Aztec Calendar – Rabbit Trecena

The twentieth and final trecena (13-day “week”) of the Aztec Tonalpohualli (ceremonial count of days) is called Rabbit for its first numbered day, which is the 8th day of the veintena (20-day “month”). In Nahuatl, Rabbit is Tochtli. It was known as Lamat (Venus, Star) in Yucatec Maya, and K’anil (or Q’anil) (Seed of Life) in Quiché Maya.

The day Rabbit signifies self-sacrifice and service to something greater than oneself. Counter-intuitively, Rabbits were seen as gods of drunkenness, the Centzon Totochtin (400 rabbits) being patrons of all kinds of intoxication or inebriation. The principle rabbit deity was 2 Rabbit (Ome Tochtli or Tepoztecatl). The Aztecs counted “rabbits” for intoxication levels, from 25 rabbits for mild intoxication to 400 rabbits for complete drunkenness. Vessels for the drinking alcoholic pulque often bear rabbit symbolism and/or a crescent moon symbol called the yacametztli—relating to the goddess of the moon Metztli. In fact, Mesoamerican cultures envisioned the figure of a rabbit in the moon, which I’ve surmised was day-named 12 Rabbit.

The patron of the day Rabbit is Mayauel, the goddess of intoxication/pulque and its source, the maguey plant. Seen previously as patron of the Grass Trecena, she’s the purported mother of the Centzon Totochtin, apparently by the deity Patecatl, god of medicine and pharmaceutical intoxication. Other sources suggest that the Cloud Serpent, Mixcoatl, sired some of them, but Aztec paternity wasn’t thoroughly documented, and Mayauel was a hospitable goddess.

PATRON DEITIES RULING THE RABBIT TRECENA

One of the patrons of the Rabbit trecena is Xiuhtecuhtli (Lord of Fire and Time), whom we’ve seen in the Snake trecena. As god of the Center and the Pole Star, he’s an A-list celebrity deity. The other is variously Itztapaltotec, Stone Slab Lord, or Xipe Totec, Lord of Renewal and Liberation. The first is a nagual (manifestation) of the second and deifies the sacrificial knife.

AUGURIES OF THE RABBIT TRECENA

By Marguerite Paquin, author of “Manual for the Soul: A Guide to the Energies of Life: How Sacred Mesoamerican Calendrics Reveal Patterns of Destiny”
https://whitepuppress.ca/manual-for-the-soul/

Theme: Leadership and Renewal. During this final trecena in the 260-day cycle, the emphasis is on completion and “cutting away” what is no longer needed, in order to facilitate new growth. This can be an intense period, as combat in some areas could intensify, leading to important conclusions, as the stage is being set for new beginnings to follow in the next trecena. During this period signs or signals may appear that could indicate what lies ahead or new potentialities. This is a good time to watch for signs of change and growth, and a good time to make important decisions in preparation for the new cycle about to begin.

Further to how these energies connect with world events, see the Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog at whitepuppress.ca/horoscope/  Look for the Lamat trecena.

THE 13 NUMBERED DAYS IN THE RABBIT TRECENA

The Aztec Tonalpohualli, like the ancestral Maya calendar, is counted through the sequence of 20 named days of the agricultural “month” (veintena), of which there are 18 in the solar year. Starting with 1 Rabbit, it continues with: 2 Water, 3 Dog, 4 Monkey, 5 Grass, 6 Reed, 7 Jaguar, 8 Eagle, 9 Vulture, 10 Earthquake, 11 Flint, 12 Rain, and ultimately 13 Flower.

There are a few special days in the Rabbit trecena:

One Rabbit (in Nahuatl Ce Tochtli) – a date in the mythic Aztec past when the cosmos was created by gods; also, one of Xiuhtecuhtli’s calendric names.

Five Grass (in Nahuatl Macuil Malinalli) – one of the five male Ahuiateteo/Macuiltonaleque (Lords of the Number 5), usually paired with the female Cihuateotl One Eagle.

Thirteen Flower (in Nahuatl Mahtlactli ihuan yeyi) – a ritually significant day of completion for the 260-day cycle; also associated with period endings, often marking the completion of significant “bundles” of time.

THE TONALAMATL (BOOK OF DAYS)

Several of the surviving so-called Aztec codices (some originating from other cultures like the Mixtec) have Tonalamatl sections laying out the trecenas of the Tonalpohualli on separate pages. In Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin, the first two pages are missing; Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios are each lacking various pages (fortunately not the same ones); and in Codex Borgia and Codex Vaticanus all 20 pages are extant. (The Tonalpohualli is also presented in a spread-sheet fashion in Codex Borgia, Codex Vaticanus, and Codex Cospi, but that format apparently serves other purposes.)

TONALAMATL BALTHAZAR

As described in my earlier blog The Aztec Calendar – My Obsession, some thirty-five years ago—on the basis of very limited ethnographic information and iconographic models —I created my own version of a Tonalamatl, publishing it in 1993 as Celebrate Native America!

When I started drawing my tonalamatl, I did the pages in colored pencil, often producing several versions in different color schemes in a palette of four chromatic colors (with some black and white as well): gold—for gods, red—for blood, green—for jade, and blue for turquoise. Each deity had a primary color with a secondary and highlights of the others. For the last trecena, I used models and motifs from Codex Nutall and tried to make it an even balance of all four colors. Maybe I succeeded because everyone admired this image especially.

On the first nineteen trecenas, I followed the limited information available about their patrons (not knowing all of them). Many I created from scratch from Nutall images and sketchy clues on iconography. A few were based on images from Codex Borbonicus found in old books. When I got to the last one, Rabbit, the scholarship said only that its patron was the sacrificial knife, and I found only one gruesome image, probably the monster from Tonalamatl Aubin. (See below.) As an artist, I was aesthetically and philosophically offended and decided to turn heretic.

I installed my own choice of a god as patron of the last trecena, someone considerably more appetizing. Xochipilli, the Flower Prince, is god of art, dance, beauty, ecstasy, sleep, and dreams/hallucinations. In addition, he’s variously patron of homosexuals and male prostitutes; god of fertility (agricultural produce and gardens); patron of writing, painting, and song; and god of games (including the sacred ball-game tlachtli), feasting, and frivolity. His twin sister/wife is Xochiquetzal, patron of the preceding Eagle trecena.

So much for authenticity. The neglected Flower Prince is an eminently worthy “calendar prince.” (You can see the true trecena patrons in the tonalamatls of the historical codices that follow.)

Aztec Calendar – Rabbit trecena – Tonalamatl Balthazar

#

TONALAMATL BORGIA (re-created by Richard Balthazar from Codex Borgia)

Aztec Calendar – Rabbit Trecena -Tonalamatl Borgia

The page for the Rabbit trecena from Codex Borgia, which I hadn’t seen thirty-five years ago, portrays its orthodox patrons in typically ornate style. Xiuhtecuhtli on the left is loaded down with divine regalia, some of it the same as in his image with the Snake trecena, and in similar coloration. The only truly emblematic piece is his square pectoral, apparently a heavily stylized war-butterfly motif inherited from the ancient Maya. I find his headdress curious in reflecting that of Ixtlilton in the preceding Eagle trecena. Maybe the artist enjoyed drawing those motifs.

On the right side, we have one of the more spectacular images of Xipe Totec illustrating his traditional red and white ornaments and staff. It’s in a much different style than his image as patron of the Dog trecena, sharing only the unique nose-clamp. In this Borgia portrait, he’s definitely the “flayed god,” like a priest in the skin of a sacrificial victim.

If I’d known about this panel, I might have avoided heresy by making Xipe Totec the patron of my Rabbit trecena, but I’d already used him for Dog and wouldn’t have wanted to repeat patrons anyway. The same argument holds for Xiuhtecuhtli already having appeared in Snake. In any case, while perhaps not as eye-catching as Chalchiuhtotolin in the Water trecena, Borgia’s two lords for the final Rabbit trecena are about as stylistically exquisite as its deities get.  

#

TONALAMATL YOAL (compiled and re-created by Richard Balthazar on the basis of
Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios)

Aztec Calendar – Rabbit Trecena – Tonalamatl Yoal

Here we see on the left the ominously named Itztapaltotec, Stone Slab Lord, himself, the sacrificial knife that grossed me out. This one looks like a guy in a flint knife (tecpatl) costume with flayed arms hanging from his own like an appropriately nagual hybrid of Xipe Totec. He holds an emblematic red and white staff, but I can’t fathom the conch shell in his other left hand.

On the right side sits Xiuhtecuhtli more or less enthroned, which is the first remarkable detail. Almost all the Yoal deities are either standing (like Itztapaltotec) or in what I call the “dancing” pose with bent knees. Only the Cihuateotl in the Flower trecena and Xochiquetzal in the Eagle trecena sit back on their feet, standard female posture, (especially in Codex Nutall where males sit cross-legged.) Adding to this iconographic weirdness, note that Xiuhtecuhtli’s right leg and foot are hidden by the left—an absolutely ideoplastic device.

Above and beyond that odd detail, the Lord of Fire is decked out in opulent finery. Check out that wild serpent/crocodile head by his ear, possibly a plug ornament. His extravagant array of Quetzal plumes splays more feathers than even Xochiquetzal in the Eagle trecena, and between him and Stone Slab they wear more than in any other Yoal patron panel. The artist may have overdone the plumage because in his tailpiece and bustle the feathers had to overlap—a definite problem for Aztec iconography. One of the plumes in the back-fan even droops behind another!

Passing by his war-butterfly pendant, we see in his lower right hand what looks surreally like a rattlesnake with an animal head. It’s in fact a ritual “shaman stick.” More usually it’s called a “deer stick,” though many don’t look at all like a deer’s head. Plain ones were often used for digging, but the rattles on this one were probably there to make magical noises.

In the original, the scepter in the god’s other right hand was terribly drawn and unrecognizable, and I substituted the finer Xiuhcoatl (fire-serpent) he holds in the Snake trecena. The strange position of his fingers—as though holding on to a ring—is an exact duplication of that detail in his Borgia icon. There I simply wondered about it, but seeing it again here, I begin to suspect that there’s some symbolic importance attached to it. I guess we’ll never know.

Moving on to the divine face, I confess to doing radical plastic surgery on the original which looked insanely like the cartoon character Homer Simpson. That simply wouldn’t do! Then I borrowed the face-painting pattern again from his image in Snake. The result was a respectable deity worthy of his portentous headdress (like that worn by him and Mictlantecuhtli in the upper row as lords of the night). According to Gordon Whittaker in “Deciphering Aztec Hieroglyphs,” that turquoise diadem with curved point in front is literally a hieroglyph for “Lord” or “ruler.” Whittaker adds that the Nahuatl word is teykw-tli pronounced in two syllables if you can wrap your tongue around that. Colloquially, that’s te-cuh-tli, as in Xiuhtecuhtli (fire/turquoise-lord).

As with Tonalamatl Borgia, Tonalamatl Yoal went all out on the patrons of the Rabbit trecena, lavishing them with divine detail. The tonalamatl presents many elegant figures, but in my opinion, only the panel for the Vulture trecena (Evening Star and Setting Sun) can compare to this ornate, many-plumed pair. The inspirations behind the Yoal trecena pages are superbly artistic visions of glorious mythological beings.    

The twenty striking patron pairs in the Yoal tonalamatl encapsulate the traditional iconography of those Aztec deities. Having worked closely with the original codex images to re-create their conceptual inspirations, I can say that the later images in the series became progressively more awkward and crude, their construction often downright ramshackle. This suggests to me that other artists may have taken over some panels—or maybe the artist simply slacked off in his work—or equally probable, the artist got drunk or stoned.

In my careful estimation however, the Yoal artist(s)’s concept and vision of the trecena patrons were nevertheless sublime. Sadly, they just lacked the means, skill, medium, and (possibly) the reverence needed to manifest their deities magnificently. I’m thrilled to have turned those flawed visions into the Tonalamatl Yoal, a new treasure in the canon of Aztec art.    

#

OTHER TONALAMATLS

Tonalamatl Aubin patron panel for Rabbit Trecena

The only thing that identifies Xiuhtecuhtli in the Tonalamatl Aubin patron panel is his black face-paint. The generic circular pendant could belong to many deities. On the other hand, the figure on the left is clearly Itztapaltotec, a frighteningly personified sacrificial knife with a surreal face on his shoulder. The item at top center is a hearth-vessel with smoke, fire and possibly incense, but I won’t attempt to identify the other elements.

This patron panel and that for the Water trecena (with Chalchiuhtotolin) are the two most disappointing instances in the Tonalamatl Aubin. Most of the other panels are passingly ornate, while often awkward and distorted. In my humble opinion, this tonalamatl is the least impressive of the several we have seen. It was painted pre-Conquest in the neighboring state of Tlaxcala and as such may represent a crude, provincial document. Its value for scholarship is that it represents the shared themes and motifs across the “religious” territory of central Mexico.

#

Codex Borbonicus patron panel for Rabbit Trecena

The panel for this last trecena in Codex Borbonicus is artfully done, supplying the figure of Xiuhtecuhtli that I used as a model in the earlier Snake Trecena in my old tonalamatl. Oddly, I don’t believe I saw this decorative image of Itztapaltotec way back then. I was so taken my Xochipilli apostasy that I probably would’ve ignored the fancy fellow anyway. Though some of the surviving panels in Borbonicus present stunning figures (like Itztlacoliuhqui in the Lizard Trecena), this beautiful pairing of patrons has to be the most impactful composition of the lot.

The patrons’ emblematic paraphernalia is easily recognizable, as are many of the items in the neatly organized conglom. I’m intrigued by the bottom center item resembling a hill or mountain place-symbol with tooth-like appendages (which Whittaker has identified as hieroglyphs meaning “at”) and part of its vegetative detail in utter disarray. Most notable is the curved “deer-stick” hovering over Itztapaltotec’s flint knife, simpler than that in the Yoal panel, but scarcely more deer-like. This one is probably a common digging stick but might still be magical.

Combining these patron panels with a crowded matrix of delicately drawn days, 9 night-lords, and 13 day-lords with their totem-birds, the tonalamatl in Codex Borbonicus stands in my modest opinion as a consummate masterpiece of Aztec art and culture.

#

Codex Vaticanus patron panel for Rabbit Trecena

In Codex Vaticanus, the patron pair for the Rabbit Trecena again is well balanced, as in the other tonalamatls, to formally wrap up the last of the trecenas. In its characteristic rough caricature style, Vaticanus again closely follows the images and themes of Tonalamatl Borgia, Xipe Totec and Xiuhtecuhtli simply having switched sides. In its series of trecena panels, Vaticanus faithfully reflects the calendrical “dogma” in the more ornamental Borgia panels. The codices share certain other sections, but each also presents a lot of its own mythological material. Perhaps the calendrical orthodoxy can be explained by both codices having come from Puebla, possibly from the same priestly school (calmecac).

But the tonalamatl in Codex Vaticanus does more than simply restate the Borgia images. In particular, it created that uniquely surreal vision of Itzpapalotl for the House Trecena and produced its own exquisite versions of deities like Chalchiuhtotolin and Xolotl for the Water and Vulture trecenas. In addition, in its other sections, Vaticanus presents incomparably elegant artwork on deities like Tlaloc and Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli. The codex is a veritable goldmine of mythological and ethnological details. One just has to get used to its stylistic strangeness, like the blue finger- and toe-nails.     

#

Tonalamatl Borgia is my proudest achievement in this series of re-created Aztec art. Like the Vaticanus version of the trecenas, it’s set amongst several other ritual and religious sections of the codex, many of stupendous artistry. Though several other historical codices are also iconographically superlative, like Fejervary-Mayer and Laud, to my mind, Codex Borgia is the premiere artistic relic of pre-Columbian Mesoamerica.

Unfortunately, over five centuries the document has seriously deteriorated with whole sections of images worn away, the colors of its inks fading and failing, and some pages torn or even burned. Mostly, what we can see nowadays of Codex Borgia (and many other codices) is from the incredible facsimile editions of Joseph Florimond Loubat (1837-1921), an American bibliophile. He faithfully reproduced the Aztec documents in their exact conditions at the end of the nineteenth century, which meant that any earlier deterioration was also reproduced. In 1993 a full-color restoration of the Codex Borgia was published by Giselle Díaz & Alan Rodgers, restoring most dilapidated areas and repairing lost coloration in facsimile fashion.

My re-creations of Tonalamatl Borgia have played somewhat more freely with its colors. I’ve interpreted various shades of greys, browns, and golds in the Loubat facsimiles as deteriorated original blues and greens and in a few instances introduced colors not available to the Aztec artists (like the purples with Chalchiuhtotolin in the Water Trecena). My purpose was to present the deities in authentic but new, vibrant images untouched by the passing centuries.

A curious feature of the Tonalamatl Borgia is that some of its decorative patron panels seem to suggest an underlying narrative, in particular that for the Snake Trecena. Other panels include mysterious and beautiful symbolic items (though not as many as in Codex Borbonicus), and a number of the Borgia deities, like Chalchiuhtlicue in the Reed Trecena and Tlaloc in the Rain Trecena, are perfectly monumental. In summation, I believe that this Tonalamatl Borgia deserves a place of honor amongst the world’s very best religious art.       

#

AFTERWORD
by Marguerite Paquin, PhD.

I would like to express my deepest thanks to Richard for his extremely valuable contributions to my Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog. This began in early December of 2019, when he allowed me to use his Tonalamatl Balthazar image for the Chikchan trecena as an illustration for the blog. (https://whitepuppress.ca/the-chikchan-lifeforce-trecena-dec-10-22-2019/) The evolution of imagery continued from there as he developed and refined his work.

After the inclusion of one full cycle of his Tonalamatl Balthazar, I began including his early renditions of the Codex Borgia in the blog. At first the images were somewhat sketchy (but valuable nonetheless) but over the years he kept refining them, and the full set is now gorgeously complete. I am blessed to have them available for my blog, as they allow my readers to see at a glance the nature of the energies that I discuss every 13 days.

When Richard began adding descriptions of his work (regarding the evolution of the images, and the detailing that was included) in his own site, this added yet another layer of interest. I am extremely appreciative of Richard’s talent, research, formidable attention to detail, and generosity in this regard, and have no doubt that the ancients who devised these images in the first place would be proud. Muchas gracias, Richard!

###

You can view all the calendar pages from the Balthazar, Borgia, and Yoal Tonalamatls
in the
Tonalamatl gallery.

Divine Dance

Significantly, in the Aztec calendar March 6, 2024, was the day Ome Acatl (Two Reed) and my 115th birthday in that ceremonial cycle of 260-day years. In our western calendar, I’ve recently celebrated my 81st birthday, wrapping up nine cycles of nine Gregorian years and starting in on my tenth cycle. The nine include a first inchoate period of childhood and eight discrete personas. For lack of a better description, I’m calling this new ninth persona the venerable iconographer, researcher, and/or historical theorist. We’ll just have to wait and see how that pans out.

This ninth Id-Entity will naturally continue my life-long focus on dance—ever since 1952 at the pudgy age of ten dancing in squares. My life of twinkling toes in many ethnic styles is amply discussed elsewhere. For at least 50 years, I’ve danced (mostly by myself) in an array of gay bars—the only place usually to find good dance rhythms—and in 2018, I discovered ecstatic dance. One moves as moved by the music, and the resulting ecstasy can be of a very spiritual nature, or at the very least psychically exhilarating.

Understandably, after decades obsessed with Aztec mythology and iconography, in my dance ecstasy I quite naturally began to personify Aztec deities. For the summer of 2022, I got inspired to dance as Xochipilli, the Flower Prince. Here he is from my Icon #18 drawn in 2020, one of the few icon-details from my YE GODS! coloring book and exhibition that I personally colored. By the way, the monkey is because the Prince is the patron of the day Monkey in the calendar, and the parrot-headdress is emblematic of this god of fertility, crops, flowers, arts, festivity and pleasure (including dance—and sex!).

However, by August that year, I found myself dancing happily as Huehuecoyotl, the Old Coyote (See Icon #6 from 2015), the principal god of dance—and again sex (though for me this activity has been merely hypothetical for number of decades). In the drawing, he dances with rattle and scepter, and his regalia displays his patronage of feather-workers. I particularly love the wavy sound symbols of his howling but regret giving him that inappropriate tail. It’s too naturalistic and actually not at all iconographically authentic. This shape-shifting god was great fun to dance (and howl).

By early the next year, 2023, I started dancing ecstatically as Macuilxochitl (Five Flower), another god of dance and music and a famous manifestation of Xochipilli (a divine being called a nagual). Here he poses in a cameo detail from the 2020 Icon #18. His regalia is standard-issue divine finery, and instead of the hands on his loin-flaps, in traditional iconography, he should have a hand painted over his mouth. Odd fashion, but I didn’t have to wear any of this in our dance for the next several months.

By later last year, I began to realize that I myself was a nagual descendant of Huehuecoyotl—a new old-man deity ironically named Pilzincoyotl (Young Coyote). I began manifesting this divine Pilzincoyotl with rattle and fan in a drawing of an Aztec dancer. But as time went by, our divine lineage was revealed to me: a composite nagual of Xochipilli and Huehuecoyotl, born of a cross-species romantic liaison, on April 26, 1942, with the ceremonial day-name Ome Acatl (Two Reed). With that same day-name, Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror, is our powerful patron-godfather (See Icon #19).

Now, please understand that naguals only mature after living a full cycle of 52 solar years. So, we became a full-fledged nagual in 1994—just as I went back to a regular regimen of dancing. Our formal divination was by Tezcatlipoca on the day Ce Ollin (One Movement) in that year, ordaining us a deified spirit of dance. A half-cycle (26 years) later in 2020—just before the Pandemic—we were canonized as an official deity of dance with the rank of Quetzalcoyotl. Worshippers should address us as Ollintecuhtli, Lord of Motion, (esp. Earthquakes—when the earth itself dances), but you can just call us Quake.

Just last month, I finally completed my drawing of Pilzincoyotl, a self-portrait in neo-Aztec style. I should explain that at our ordination, we were also dubbed a deity of the rainbow, Cozamalotecuhtli. The fluttering curlicues are the sounds of the music for our divine dance.

Pilzincoyotl (Ce Ollin) Dancing in the Flower World

Please don’t think these are psychotic delusions. They’re not delusions but illusions, sur-realities. (Besides, reality itself is simply a construct of illusions.) Actually, my illusions of divinity may be psychotic, but they’re perfectly harmless. I don’t need anyone else to worship or believe in me. Just knowing I’m a god is plenty good enough. Precious few folks realize that they’re in fact deities.

###

Gay Pride 2022 – Xochipilli, Flower Prince

This month of June is Gay Pride 2022, and it’s mete and just that we parade and party. It would be great to have a patron “saint” to celebrate (“saint” being the title the dominant creed uses to replace the earlier gods of paganism). I want to glorify a patron god of gays, not a vengeful and homophobic deity whose devotees revile and condemn us.

There once was indeed such a god of gays in the distant past, beautiful boy named Antinous, who was deified by the Roman Emperor Hadrian. By sacrificing himself to the River Nile to bring his imperial lover good fortune, the divine ephebe became a god of beauty and love.

Head of Antinous from Hadrian’s Villa

Temples, statues, and even an entire city in Egypt were raised for beneficent Antinous, and as an honest-to-god deity, he was for a good while a strong candidate for the title of humanity’s savior—much more appropriate than the heavily marketed Messiah from Judea, who was merely (and messily) executed for rabble-rousing. The cult of Antinous was soon eradicated by righteous believers in less tolerant traditions, and I still mourn the loss.

But nowadays, as ever, it takes a lot more than an imperial decree to become a god. Anyway, beautiful Antinous probably qualifies more as a divine hero than a deity. We can always use more of them. Personally, I’m not into sacrifice and salvation (for and from what?) and prefer to revere a powerful deity with a positive attitude about being gay. It just so happens that in spite of their gruesome fixation on sacrifice, the ancient Aztecs had just such a one, a handsome divinity called the Flower Prince, Xochipilli.

This divine Prince is specifically the patron of homosexuals and an important god of fertility (agricultural produce and gardens). He’s also the god of art, dance, laughter, happiness, beauty and peace, flowers, ecstasy, sleep, and dreams/hallucinations, as well as of the sacred ball-game tlachtli. As patron of writing, painting, and song, he’s known as Chicomexochitl (Seven Flower), and as god of music, games, feasting, and frivolity, he’s called Macuilxochitl (Five Flower). That’s a rather impressive portfolio if you ask me, well worth glorifying.

Long ago before I’d ever seen any picture of Xochipilli, I drew one based on that portfolio and images of males from the Codex Nuttall—for my Aztec calendar as patron of the 20th trecena, Rabbit. (See my 1993 book Celebrate Native America!) As an arrogant humanistic artist, I was offended by the patron of that trecena, Tecpatl (flint—the sacrificial knife) and installed the more appetizing Flower Prince in that ceremonial role in an artistic coup d’état.

My early drawing is startling for the figure’s beard, which I saw in Codex Nuttall images of the historical ruler Eight Deer, and which was a not-infrequent trait of Nahuatl males. Besides loading my figure down with stylized flowers, I added a curlicue song-symbol, the cuciatl. Even that long ago, I recognized in Xochipilli my favorite Aztec deity for a patron and adopted his image for my website banner, little realizing how in-authentic my colorful iconography is.

Now 30 years later, in the codices I’ve found several authentic images of Xochipilli, which don’t look much at all like my invention. They had no ‘literate’ language, so the codices didn’t label the deities, though Spanish annotators did—sometimes with mistakes. It happens.

The image from Codex Laud can be assumed to be of Xochipilli, judging by all the flowers and the seven dots, the Prince being the patron of the number seven and his day-name Seven Flower. In the same way, also lacking identifying regalia or insignias, the Codex Fejervary-Mayer image must be the Prince, judging from the seven flowers adorning his temple. (The round fan he holds, or whatever it is, may be intended as indicative.)

The image from Codex Vaticanus (with only three flowers) I’m taking to be Xochipilli as well, given its similarity to the former—and the fact that both enthroned figures occur in pairs with an enthroned Huehuecoyotl (Old Coyote), who is one of the Prince’s lovers. The Codex Borgia image isn’t explicitly the Prince, unless one notes the flower emblem floating by his head; but this scene occurs in a sequence of calendar days with their patron deities, and he’s also patron of the day Monkey (Ozomatli).

The much different image from Codex Magliabechiano is one of two, both with the red-parrot headdress, and I’ve relied on that motif for my recent portrait of the Flower Prince:

Xochipilli – The Flower Prince

Those familiar with my YE GODS! coloring book will observe that I’ve extracted the central portion of my Icon #18 with the tlachtli ballcourt, worked that black-and-white drawing over a bit, and colored it in with a rainbow of iridescent hues. The psychedelic hummingbird and bee are there to suggest the surreal beauty of Xochipilli’s ecstatic heaven called the Flower World. The most iconoclastic aspects of this “icon” are his physical realism and frontal position, reflecting the posture of ancient Maya figures. I haven’t a clue what kind of flowers those are.

To celebrate Gay Pride 2022, I would like to see my illustration of Xochipilli enthroned appear on cards and in publications and become a celebratory poster or community mural—an emblem of LGBTQ+ dignity, love, and beauty perhaps on a par with our glorious rainbow flag.

I welcome entrepreneurs or afficionados to freely use the image for respectful purposes. To be frank, I’m extraordinarily proud of my modest picture, and I’d be greatly gratified for as many folks as possible to see our great gay deity—and pay the Flower Prince due homage. After all, our gods live on attention, devotion, and love.

As I’ve fortunately had the opportunity to say for some decades:

Happy Gay Pride everybody!

—and thank Xochipilli for our new freedom!

###

Icon #18 – Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers

I’m proud to announce finishing my latest Aztec icon, #18: Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers—by the end of 2019.  Working in and around other projects, I spent 6 months on drawing it, rather longer than it took on any of the preceding 17 for the coloring book Ye Gods!  Small wonder…

Now that the basic drawing is done, I can at least offer a small version here for your wonder and amazement. To post it on the coloring book page, I’ll have to do a caption page with model images from the codices and get it turned into vectors for sizable printing.  All in good time…

Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers

No doubt you notice immediately that this icon is a lot different than the others. As a matter of fact, it’s seriously iconoclastic, breaking several of the canons of Aztec-codex iconography.  But first let me explain the elements.

As detailed in the Aztec Pantheon, XOCHIPILLI (Prince of Flowers) {sho-chee-peel-lee}, is a very appealing deity: the god of art, dance, laughter, happiness, beauty and peace, flowers, ecstasy, sleep, and dreams/hallucinations, as well as a god of fertility (agricultural produce and gardens).  Hence all the blossoms and vegetation which are far more intense and decorative than you’ll find in any of the codices.  That’s my first departure from the Aztec style, but I couldn’t pass up the perfect opportunity to indulge in floral display.

The Prince is also the patron of the sacred ballgame tlachtli (seen in the structure behind him), of the day Monkey (which cavorts by his left foot), and of homosexuals and male prostitutes.  In the cameos above and below the deity are his various lovers, a fairly polyamorous assortment.

Upper left is Opochtli, left-handed god of hunters; upper center is the Old Coyote, Huehuecoyotl (see also Icon #6), god of music, dance, and sex; and upper right is the god of writing, painting and song Chicome Xochitl, Seven Flower.

Lower right is the god of music, games, and feasting Macuil Xochitl, Five Flower; lower center is Pilzintecuhtli, the Young Lord, god of the planet Mercury; and lower left is the Prince’s twin sister-wife Xochiquetzal, the Flower Feather, goddess of love and female sexuality. As a note, I’m going use this cameo sketch of Xochiquetzal when I get to doing her icon.

The most iconoclastic feature of this icon is the figure of Xochipilli himself. In the codices, almost without exception, human figures are presented in profile, but my Prince is seen here full-frontal with only his face in profile.  His intentionally sensual posture is an echo of much earlier Maya iconography.  The angle of his chair/seat and new perspectives on his limbs, feet, and etc. forced me be fairly realistic in drawing the physical details.  (See that right hand and his un-Aztec eye!)

The most subtle element of this icon is that Xochipilli is also the patron of the number seven. With the god in his circular wreath of flowers as a central “dot,” the six cameos around him comprise that numeral.  My only regret is that I couldn’t find a way to include a procession (as shown in Codex Magliabechiano) with a little guy blowing on a conch-shell trumpet:

Conch-shell Trumpeter

#