The Red Queen of Palenque

I made my first pilgrimage to the Maya ruins of Palenque in 1995. It is one of the most powerful and remarkable places I have ever been. Like a golden luminous jewel, the ancient city of Palenque perches above the lush tropical rainforest in the foothills of the Chiapas Highlands of southern Mexico. Shrouded in morning jungle mists and echoing to a dawn chorus of howler monkeys and parrots, this temple city has a serene, mystical atmosphere. Tranquil spring-fed streams meander through the city and the temple summits offer spectacular views of the ruins and surrounding jungle. Flourishing in the seventh century, Palenque is an architectural masterpiece of unsurpassed beauty and spiritual force.
 

In 1994, archaeologists discovered a hidden tomb in one of Palenque's small temple pyramids. The skeletal remains of a woman, identified as Lady Tz'akbu Ajaw, were still lying in her limestone sarcophagus. Her skeleton was covered and surrounded by a large collection of jade and pearl objects, bone needles and shells, which were originally pieces of necklaces, earspools and wristlets. The funeral assemblage of Lady Tz'akbu Ajaw, nicknamed the Red Queen because she was found covered in red cinnabar, is one of the richest known burials of a female Maya ruler. Embellished with jewels, gold, turquoise and jade, the tomb dates from about 600 A.D.
 

The Red Queen's ornate tomb was discovered in Temple XIII, next to the imposing Temple of the Inscriptions, where her husband and king, K'inich Janahb' Pakal, was entombed wearing a mosaic jade death mask and elaborate jade jewelry. Her malachite funerary mask echoes his jade version. She also wore a headdress ornamented with shell eyes and fangs, probably representing a deity, and a collar of multicolored stone and shell beads. Some archaeologists believe that the cinnabar covering her body and accompanying ornaments symbolizes blood, and thus life, and may have been instrumental in helping the Red Queen travel to the afterworld.

The Huichol Mask

An excerpt from my soon-to-be released memoir, Riding Spirit Horse: A Journey into Shamanism. Copyright © 2021 by Michael Drake.
 

I made my first pilgrimage to the Maya pyramids and ceremonial centers of Mexico in March of 1995. It was an empowering, transformational journey of self-discovery--the culmination of a lifelong dream to explore the pyramidal temples found at Chichen Itza, Uxmal, Palenque and Tulum. I spent about a week in Playa del Carmen, a coastal resort town along the Yucatan Peninsula’s Riviera Maya strip of Caribbean shoreline. The Riviera Maya is known for its palm-lined beaches and one of the largest coral reefs in the world. The beaches of Playa del Carmen are famous for their white powdery sand and crystal clear turquoise waters.
 

One afternoon, I went shopping for some gifts and souvenirs to take back home with me. While walking along Quinta Avenida (5th Avenue), a pedestrian-only walkway through downtown Playa del Carmen, I discovered a colorfully dressed street vendor selling his beadwork. He was a Huichol indigenous artist from Guadalajara. The Huichol, or peyote people, are known for their yarn paintings and papier-mache masks covered in small, brightly colored beads. Yarn paintings consist of commercial yarn pressed into boards coated with wax and resin and are derived from a ceremonial tablet called a neirika.
 

The beaded art is a relatively new innovation and is crafted using glass, plastic or metal beads pressed onto a wooden or papier-mache form covered in beeswax. Common bead art forms include masks, bowls and figurines. Like all Huichol art, the bead work depicts the prominent patterns and symbols featured in Huichol shamanic traditions. The most common motifs are related to the three most important elements in Huichol religion, the deer, corn and peyote. The first two are important as primary sources of food, and the last is valued for its psychoactive properties. Eating the peyote cactus is at the heart of the tribe's spiritual knowledge and core to their existence, connecting them to their ancestors and guardian spirits through psychedelic visions.  

Huichol masks are akin to mirrors that reflect the patterns of face paintings worn during sacred ceremonies. The Huichol people understand themselves to be mirrors of the gods. The Huichol believe that you must look past the ego reflected in a mirror in order to enter the place they call the "original times," before the present separation occurred between matter and spirit, between life and death, between the natural and the supernatural, and between the sexes. They are a culture based on being at one with the Cosmos. The very purpose of life is to reach a state of unity and continuity between man, nature, society and the supernatural.
 

The shaman-artist had some small beaded masks displayed on his table. I asked him if he had any larger masks. He pulled a bundle out from under the table and unwrapped a beautiful life-size human mask. The intricate design featured a radiant sun on the forehead, a stalk of blue corn on each side of the head, a double-headed peyote eagle on each cheek, a prayer arrow on the ridge of the nose, and a deer on the chin. I asked him how much? He said 300 pesos, or about 50 dollars. We settled on the price, but the artisan needed to finish the beadwork. He asked if I could come back later in the day. I agreed to return later that evening to buy the mask and continued shopping other vendors.
 

With great anticipation, I returned in the evening to purchase the finished mask. As I carried the mask back to my hotel, it felt warmer and warmer until it was hot in my hands. When I got back to my room, I noticed a tepo or sacred drum (which is the voice of the gods for the Huichol) in the mouth of the mask. The symbolism was a metaphor for a "talking drum," the name I chose for my entrepreneurial publishing company. This meaningful synchronicity convinced me that the mask was meant for me. I later discovered that wearing the mask during meditation induces a blissful state of unity consciousness with the deities that the mask both represents and embodies. It’s a way of communing with the essence of these deities, channeling them to deepen shamanic trance, to honor them and more. To learn more, read my blog post, The Power of Masks.

Beau Dick: The Legendary Indigenous Woodcarver

Beau Dick was a Canadian art legend and enigmatic carver from Alert Bay, a small remote village on the Northwest Coast of British Columbia. The Kwakwaka'wakw artist was a heredity chief and cultural activist whose generous and prolific nature exemplified the spirit of potlatch (a gift-giving feast). His remarkable masks have been celebrated across the global art scene as vibrant expressions of West Coast Indigenous culture and a sophisticated crossover into the contemporary art world. Dick had an unprecedented ability to tap into the collective memory of his people and breathe new life into age-old traditions.

Born Benjamin Kerry Dick in Kingcome Inlet, British Columbia in 1955, he first learned the art of traditional woodcarving from his father and grandfather at the age of six. While his carving career began as an assistant to his family in creating totem poles, one of which remains among the world's tallest, Dick's calling lay in making masks. His talent for combining traditional Indigenous techniques with contemporary influences, such as Japanese anime and Mexican art, makes him a standout in the art world, with critics citing him as "one of the most important artists since contact."

The late carver is the subject of the acclaimed 2017 documentary film "Maker of Monsters: The Extraordinary Life of Beau Dick," which follows his life, career and activism. Written, directed, and produced by curator, author, and filmmaker LaTiesha Fazakas and Natalie Boll, the film gives an intimate look into the life of one of Canada's greatest artists. Beau Dick worked within an ancient tradition and rose to the ranks of international success within the world of contemporary art while never forgetting his roots. This moving film captures the essence of Beau Dick and his mysterious enigma as an artist who symbolized Canada's history with the First Nations and the ethical dilemmas faced in reconciling with that colonialist history. Beau was able to use his celebrity to call attention to the injustices done to his people and the environment. 

Even in his activism, Beau relied on his culture to inform him on how to be political. He didn't simply stage protests; he enacted ancient ceremonies, creating a public display infused with spirituality. He challenged the Canadian government on his own terms by using traditional Kwakwaka'wakw political protocol, with slight adjustments for the contemporary situation. He performed a traditional copper-breaking ceremony to shame the Canadian government on two occasions. First, on the steps of the Parliament Building in Victoria, BC, and then one year later on the steps of Parliament Hill in Ottawa. Striking stone against metal, Dick and his entourage broke large copper shields into pieces. They placed the copper fragments in a folded piece of canvas artwork and left it on the steps.

The copper-breaking ceremony is a spiritual and political act that had not been performed in over 100 years. The ritual was a call to action in dialogue with the Indigenous grassroots movement, Idle No More, and a revival of a shaming rite prohibited for over 60 years under the Indian Act. Copper-breaking was once practiced by First Nations across the Pacific Northwest. Endowed with supernatural power, copper occupies a central position within potlatch ceremonies. Since copper was highly valuable and expensive, breaking it represented an act of shaming someone after a breach of law or protocol. 

"Maker of Monsters" illuminates a man whose art and life continue to transcend expectations and boundaries. Beau was more than an artist. He was a leader, an activist, a teacher, a humanitarian and a virtuoso who was larger than life. When he was asked what gets him excited in the world, he thought for a moment, then answered, "Creating an opportunity for somebody else to do something." Watch "Maker of Monsters" on Tubi TV.

The Power of Masks

Rainbow Man

Across time and culture, masks have served to imbue power, transform identity, and connect people with each other and with their sense of the divine and the spiritual. The shaman uses a mask to communicate with or take on the identity of an animal spirit or helping spirit. During a performance, a shaman would seek the help of or take the identity of the spirit -- sometimes changing identities several times throughout by changing masks. In communal ritual, masks are used as part of a broader social function to achieve a benefit for the group. Masks are also an important aspect of storytelling, whether an oral tradition or a theatrical performance. For many cultures, these uses are fluid and intermingled.

The "Rainbow Man" mask featured in this post is a shamanic mask that I crafted twenty years ago. I wear it when holding ecstatic body postures. Specific body postures reappear in the art and artifacts of world cultures, even those widely separated by time and distance. Anthropologists discovered that people who assume these yoga-like postures report strikingly similar trance experiences. The first time I tried a trance posture, I got a clear image in my mind of how I should craft a mask of my face, paint it, and use it in my shamanic work. Wearing the mask enhances my trance experiences.

Shamanic mask making is a very ancient art of bringing out your inner or spirit self and embodying it into a mask form. Crafting a spirit mask of your face can be a very empowering process -- one that enables you to see into the deeper realms of the self. The process reconnects you with your deepest core values and your highest vision of who you are and why you are here. Summoning the energy of the true self, you then channel your discoveries into painting and adorning your mask of personal transformation. 

Yup'ik Shaman Masks

For many generations the Yup'ik (real) people of Alaska have created beautifully expressive masks for their traditional dances and ceremonies. Over the long winter darkness, dances and storytelling took place in the qasgiq (communal men's house) using these masks to honor and connect to the beings that made life possible in the Arctic environment. The masks were said to have made the unseen world visible. Masked dancing was once at the heart of Yup'ik spiritual and social life. It was a bridge between the ancient and the new, the living and the dead and a person's own power and the greater powers of the unseen world.

Many of the masks were visual representations of the shaman's journeys into the spirit world and often portrayed spirit helpers. The shaman either carved the masks himself or directed their carving. Masks were carved from driftwood collected on the shores and painted with natural pigments. The symbolic meaning of color varies with the creator of the mask and the story he or she is relating. Recurring colors include red which may sometimes symbolize life, blood, or give protection to the mask's wearer; black which sometimes represents death or the afterlife; and white which sometimes can mean living or winter. Painted spots appear on many masks and even on some participants. They represent snowflakes, stars, or eyes, depending on the mask's story. As in healing, the artist's touch may have been as significant as the mark left behind.

Masks were decorated with teeth, beads, animal hides, feathers and other organic materials related to the story being portrayed. They differ in size from forehead and finger 'maskettes' to enormous constructions that dancers need external supports to perform with. Ingenious theatrical devices were created and hung from the roof of the communal house, and beautiful costumes were sewn, all as part of a complex enactment of sacred stories.

After Christian contact in the late nineteenth century, masked dancing was suppressed, and today it is not practiced as it was before in the Yup'ik villages. However, the art of making masks is once again making its way into the traditional lifestyles of the Yup'ik. The elders are trying to get the young people involved and it's still a work in progress, but the revival of mask making is a hopeful story of Yup'ik continuity.