience in communicating with the spirit world. In essence, I will argue that early Chinese ritual and religious practice was based on the premise that what was spiritual was “sensible,” and this book identifies sacrificial procedure as the core practice through which this becomes evident.

In a recent book, Cambridge archaeologist Martin Jones offers a fascinating account of the history of bread. He shows how bread, much as it was a source of nutrition in the ancient Mediterranean world and Christian Europe, should also be thought of as a cultural object. The “artistry of the loaf” – its color, shape, and ingredients – turns bread into an intriguing semiotic tool for the archaeologist through which to interpret the cultures that consumed it: “Just as different clays mixed with different tempering agents produce different kinds of ceramic, so different flours, combined with different ingredients, create different kinds and shapes of loaf.” In many ways, scholars seeking to unravel the semantics of food in ancient societies are like the cooks, bakers, and diners they write about. They decide on a set of sources, temper these with questions inspired by their discipline, and cook up an analytical narrative that connects with the investigative taste of their readership. The story of food in China is one that has attracted the attention of China scholars very early on. It does not end here. Food culture will continue to offer a fruitful window through which to examine Chinese thought and society, in past and present.

It is late autumn. The fields have been cleared of crops, the harvests stored in granaries, and among the herds that were carefully nourished and pastured over the spring and summer months, the best animals have been set apart as victims for sacrificial ceremonies that mark the coming ritual calendar. The Son of Heaven, so the “Monthly Ordinances” prescribe, assembles his feudal lords, issues the calendar for the coming year, and sets out the rules and quota for the taxes to be extracted from his people. The amount of goods to be levied as tribute is calculated and determined according to the geographical distance of his vassals to the court, the quality of their lands, and their obligatory contributions to state and ancestral sacrifices. In all of this, the ruler is advised to levy no more than the required amount from his people and encouraged to neglect his private needs.

Like feeding one's subjects or catering for the ruler's kitchen, serving spirits through sacrificial ritual was both a costly and complex operation. The scenario described in the opening paragraph and variants of it across Warring States and Han texts unveil a world in which religious obligation and economic duty are deeply intertwined; a society where goods used in the service of the spirits are levied together with taxes to support the mundane organization of everyday life. It is a world where economics and religious obligation meet and do so, ideally, for the public good.

Both the strategies aimed at conditioning the bodies and minds of ritual participants and the care invested in preparing and selecting the material apparatus and offerings for sacrifice drew on the idea that the sacrificial exchange facilitated access to the spirit world through sublimated modes of sensory perception that transcended normal everyday life. Preparatory acts such as purifying the body through diet or marking out the sacrificial space through olfactory, visual, and aural stimuli served to distinguish human agency during sacrifice from conduct in daily life. Similarly, offerings and implements used in sacrifice were set apart from daily usage, and often their selection was dictated by taboos and requirements specific to the ritual occasion. At the end of a ritual cycle, some offerings or parts thereof could transform back into edibles for human consumption during sacrificial banquets or feasts.

The efficacy of sacrificial ritual in early China was thought to depend largely on the degree to which the ritualist was able to tap into the right sensory channels through fragrance, sound, color, flavor, and orchestrated movement and dance. Although firmly anchored in the physical world, the powers generated by sensory stimuli through sacrifice were transgressive in that they both provided ephemeral contact with the spirit world and transformed the body and sensory engagement of the human participant(s).

Just as ritual texts contained dietary codes and strategies for nourishing humans and managing the consumption of food in a social setting, so the canon contained elaborate regulations on how to feed the spirit world through ritual sacrifice. We already touched on several areas where the feeding of spirits in sacrifice emerged as a preamble to or extension of cooking and dining procedures among humans. The complementary nature of both activities revealed itself in varying degrees of abstraction. At the level of the collective, there was the ritual feast or banquet that included thanksgiving offerings to ancestral and other spirits. At the level of the individual, ideas about nourishing life and cultivating the body drew on the assumption that diet could induce spirit powers to lodge themselves within the body of the adept. The parallels between human cuisine and the nourishment of the spirit world extended further. They applied to classifications of sacrificial foodstuffs, ideas about flavor and fragrance, the mechanics of preparing and presenting offerings – in short, the sensory stimulation of both humans and spirits.

Food was one among several sensory tools that offered a conduit for communication with the spirit realm. In the same way as a banquet or royal meal was to be accompanied by music and entertainment, food offerings to the spirits were rarely presented in isolation.