Mercurial Maps and Pragmatic Goals

In stating the goal for the map to be a ‘baseline’ for future research a the site, Millon (1973a:31) made reference to pragmatic criteria as the arbiter of the validity of all of the immense effort and time spent during the TMP. Was it going to be useful to future researchers? Would it not only answer initial questions, but more importantly would it lead to more courses-of-action? Or would it be a relative ‘dead-end’ representation, as had previous representations of the site (discussed below), and not generate more complimentary work? Having already attempted a partial map of the northwest of the site and so aware of the sheer complexity and scale he was confronting, Millon knew that “an accurate, detailed map was an indispensable precondition for any intensive study of urbanization at Teotihuacan” (ibid.:xi). In terms of the goal of understanding urbanization, the narrative above attests to the vast amount of increasingly sophisticated knowledge which the TMP sparked. And understanding the urbanization process has continued, because of Teotihuacan’s unique circumstances, to be a shared goal of the great majority subsequent archaeological projects at the site. This criterion of usefulness, as arbiter of the map, is a commonly held precept for these projects. The results are addendums to the TMP map, adding to and literally ‘filling-in’ the map with ever more detailed spatial information and the identification ever more precise spatial and chronological relationships.

A couple of significant contributions that have detailed the map include Cabrera’s excavations at La Ventilla (Gómez Chávez 2000, Serrano Sánchez 2003), Cabrera, Cowgill, Serrano and Sugiyama’s excavations at the Temple of the Feathered Serpent (Cabrera 1991, Sugiyama 2005), and Cabrera and Sugiyama’s excavations in the Pyramid of the Moon (Sugiyama 1999, 2007) (Figure 4.5). Starting from the more precise mapping of the dimensions and features of these structures visible from the ground with the TMP map, each of these excavations undertook more thorough explorations of each of these structures or series of structures. The surface of the Pyramid of the Moon and the Sun had each been cleared of debris during previous excavations (sometimes erroneously ‘reconstructed’ as in the case of Batres’ work at the Sun), and the subsurface lineaments of La Ventilla (specifically La Ventilla B) had just been exposed under modern agricultural fields prior to the TMP (Millon 1973a:xii). The exposed dimensions of these edifices visible during the TMP had been inscribed on the map (Figure 4.3). What these more recent projects accomplished was the refinement of the acuity of the TMP map by registering the features encountered during their respective investigations. This customary interrelationship between archaeological survey and excavation data is a matter of inter-collating information of different spatial scales. For example, in the case of the Pyramid of the Moon, boring a series of tunnels into the interior of the massive edifice allowed the identification of seven distinct building phases (Sugiyama and Cabrera 2007) and five primary dedicatory assemblages (burials and offerings) associated with these successive enlargements of the monument (Sugiyama 2007). Extrapolating from the locations of each successive surface of the pyramid encountered during the excavations, a set of seven distinct dimensions, corresponding to different phases of the monument, could be added to the project’s map. Composed digitally in an AutoCad, three-dimensional drafting program, the result is new, smaller scale (and three-dimensional) map (Figure 4.5 upper left).

Figure 4.5: The ‘Millon Map’ (from Millon 1973: ‘map 1’) with mixed maps of subsequent projects (from Sugiyama and Cabrera 2007:113, Sugiyama 2005:21 and Serrano Sanchez 2003:52; scales relative to each map)

Subsequent to the creation of the Sugiyama map, the TMP map no longer visualizes the most current understanding of the spatial relationships of the Pyramid of the Moon. It now only provides the general, external dimensions of this monument. It is the media architecture, literally the ‘external walls’, upon which the internal dimensions of different construction phases and burial complexes of the Sugiyama map are ‘hung upon’. Collated or cross-referenced to the original TMP map, both maps now work integrally as a map assemblage. This process of ‘filling in’ the TMP map is repeated with the La Ventilla apartment compound complex map (discussed in ‘Dispelling representation’ of Chapter 3; Figure 4.5, lower left) and the Temple of the Feathered Serp ent Project map (Figure 4.5, lower right). What is more, the TMP serves so effectively as the ‘media architecture’ for Teotihuacan that it is capable of retroactively accommodating maps drawn previously to the TMP, such as the innovative apartment compound maps of Linné (2003 [1934], see Manzanilla's collation, 1996:229).

The systematic and standardized blocks of the TMP map design, geo-referenced to the ‘zero point’ of the datum stake driven into the ground of the avenida (marking the N1W1/S1W1/N1E1/S1E1 hub of the grid nework), grant this mutability-through-augmentation quality to the map – a ‘combinationability’ (cf. Latour 1986:8). Capable of indefinite expansion outwards by the addition of further numbered blocks, and the expansion inward (also conceivably indefinite depending upon scale) within any block or blocks by the inclusion of smaller, but compatibly scaled, maps, future projects at Teotihuacan will continue to operate with the TMP map. This is a testament to Millon’s goal, the functional service of the map for generations of scholars at Teotihuacan to come.

This brings up an interesting point about the representational capacity of the TMP map. Maps are often thought of as a ‘snapshot’ of physical features at a particular moment in time (when the site was surveyed by the TMP in the 1960’s). They correspond to localized space as a function of time. Features of space alter with time, so that to visualize spatial information in the static medium of a map, time must be held constant. But the TMP map renders multi-temporality in its very encoding: the form (size and scale) and content (delineated structures) are the function of different processes at different times. In other words, the size and scale was established by the city’s maximum extent of urbanization by around 200 CE and content largely manifested by 350 CE but continually changing through the vagaries of development up until the most recent road construction and agricultural fields of the late 1960’s. In fact, the very surveying of spatial features occurred over several years – 1963 to 1966 (Millon 1973a:20).

This folding of multi-temporal data into a single map does not detract from its usefulness. To the contrary, this inscription of the palimpsest of features over time contributes to the compression of data encoded by the map. Compressing data is a key feature of the visual display of quantitative information (Tufte 1990, 2001). The TMP map – and most modern cartographic displays – does a remarkable job at compressing so much data. This compression of data is further enhanced through another asset of visualizing quantitative information, what Tufte (1990:37-9) terms ‘micro-macro combination’. That is, the ability to move from general, contextual information (such as the overall extent of the city, or the areas of dense and/or monumental construction) to detailed data (internal configuration of apartment compounds, passageways or types of structures) without the disruption of eye movement. Compressing all of this macro and micro-data in a single visual field allows for visual comparison and pattern recognition (a well developed ability of human cognition), instead of reliance upon visual memory (a ‘weaker’ ability) (Tufte 1990).

However, these very admirable qualities of mutability, compression of data, and micro-macro combination argue against the notion of maps as representational media in a mimetic, correspondence sense (the tradition discussed in Chapters 2-3). It can be argued that the TMP map ‘corresponds’ to the physical features of the archaeological zone as encountered by the survey crews in the 1960’s. That it is an accurate representation. But what does this do for us in considering what the TMP map does? How it is inextricable from the practice of archaeology at Teotihuacan?

So looking back at the exemplary qualities of the TMP map and the examples of research which have already been presented, the compression of data inherent to the map means that to study urbanization we must ‘peel back’ the lines of data to ‘reset’ the map to the beginning of the urbanization process. To filter out those discreet lines of structures to only consider what is appropriate to the Patlachique phase. Then, with the chronological data cross-referenced to this phase and subsequent building phases, we can proceed forward to document the demographic and construction changes over time as the map’s features slowly pan out across the various blocks until they reach the extension and complexity of what is presented in the map’s final form. Following this urbanization process with reference to coordinates of the map is what has already been more fully presented. But it entails a pragmatic choice in what goals drive a particular use of the replete data of the TMP map. Likewise, the mutable and micro-macro combination functions inherent in the map hold practical consequences for any use of the map. To keep with the important example of urbanization, to understand the transformation in politics and society during the late Miccoatl and early Tlamimilolpa phase, we must look to the materialization of the ciudadela. Chronological data will indicate general construction periods and suggest the transfer of political or administrative power to the ‘palaces’ adjacent to the Temple of the Feathered Serpent. But it will be necessary to look to the more detailed, smaller scale map of Sugiyama (Figure 4.5 lower right) matched to the TMP map. With the more than 200 burials noted and an indication of construction sequences (as well as looted burials and tunnels noted) on the map, Sugiyama (2005) could make the bold assertions that the ciudadela was a cohesive continuation of (instead of representing a break with) the ‘master plan’ for the city’s development. Indeed, so much more detail is afforded that significant patterns in the burial complexes could be recognized, and the number of individuals mapped in each complex might even suggest an astronomical association (the rising and setting phases of Venus) of the temple (and possibly the ciudadela as a whole), further supporting a legitimation based in Mesoamerican cosmogony for the founding of the city and its unique constructions. None of this would take place without moving attention, via the mutability of the TMP map, from the macro detail of the ciudadela on this map to the ever more micro detail of Sugiyama’s map.

A consequence of all of is that the TMP map is, quite contrary to the crisscrossed appearance of its analog and static lines, fluid. It allows fluid engagement in the actual practice of using it in conjunction with research questions, through the qualities its form and content. It is a mercurial map for the pragmatic goals of inquiry. This mercurial quality of the map means that it is only really useful with regard to the specific goals a researcher or heritage manager brings to it. Basic parameters can quickly be gleaned by glancing at the map, such as an overall impression of a highly urbanized and planned metropolis afforded by extension, density and orientation of the denoted structures. But it is this incredible flexibility of the TMP map with which to be employed in formulating more specific questions and directing research agendas. These goals give animation to the intricate composition of the map.

So even if the various arguments for representational realism were mustered, they would only convince us of the admirable intentions of the TMP members to consistently employ cartographically proven techniques. The large logical step necessary to claim a veracity of the map by recourse to the cartographic methods employed has already been argued to be problematic in Chapter 3. As presented, these arguments tend to get us nowhere and they are (and will be) endlessly debated. More importantly, rather than continuing to dig in this (endless) epistemological trench, I think it is better to re-frame the question altogether. Veracity, or a trust in the results visualized by these most important of media, should come from their pragmatic usefulness in contributing to specific research goals. Not be mistook for criticizing this valuable map and the veracity of equally significant maps, I am not arguing that the TMP map is in any way poor, or misconceived, or flawed. I am simply stating that we ought to forego a deeply ingrained predisposition to evaluate work by claiming it represents what ‘is really there’. Instead, moving from material to media can be ‘true’ because of what it allows us to do. And as Millon hoped, the TMP map has indeed allowed for the clarification of the understanding of Teotihuacan, has facilitated entire research foci (such as urbanization), and has generated an entire tradition of ever more refined and technologically sophisticated complementary mapping at the site. Though we normally give credence to the map as an achievement, a touchstone for archaeological mapping, it is the achievements made possible by the map as a beginning ‘baseline’ that contribute to its universal authority for Teotihuacan scholars. No other higher pragmatic commendation could be given to the accomplishment of the TMP than to note the impossibility of conducing research, coordinate civic planning, administering the zone, or managing relationships with the local populations at Teotihuacan without both starting from, and ending with, this map.

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