Temporalities of the Formative Period Taraco Peninsula,Bolivia

Abstract

Within the last 15 years archaeologists have developed a ‘dwelling’ perspective in studies of prehistoric landscapes. This research takes a critical approach to time, highlighting the temporality of practices in both daily life and longer-term processes. In this article I investigate temporalities of the Middle (800–200 BC) and Late Formative (200 BC–AD 500) periods on the Taraco Peninsula (Bolivia), drawing on data produced by the Taraco Archaeological Project. Particular attention is paid to long-term landscape tempos, place-making and the intertwined rhythms of technical practice. I end with a brief discussion of the temporal changes that correspond with the urbanization processes seen at the Middle Horizon (AD 500–950) center of Tiwanaku.

Keywords

Andes Bolivia landscape temporality Tiwanaku

Introduction

Lake Titicaca is a place of sustenance and of memory. This sustenance was evident in the rhythms of the work that I saw in the village. The seasons dictated the tasks in the fields, and with the herds as well, since the cattle fed on grass on the hills above the village in the rainy season and on reeds from the lake in the dry season. The ability of the land and the lake to nourish human life was demonstrated to me at every meal … Equally evident was the centrality and immediacy of memory to the villagers … Indeed, many spots in the landscape were linked to memory. It seemed that for every hill, practically for every cliff or boulder, the villagers could recount a story of an event in the past. (Orlove, 2002: xix–xx)

In his 2002 book Lines in the Water, Ben Orlove beautifully conveys the distinct temporal elements of life in the Lake Titicaca Basin, exploring those rhythms familiar to many who have worked in the region. Orlove describes his search for an appropriate model for drawing readers into the stories of the fishermen of this high Andean lake region. Dissatisfied with simple forward moving narratives, he finds inspiration in two novels, Thoreau’s Walden and Williams’ Refuge, that embrace both the complexities and distinctiveness of such lacustrine places. While many ‘lake novels’ portray the lake as a backdrop or ‘destination’, Thoreau and Williams portray the lake as a ‘presence’, with the cycles and tempos central to the narrative (Orlove, 2002: xx–xxiii). These books convinced Orlove that a historically informed study need not be chronological in nature, directed his attention to the rhythms of the lake, and encouraged him to ‘listen to the Andean villagers’, particularly their experience of landscape (2002: xxvii). The result is a masterful work that traces out the interconnection of ecological tempos and daily habitual practice, highlights the place-making routines of Titicaca Basin inhabitants, and explores the social and political tensions that define a modern Bolivian landscape.

Archaeologists pay little attention to rhythms and relational forms of time in the Titicaca Basin, focusing instead on linear chronologies and partitioned time of archaeological periods. A brief sketch of this linear narrative might begin in the Middle Formative (800–200 BC) with the development of public architecture and an increasing population density in the region (Albarracin-Jordan, 1996; Bandy, 2001). Communities began to cultivate several important crops (Bruno and Whitehead, 2003; Chávez and Thompson, 2006) and some deployed raised fields in strategic efforts of intensification within growing political economies (Stanish, 2003: 134). These trends continued into the Late Formative (200 BC–AD 450), with villagers aggregating to several politically important central sites (Albarracin-Jordan, 1996; Bandy, 2001; Janusek and Kolata, 2004; Lemuz, 2001). By the end of the Late Formative Period large regions of the Southern Titicaca Basin were socially, politically, and economically associated with Tiwanaku. The Middle Horizon (AD 450–950) is defined by this densely populated urban center, which included the monumental Akapana mound and the Kalasasaya enclosure, high-quality ceramics, carved iconographic representations of elites and a complex raised field agricultural system (Janusek and Kolata, 2004; Protzen and Nair, 1997; Rivera Cassanovas, 2003).

This is a very simplified picture of decades of highly productive archaeological research, but it is accurate in the absence of interest in the varied rhythms that produced the landscape. I believe this steady, linear complexity narrative is unintentionally masking other temporalities inherent in Titicaca Basin landscapes. In this article I draw on several phenomenologically grounded ‘dwelling’ frameworks to develop an ‘archaeology of inhabitation’ for the Titicaca region (Barrett, 1999; Gillespie, 2008; Hutson, 2010). I explore the changing affordances of landscape and define shifting temporal reasonings throughout the chronological sequence, focusing on data produced by the Taraco Archaeological Project (TAP). Although TAP research is firmly embedded within the period/horizon temporal framework, the data discussed here demonstrate how a dwelling perspective renders time differently, and specifically 1) attends to the relationship between long-term rhythms of Lake Titicaca and the temporalities of habitual technical practices that contribute to ‘place-making’ in the region and 2) re-embeds particular technical practices into a wider lived landscape. I suggest that an ‘archaeology of inhabitation’ can reveal the diversity of rhythms that drew from and ultimately produced Lake Titicaca Basin landscapes.

Archaeologies of inhabitation: Place-making, temporalities and tasks

The landscape literature offers an important foundation for a study of the temporalities of the Titicaca Basin. Scholars have recently shifted their understanding of landscapes as the ‘neutral, binary relationship between people and nature’ or a Cartesian canvas for human action, to seeing them as meaning-laden and socially produced through experience, perception and imagination (Ashmore, 2002; Basso, 1996; Bender, 1993; Harvey, 1996; Knapp and Ashmore, 1999: 8; Lefebvre, 1991; Smith, 2003). Archaeologists are increasingly interested in studying ‘place-making’, those specific historical practices that constitute meaningful places (Bowser and Nieves Zedeno, 2009; Bradley, 2000; Kosiba, 2012). Landscapes are more than simply networks of places, and any analysis must consider both the movement between places and the temporality of these movements (Snead et al., 2009).

If landscapes are ‘time materialized’ (Bender, 2002: 103, see also Gosden, 1994; Lucas, 2005), then landscape studies benefit from a more nuanced understanding of the workings of time. Archaeologists working within evolutionary narratives, including those in the Titicaca Basin, rely on the ‘B-series’ of time (Gell, 1992; McTaggart, 1927). This empiricist and objectivist sense of time focuses on events that are ‘strung out in time like beads on a thread’ (Ingold, 1993: 157). In contrast, scholars developing a dwelling approach stress the varying tempos of prehistoric life while acknowledging that particular periodicities may link various forms of material practice. In this ‘A-series’ (Gell, 1992; McTaggart, 1927), time is relational rather than linear, and emerges in the passage and experience of events, inevitably blurring past, present and future.

Temporality, tempos and the rhythms of experienced social life are central to the A-series (Ingold, 1993: 158). Temporality refers to the interweaving of natural rhythms with the related tempos of human action across the landscape (1993: 157–161). Rhythms and tempos refer to the varying periodicities that define human experience (Gamble, 1999), practices that resonate with other living things and other ‘rhythmic phenomena’. These might include seasonal cycles and tides (Ingold, 1993), but also repeating ecological cycles that are longer than human lifespans yet also structure social process. Archaeologists have given less attention to the A-series. This is not due to empirical constraints or absence of particular forms of data, but rather because the A-series is less compatible with culture histories and the directional narratives of political development. Rhythms of the A-series appear in tandem with the material world, meaning that archaeologists can explore rhythms in a range of material locations (Barrett, 2004: 24).

An acknowledgement of the A-series of time presents new archaeological questions, as a number of temporal threads are sedimented in past landscapes. Some relatively unconscious rhythms of daily life are produced through daily technical practice. These forms of social time (Herzfeld, 1991) or habitual time (Gosden, 1994: 124–126) might be seen in the materialization of bodily practices such as ornamentation (Joyce, 2000: 9), but also in the temporal rhythms associated with the operational sequences of craft production. In contrast, monumental (Herzfeld, 1991) or public time (Gosden, 1994: 124–126) are inscribed for a greater public and a longer time scale (Joyce, 2000: 9). These temporalities may consist of the ‘conscious use and manipulation of materials, spaces and times’. Particular places on the larger landscape may thus serve as the ‘engines for the creation of time’ (Gosden and Lock, 1998: 6), creating a B-series time-map analogous to calendar systems (Gell, 1992: 290–293).

Archaeologists have also explored the relations between different temporalities. In some cases relatively non-discursive habitual bodily practices are drawn into public time, creating shared rhythms (Gell, 1992: 306–313; Joyce, 2000: 10). These entwined temporal rhythms, or harmonious time (Gosden, 1994: 126), may be found in the shared temporal rhythms of some domestic practices (Picazco, 1997). The material record may also reveal disjoint time, when rhythmic practices work against each other. Such moments may produce changes in greater temporal reasoning, and probably contributed to greater sociopolitical change, since temporal oppositions produce tensions, conflict or compromises (Gosden, 1994: 126).

Studies of the A-series still require the chronological scaffolding offered by ceramic seriations. Yet the temporalities of ceramics introduce some unique problems. Archaeologists are aware that ceramics change due to social and historical rhythms, yet the pragmatic need to construct narratives within cultural chronologies results in the homogenization of different rates of change, inadvertently compressing generations of important variability into a form of ‘fossilized’ time (McGlade, 1999: 143; Roddick and Hastorf, 2010). Ceramic chronologies are structured around the ‘stoppages’ (sensu Gosden, 2006: 431–438) in ceramic production, rather than the rhythms, flows and continuity of the A-series. Yet the patterns studied by ceramicists are the traces of generations of learned choices, habitual rhythms of embodied skills on a larger social landscape (Crown, 2007; Krause, 1985).

So how can archaeologists consider objects that are both the producers of rhythms and the result of rhythms, ultimately ‘objectify[ing] multiple strands of time’ (Cobb and Drake, 2008: 86)? How can researchers explore the A-series of ceramic production, to consider the temporal rhythms of this particular form of habitual practice while not losing sight of their relation to other types of temporalities, including place-making practices, on a larger social landscape? In other words, is an integrated archaeological exploration of temporality, embodied practices and inhabited landscapes possible?

Tim Ingold’s concept of the taskscape provides some possibilities. The taskscape refers to the ‘mutual interlocking’ of practical activities (carried out as part of day-to-day life) across the landscape (Ingold, 1993: 158). An archaeological study of the taskscape focuses on the rhythms of practices, including ‘making, building, using, discarding, hunting, gathering, plowing, grazing, exchanging’, all of which ‘sediment in places’ (Lazzari, 2006: 59). Ingold’s concept encompasses the interlocking nature of material practice, encouraging archaeologists to consider how particular tasks may have involved similar techniques and contributed to a shared rhythm. Archaeologists succumb to the ‘hegemony of the specialist’ (Lucas, 2001; Sillar, 2010), artificially separating material practices that many have worked within a harmonious temporality and together structuring social relations (Edmonds, 1999; Picazco, 1997; Sillar, 2010).

Taskscapes are also fields of learned skillful practices and movement once defined by social time (Ingold, 2000; Pálsson, 1994; Roddick, 2009: 52–97). Learning technical practices is not a decontextualized copying or the handing-down of skills over generations, but rather is about attending to features of the broader landscape and a process of apprenticeship into a taskscape. Gibson (1979: 254) has called this form of perception an education of attention (discussed in Ingold, 2000: 354). Gibson and Ingold argue that perception is always environmentally situated, and skilled practice is about becoming attuned to the nature and tempos of particular landscapes, and the affordances or properties of the environment that are perceived during situated activity. Simply put, ‘the perceptual system of the skilled practitioner resonates with the properties of the environment’ (Ingold, 2001: 142). This intimate connection between perceiving rhythms of the environment and learning new skills can play a key role in the production of new forms of both habitual and public time.

Mark Harris’ (1998, 2005) work with the Paruaro of the Amazon region is a wonderfully explicit study of the temporal rhythms and embodied practices of particular taskscapes. For the Paruaro, the Amazon River is not simply a backdrop to their lives, rather it is a core component in the constitution of their lives (Harris, 2005: 201). The Paruaro ‘achieve a degree of resonance with the rhythms of the dwelt-in environment’ (Harris, 1998: 79). Yet seasonality is ‘intrinsic’ not simply ‘implicit’, and inhabitants debate but also draw on the height of the river and the appearance of particular plants and animals to work within shifting seasonal and climatic rhythms (1998: 74–75). The particular long-term rhythms, which are defined by a lack of continuity from season to season and a rather dramatic variation in river height, mean that practices are not inscribed on the landscape. This results in unique constructions of social memory and particular ways for skills to develop (Harris, 2005: 198). Children develop skills, such as the techniques used to catch a diversity of fish, through an education of attention to the landscape and the seasonal rhythms.

Some dwelling approaches slip into a romantic, almost ahistorical sense of being-in-the-world (Bender, 2006: 306). Yet inhabitation in a landscape ‘empowers’, legitimizing actions according to frames of reference from the past, and it can lead to actions (sometimes violent actions) on others’ lives (Barrett, 1999: 259–260). Harris successfully traces the tempos and rhythms of dwelling while remaining aware of the relationship of skilled practices to power and history (Harris, 2005: 210–215). Harris argues that any study of taskscapes, temporalities and skillful practice requires attention to the complex social histories and the broader sociopolitical landscapes. For instance, Paruaro fishing skills appear as part of a complex colonial history, developing in tandem with Portuguese geopolitical interests (2005: 215). The evidence for shifting temporalities on the Taraco Peninsula is also suggestive of prehistoric power dynamics and efforts at social control, and it is to this archaeological case study I now turn.

Taskscapes of the southern Lake Titicaca Basin Formative Period rhythms

The Taraco Peninsula is a jut of land in the southern Lake Titicaca Basin, which extends into the smaller part of the lake known as Lake Wiñaymarka (Figure 1). Since the early 1990s the Taraco Archaeological Project (TAP) has been investigating processes of the Formative Period at Chiripa (Bandy and Hastorf, 2007; Hastorf, 1999), and more recently at Kala Uyuni, Kumi Kipa and Sonaji (Figure 2). This research offers several evocative temporal threads, particularly those related to longer-term rhythms of Lake Titicaca, shifting temporal reasonings and embodied technical practice.

Figure 1.

The Lake Titicaca Basin, with box showing the southern Lake Titicaca Basin. A) The Taraco Peninsula, B) Tiwanaku, C) Ccapia, D) Lake Wiñaymarka (image on right adapted from a map created by Arik Ohstad).

Figure 2.

The Taraco Peninsula showing sites excavated by the Taraco Archaeological Project.

Some of the most compelling data on the Taraco Peninsula’s changing rhythms of life have been produced by TAP palaeoethnobotanists and zooarchaeologists (Bruno, 2008; Bruno and Whitehead, 2003; Capriles et al., 2008; Moore et al., 1999; Whitehead, 2007). This research has included ethnographic research into how modern cultivation practices resonate with seasonal rhythms and how they are entwined with other tasks such as fishing and herding (Bruno, 2008). This work has found that Lake Titicaca is a strong orienting element for those living in the region today, and suggests that the rhythms of the lake and particular tasks likely constituted prehistoric temporalities. As Orlove (2002: 177) found for Titicaca Basin inhabitants in general, inhabitants on the Taraco Peninsula attend to the rhythms of the lake levels, particularly for totora reed planting, much like seashore inhabitants attend to the tides.

Lake Wiñaymarka is particularly dynamic through time, both in the short term and the longer term. Water levels of this shallow lake fluctuate seasonally, with normal seasonal cycles exposing and submerging up to 10 meters of land. Today, Taraco villagers move towards the lake following the appearance of new fertile areas (Bruno, 2008). Some years, when the impact of the El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO) is strong, require a different working rhythm with the lake. During such years there is a drop in precipitation in the altiplano, affecting the flow from springs and permanent water sources to irrigate land. This results in a shortened growing season and a reduction in crop yields (Calaway, 2005; Orlove et al., 2002; Whitehead, 2007). Longer spells of wet or dry years produce more dramatic results. For instance, in 1945 and again in 1985 the lake levels increased 5 meters in depth over today’s measurements (Roche et al., 1991). These historic events demonstrate that lacustrine temporal rhythms were more than simply seasonal, but could also vary over decades.

Multiple generations of the Formative Period inhabitant on the Taraco Peninsula would have lived through even more dramatic lake level shifts than those of the last century. Crosscutting our archaeological phases are several long dry and wet spells that would have completely dried up Lake Wiñayamarca and then, in turn, submerged the modern lakeshore (Figure 4). In the earliest Formative phases the lake was at 50 percent of its modern size (Whitehead, 2007: 26–30), during the Middle Formative there were some slight fluctuations, and by the Late Middle Formative the lake shrank dramatically and revealed a great deal of land. Many archaeological sites from this period are probably now underwater (a point rarely explored in discussions of regional settlement patterns). The longest degree of ‘relative stability’ would have included the Late Middle Formative (800–450 BC) and Tiwanaku phases (AD 400–1100). The Late Formative would have been the most variable, with an increase from 250 BC to AD 100, a drop from AD 100–300, and an increase in the Late Formative 2 phase (Bandy, 2001: 185).

Figure 3.

Chronology for the Lake Titicaca Basin including regional horizons, lake level variations, Southern Basin archaeological periods and associated estimates of associated human scale generations for the archaeological phases discussed here.

Figure 4.

(a) Low lake levels as seen at the end of the Middle Formative, and (b) high lake levels as seen during Tiwanaku periods and modern periods (adapted from Whitehead, 2007: 29, Figure 2.8; and based on paleo-lake data from Abbott et al., 1997).

This variation would have had quite an effect on ancient biomes (Whitehead, 2007: 40), but also radically changed the nature of the taskscape (Figure 4). As Bandy points out for the Middle Formative dry spell, ‘the lake that the visitor sees today did not exist. In its place was an immense grassy plain, crossed by small, meandering rivers and dotted with marshes’ (2001: 137). The longer-term shifts in lake level would have potentially impacted economies and reoriented larger social temporalities. Bandy (2001, 2005) believes dry periods would have provided new affordances, including new traveling and trading options for camelid caravans across dry land. This focus on herding may have resulted in a shift in local fishing techniques during dry periods, a hypothesis supported by José Capriles’ (2006) zooarchaeological work on Formative Period fishing techniques (discussed below).

During wet years cultivated lands would have been inundated, potentially destroying the planted crops of a particular season. Longer-term wet spells would have affected which fields were cultivated as well as the very nature of the landscape. Much like the Paruaro discussed by Harris (1998), we can imagine the inhabitant, debating how to work with these shifting temporalities. The quote from Orlove in the introduction to this article demonstrates how centuries of dwelling contribute to the production of social memory. But the wet spells through the Formative Period may have inundated centuries of Middle Formative inhabitation, hiding a palimpsest of practices. And, again, like the Paruaro (Harris, 2005), such processes would have introduced lasting disjunctures in the social memories drawn upon by later inhabitants, and the particular meanings inhabitants drew from their ever-changing landscape. In other words, the rhythms of this landscape were neither external environmental constraints, nor passive temporal backdrops. They would have been a core component of social life.

Bruno (2008) has found evidence for increasing intensification throughout the Formative Period. An increase in weed species suggests the moving and manipulation of soil and the increase in taxa through the Formative suggests a diversification in production. The Formative Period on the Peninsula is the setting for the domestication of chenopods, the processing and consumption of tubers, and the management of totora (Bruno and Whitehead, 2003). Formative Period practices also resulted in the disappearance of other species, including woody plants. Whitehead (2007: 270) believes woody plants (currently not identified to species) appeared on the Taraco Peninsula along with an increase in precipitation between 3600 and 3400 BC, but the amount of wood at Chiripa drops dramatically by the Middle Formative, suggesting a process of deforestation. Specifically, it appears that the Middle Formative inhabitants (and their ancestors) decimated available wood resources, likely using it for fuel purposes (2007: 230–235), and unintentionally created the relatively treeless landscape of today.

Techniques on the taskscape

Taraco inhabitants produced the landscape visible today through their engagement on the taskscape, through the rhythms of both long-term regional environmental dynamics and across several generations of local practices. But were new educations of attention generated by these short and long-term climate rhythms? What was the relationship between practices and the shifting seasonal temporalities?

Orlove (2002: 140) offers an example of how the shifting rhythms of Lake Titicaca present new affordances and may have played a key role in the development of new skills. He discusses the widespread learning of gill net techniques after the introduction of trout to Lake Titicaca in the 1930s. The use of such nets eventually resulted in a harmonious sense of time (sensu Gosden, 1994: 126), with fishing practices aligning with seasons and shifting lake levels, but also introducing new experimentation. Some fisherman began to extend their taskscape farther from shore, while others introduced new temporal rhythms, embarking on overnight fishing trips in new wooden boats. Such experimentation (involving great risk) resulted in a new education of attention. Fisherman began to recognize, and name, wind patterns by the color patterns observed on the lake (Orlove, 2002: 145).

A similar process may have been occurring through the Formative Period. During the Early and Middle Formative a large diversity of fish were captured with fine gauge nets, weirs and baskets. By the onset of the Late Formative, when the lake levels were high again, inhabitants caught larger deep-water fish, suggesting the use of boats and nets during these wetter years (Capriles, 2006; Capriles et al., 2008). When the lake levels dropped again, later in the Late Formative phases, fishing practices would have been impacted. Capriles notes a drop in fish remains during these periods, but an increase in the density of bird remains recovered, suggesting the Taraco taskscape included the highly productive, marshy lakeshore. Capriles’ findings may indicate the emergence of new skills in fishing and hunting techniques along with these wet and dry cycles.

Titicaca archaeologists do not structure their temporal frameworks around changes in fishing technologies (although this temporal thread is worth following!), focusing instead on the shifting techniques of ceramic manufacture. TAP’s ceramic research on the Taraco Peninsula has involved ceramic attribute analysis, raw material survey, geochemistry and mineralogy (Roddick, 2009; Steadman, 2007). This research stresses the human lives and embodied practices across many generations, an approach that both builds chronologies and considers practiced temporalities. We have isolated changes that occurred between the Middle and Late Formative Periods, including subtle changes in form and reorientation of habitual, embodied rhythms such as forming and finishing techniques (Roddick and Hastorf, 2010: 164–167). These shifting techniques are providing an important chronological framework, highlighting subtle shifts across genealogies of practice and connections to a larger meaningful taskscape.

Yet pottery production is remarkably consistent throughout long spans of the Formative, centuries during which there were clearly processes of change afoot (Roddick and Hastorf, 2010). Comparison of Carbon-14 dates and ceramic attributes suggests that Late Formative production sequences may have changed at different rates in different regions (Roddick, 2009: 150–178; see Figure 3). This lack of precision and variability in chronometric and relative data means that we are uncertain whether some of the changes discussed above would have occurred within one generation’s lifetime or spilled across the lived experiences of several generations of inhabitants. This varying rate of change in ceramic technology may be more than simply a methodological frustration and hints at important variability in temporal rhythms, variation that may also have to do with different variations in learned practices.

Although investigations into wider geological variability are ongoing, my detailed study of materials from the Taraco Peninsula suggests that the social life of these household-level produced ceramics began on the local taskscape. I found a high density of residual clays, with bright iron oxide rich colors, eroding out of deep river cuts during a raw material survey of the peninsula (Roddick, 2009: 270–274; Roddick and Klarich, 2012: 104–106). Late Formative farmers would have encountered raw materials in a range of daily activities, particularly after wet rainy seasons. Taraco sites have high densities of the decorated Late Formative period diagnostics. These red-banded vessels are mineralogically and chemically similar to the local clays. The choice in design draws from the experienced landscape, with the banding probably replicating the local geological deposits of the clays themselves (Roddick, 2009: 271).

These highly plastic residual clays required inclusions to inhibit explosion and some of the most important changes across these genealogies of practice are found in changing paste recipes. While Middle Formative potters would temper their pots with ichu grass and sand, Late Formative ceramics are most often defined by the presence of micaceous sands and a compact paste peppered with white inclusions of volcanic ash (Roddick, 2009: 314; Roddick and Klarich, 2012: 105). My survey of the Peninsula found few cases of mica schists or volcanic ash. While it is, of course, possible that these sources have disappeared – perhaps within the significant lake level changes discussed above – we do have good evidence for at least some of the same tempering materials moving across the landscape (see Roddick, 2009: 316–320 for discussion of the movement of mica). The volcanic region of Ccapia is one intriguing possibility for the ash’s origin, an area that may have been a very important orienting element on the Taraco landscape, and a part of the travelled taskscape (Figure 1 and see below).

We have found little primary evidence for Formative period pottery production across the Titicaca Basin. But what if we consider that pottery production was likely well integrated with other agro-pastoral temporalities and across the wider taskscape? Andean pottery production, for instance, is embedded in the seasonal rhythms of other technological choices and productive practices such as the agricultural or pastoral cycle. It is common to find tool kits appropriate for both farming and potting needs (Hagstrum, 1989: 84–91; Sillar, 2010). Many Titicaca scholars have argued that stone hoes (Figure 5), which are diagnostic for the Formative Period, are evidence for agricultural intensification (Bandy, 2001). However, these hoes were probably used for other purposes, including digging out clay for pottery and architecture. TAP excavations have uncovered bone and re-purposed ceramic sherd scraper tools, in association with other domestic production including spindle whorls and several small jars likely used for preparing paints and slips (Figure 5). These tools were all found on hard clay surfaces outside of architectural spaces. Some of the bone scrapers manufactured from the ilium and scapula of camelids had clay minerals lodged into the working edge (Moore, in press). Other scrapers manufactured from the mandibles of camelids had tuber starch grains embedded in their edges, suggesting their use in food production (Logan, 2006: 57; as discussed in Moore, in press), but may also been used in pottery production.

Figure 5.

Kala Uyuni artifacts from a Late Formative taskscape: smoothing tools (a–c), complete and spindle whorl blanks (d), miniature jar for pigment and slips (e), flared bowl (f) and stone hoe (g).

Other evidence points to more direct integration of techniques across the Taraco Peninsula. My detailed microanalysis and geochemical analysis of the materials used as floor surfaces in Formative Period architecture suggests that the clay used for surfacing public architecture was accessed from similar sources (Roddick, 2009). This sediment, like clay recipes, was tempered to resist damp and bioturbation. Micromorphologist Melissa Goodman-Elgar and her students have found fascinating evidence for changing tempering techniques for flooring materials throughout the Formative Periods, choices that mirror those made in ceramic manufacture. While early clay floors were mixed with ichu grass, later floors were prepared using clay and sand. Eventually, surfaces were primarily chosen for color, likely visiting the same colorful clay deposits mined for ceramic manufacture (Goodman-Elgar et al., 2010). So the choices in material preparation for periodic resurfacing of architectural and pottery production were probably entangled in common technical choices from a common taskscape.

Harnessing time on the Taraco Peninsula

Landscapes are drawn upon to plan for the future, to structure the temporalities of practices, and to structure social memories of the past. Modern farmers on the Taraco Peninsula employ a range of techniques to predict weather patterns and to schedule planting, drawing on traditional practice as well as modern techniques (Bruno, 2008: 187). Orlove has found that farmers predict dry El Niño years based on affordances from their taskscape, including the patterns in lake levels, the location of bird nests, the calls of particular animals and the relative brightness of the Pleiades (Orlove, 2002: 223). This last practice involves an elaborate ritualized system of observations based around the relative brightness of this star cluster: if the Pleiades are particularly dim, farmers will postpone planting potato seeds by several weeks. Such ‘education of attention’ goes back at least several centuries, and may be associated with Inca practices (Orlove et al., 2002: 435).

It is unclear whether these specific techniques were practiced during the Formative Periods in the Titicaca Basin. However, there is evidence for the use of predictive strategies that drew upon features of the natural landscape and the built environment. Mounded and sunken public architecture became more dominant in the region throughout the Formative, ‘giving pattern to some of the rhythms of life’ (Gosden, 1994: 127). Leo Benitez’s (in press) recent archaeoastronomical research finds that Formative Taraco architecture (at Chiripa in the Middle Formative and Kala Uyuni during the Late Formative) is aligned with the ethnographic and ethnohistorical sacred volcanic peak of Ccapia. Such architectural alignments with historically sacred peaks are seen elsewhere in the region (Benitez, 2009; Janusek, 2006, 2008). The placement of the public architecture is aligned with 6 May and 18 August sunsets over the peak of Ccapia, corresponding with a traditional harvest period in the Titicaca Basin. Benitez’s data suggest that placement of these structures 10 or 20 meters in any direction would shift them off this alignment. If this is the source of raw materials for Formative Period potting, then this was indeed an important location on the taskscape.

Benitez’s work suggests that public architecture of the Formative Period created an education of attention and a new reckoning of time. There were likely a number of habitual temporalities involving movement through the taskscape, but the orientation of public architecture created a monumental time that reduced ‘social experience to collective predictability’ (Herzfeld, 1991: 10, quoted in Joyce, 1998: 160). The alignment of the architecture materialized the social time of a specific taskscape. The orientation of the architecture may have been a core component of a new temporality, tuning Formative Period communities to the interrelated rhythms of seasons and tasks such as planting and harvesting. The political impact of such a shift to monumental time was probably a key element of emerging religio-political practices and institutions of the Formative period (Janusek, 2006). And the discovery of a decapitated individual within the floor of a Middle Formative sunken court at Kala Uyuni suggests a particular sociology of control associated with these places (Cohen and Roddick, 2007).

Archaeologists in a number of contexts have suggested that the architecture, of both domestic and public structures, can reveal a range of temporal rhythms (Boivin, 2000; Dillehay, 2004; Scattolin et al., 2009). In some parts of the Andes, architecture is a key element of monumental time. Modern Aymara house constructions are conducted in harmonious time with the larger agricultural cycle, linking newly married couples to the larger community (Arnold, 1992). In some cases the house serves as a temporal marker, mnemonically representing the social memories of the dead (Arnold, 1992: 36–38). TAP’s excavations of the main mound complex at Chiripa, the Monticulo, revealed a complex series of burning events dated between 550 BC and 380 BC. Bandy (1998) suggests these eight burning cycles were associated with generational succession every 20 years or so. It may be that this ritualized burning represents a form of public time, linking to a broader social memory of the ancestors (Roddick and Hastorf, 2010).

Middle Horizon taskscapes

Sometime around AD 500 Tiwanaku increased dramatically in size, becoming more than simply another Late Formative site and marking the beginning of the Middle Horizon in the Titicaca Basin. Survey data suggest that Taraco villagers were drawn towards the urban center of Tiwanaku by the early sixth century AD (Bandy, 2001; see also Albarracin-Jordan, 1996). While we have very little other data on daily life on the Taraco Peninsula during these later Tiwanaku phases, ongoing analysis suggests both continuities in practices and some important changes in particular aspects of earlier taskscapes. Although further ceramic analysis and radiocarbon dates are needed to refine the chronological shift from the Late Formative to the Middle Horizon, we do have archaeological data on Tiwanaku temporalities.

Our evidence for the Middle Horizon across the Titicaca Basin relies on the products of highly skilled specialists producing a standardized suite of ceramic forms. Changes in pottery production occurred gradually over several generations, but by the mid sixth century ceramic production appears to have been a more specialized task. Excavations at Tiwanaku have revealed ceramic production neighborhoods and new manufacturing techniques for producing modeled and molded standardized forms (Rivera Cassanovas, 2003). This evidence hints at newly learned skills and a new rhythm in the manufacture of ceramics. Molding represented a disjuncture in the genealogy of practice, and workshop production suggests a different type of situated learning (potentially with a new segmentation of tasks) and a distinct taskscape. Future research may elucidate further the relationship between the highly canonic Tiwanaku vessels and their relationship to habitual embodied time, public temporalities and larger seasonal cycles.

Some shifts in temporality were in tempo with changing seasonal rhythms, likely introducing new affordances. Climate research suggests that Tiwanaku phases see several centuries of relatively high precipitation, resulting in high lake levels and a productive lake margin for several centuries (Figure 4). Research in and around Tiwanaku suggests the intensification of public forms of time around this same period. Inhabitants of the urban center began to represent seasonal temporalities in a more overt manner. Architectural alignments shift from the important local peaks to the recreated peaks within the ceremonial core and defined celestial movements. Benitez (2009) argues that the Kalasasaya enclosure appropriated the alignments of Ccapia, shifting centuries of temporal grounding from the volcanic peak. This would have had an enormous impact on inhabitants of the Taraco Peninsula, who for generations had been seeking temporal grounding (and presumably particular agents mobilizing political control) from this volcanic peak.

Benitez (2009) believes that eleven andesite pillars in a western wall of the Kalasasaya defined 30-day periods of setting suns, with the central pillar marking the equinox. Between these pillars is a sequence of points for lunar observations that permit the annual calendar to be synchronized. Benitez (2009) suggests that the architectural alignment, and the famous sculpted iconography of the gateway of the sun, together served as a ‘state calendar to anticipate universal seasonal change precisely and to unify the rural populations under a centralized calendar’.

If the architecture of the urban center represents the imposition of a new temporality on the landscape, it also represents continuity with previous practices. Hiking up the eastern side of the Akapana gives a clear view of Ccapia as well as other important mountains of the Quimsachata mountain range (Janusek, 2008: 130). Alan Kolata has argued persuasively that the Akapana was ‘the sacred mountain of Tiwanaku’ (2003: 186). The Akapana may be a case of mountain mimesis, acting as an icon and index to Quimsachata in a similar way as the Formative potters who reproduced natural clay banding in their pottery decoration. The builders used construction techniques to make the Akapana look like a terraced mountain, and the water was channeled to replicate water movement in the mountains, ‘pooling, dropping out of sight, gushing onto terraces, emerging at the foot of the mound’ (2003: 187). Recent excavations into the middle of the Akapana revealed many layers of clay brought in from the countryside. No mineralogical or geochemical analysis has been performed on these clays or Tiwanaku phase pottery, so it is not yet possible to ascertain whether techniques were shared across the taskscape. However, the builders are drawing on a landscape of meaning constituted during the Formative Period, indexing important local mountains through the use of andesite, blue stones and clay mined from their hillsides (Janusek, 2008; Kolata, 2003).

Raised agricultural fields, which are present in the earlier Formative Period, become extensive during this period (Figure 6). These fields have been key in debates about the organization of labor and Titicaca Basin political landscapes. Some argue for local level, small-scale organization (Erickson, 2000), while others suggest they were deployed from the ‘top-down’ (Stanish, 1994; discussed in Jansusek and Kolata, 2004). Bandy (2005) circumnavigates these well-worn debates, and stresses the temporal element of these agricultural projects. Raised fields may have permitted a staggered agricultural cycle, allowing surplus to be produced for the state while local communities maintained their earlier Formative Period subsistence schedule. Thus the public time that defined Tiwanaku included temporalities structured around agricultural practices, bringing people together for working the large fields, and in essence developing a new form of temporal reasoning (Barrett, 2004: 23–34). Future research might examine whether such staggering generated disjoint temporalities, or whether it permitted local agricultural cycles to work in harmony with state projects. Studies of new state temporalities could also examine their effect on fishing practices, as Orlove (2002: 138) has done for the modern Titicaca Basin.¹ It may be that scheduling on the lake was a continuity of earlier Formative period practices, but also contributed to an increasingly power-laden taskscape of the Middle Horizon.

Figure 6.

A Middle Horizon form of temporal reasoning? A reconstructed raised field outside the modern town of Tiwanaku. The Proyecto Wila Jawira reconstructed these agricultural systems in the late 1980s under the direction of Alan Kolata.

Conclusions

This article has suggested that past landscapes are the entanglements of a relatively untidy articulation of temporalities. I have considered several A-series temporal threads while exploring the taskscape, or the ‘collapsed’ pattern of activities (sensu Ingold, 1993: 162), of the southern Lake Titicaca Basin. This study suggests that the centuries of the Formative Period are defined, in great part, by habitual time. Some practices, such as the collection of wood for fuel use over many generations, may have had a radical impact on the landscape. Other habitual embodied practices resulted in shared techniques across the taskscape, as seen in the shared changes in technological choices in ceramic tempering and architectural flooring. However, there were also significant changes in other types of temporalities. Long-term precipitation patterns resulted in shifts in lake levels, in some cases with dramatic effects on the taskscape. Future work would benefit from a more detailed consideration of the tempo of these changes. Did inhabitants really experience these changes, or did they occur gradually over several generations? These climatological temporalities would have impacted social memories and contributed to the development of other types of skillful practice such as fishing and herding.

It also appears there are diachronic shifts in ‘temporal reasoning’. Temporalities of cultivation are key in the South Central Andes today and were probably fundamental elements of new temporal reasoning in Formative Period taskscapes. The form of habitual time associated with agricultural practice was eventually converted, at some point during the Formative Period, into a form of monumental time. By the Middle Horizon the rhythms of cultivation appear to have been represented as (and likely abstracted into) a regional temporality, and potentially manipulated for control of raised field systems. Another form of temporality draws from the topography of the landscape. Mountains play a prominent, if historically dynamic, point of reference in Andean societies (Bastien, 1978; Gose, 2006). Monumental, public time appears to draw from the prominent peak of Ccapia during the Middle Formative, and builders of Formative Period architecture (and perhaps Late Formative potters) referenced this peak. By the Tiwanaku periods, this peak, along with those from the nearby Quimsachata range, become co-opted by inhabitants of the Middle Horizon urban center.

The Taraco Peninsula case study highlights a significant advantage of ‘archaeologies of inhabitation’. This approach generates important new questions concerning time, which may be explored by drawing on a range of data sets. An approach to prehistoric taskscapes and temporalities certainly requires chronological control, but a consideration of the A-series means working beyond ‘fossilized time’, encouraging us to ‘tune in’ to the presence of different temporalities on the landscape, and to re-integrate shared temporal practices. Gosden (1994: 125) has provocatively suggested that there are as many temporalities as there are practices, but it is the interrelations between particular temporalities (short- and long-term, ‘natural’ and ‘social’) and the shifts in temporal logics that are particularly significant. A dwelling approach, and specifically an ‘archaeology of inhabitation’, is particularly well-suited for defining these interrelations and emerging temporal reasonings.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to all members of the Taraco Archaeological Project, in particular Maria Bruno, José Capriles, Melissa Goodman-Elgar, Christine Hastorf, Kate Moore, Lee Steadman and Bill Whitehead, who all shared findings and offered valuable feedback. This article was greatly improved through the feedback from Mary Weismantel and two anonymous reviewers. The article also benefitted from conversations with many friends and colleagues, including Dan Contreras, Peter Johansen, Steve Kosiba, Quentin Mackie and Ed Swenson. Any mistakes are, of course, my own.

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author declares that there is no conflict of interest.

Funding

The work on the Taraco Peninsula and my own research were supported by two research grants from the National Science Foundation.

Note

Author Biography

Andrew P. Roddick is an Assistant Professor of Anthropology at McMaster University, and director of the Laboratory for Interdisciplinary Research in Archaeological Ceramics (LIRAC). For the past 10 years he has conducted research into the Formative Period of the South Central Andes. Roddick’s interests include theories of situated practice and learning, commensality, landscape archaeology and the biography of things. His current research in the Lake Titicaca Basin is investigating craft production prior to the emergence of the Tiwanaku polity, the changes in learned technical practices produced across the Basin with the appearance of the large urban center. He is also initiating ceramic ethnoarchaeological work in two Aymara potting communities.

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