Megan Meyer

Megan Meyer (she/her) is a recent graduate of Virginia Commonwealth University, where she completed undergraduate degrees in Graphic Design and Art History. Her research explores the post-colonial featherwork mosaics of modern-day Mexico, contextualizing the forcible transformation and hybridization of art from New Spain. Her passion for art history drives her graphic design practice in creating work with rich subject matters through many diverse processes. Her personal ethos is to approach all scholarly and creative pursuits with equal parts ambition, attention to detail, integrity, and joy.

Post-Colonial Aztec Feather Mosaics

Introduction

Pre-colonial Aztec featherwork, also known as plumería or amantecayotl, was an important art tradition practiced throughout the region now known as Mexico long before the arrival of Spanish conquistadors in Mesoamerica in 1519.[1] Highly skilled indigenous feather artists constructed their mosaics by arranging fragments of both common and precious feathers to create their delicate compositions on ceremonial and venerated objects. Feathers, within the indigenous Nahua culture, represented a bridge between holy and secular worlds, carrying profound cultural and religious significance.[2] With the arrival of Spanish colonists and the introduction of Catholicism to the “New World” in the 16th century, indigenous practices were severely restricted in efforts to Hispanicize the newly controlled region and people of present-day Mexico. Despite the new European reign, the creation of amantecayotl continued. However, native artists were forced to depict Christian scenes and stories rather than indigenous imagery.[3] This essay contextualizes the forcible transformation and hybridity of feather mosaics from the 16th century Viceregal period of New Spain, focusing on examples of indigenous resistance to this reform. Amantecas, or native feather artists, incorporated their own visual traditions in their mosaics, and from an iconographic perspective, these pieces bear traces of cultural identity not only from Spain, but from the Aztec people. Post-colonial feather mosaics were executed by indigenous artists who introduced nuance, originality, and pre-Hispanic iconography to their Westernized feather paintings. By asserting a Nahua visual identity into their new Christianized feather mosaics, native artists contributed to a third culture– rooted in originality, resistance, and ultimately, European and indigenous cultural hybridity.

Pre-Colonial Aztec Feathers and Feather Mosaics

Birds and their colorful plumage had significant social and cultural value within the lives of many living in the Aztec Empire.[4] In terms of their symbolic value, feathers represented wealth, abundance, strength, beauty, fertility, and signaled the divinity of those who used them.[5] Feathers had practical uses as well as sacred roles: they distinguished noblemen, stabilized arrows, applied medicinal salves, and in the case of non-precious feathers, decorated common objects. They were valuable items of exchange and served as a source of economy for the indigenous people and the imperial government.[6] In the early days of colonization, it was reported by Spanish conquistadors that Montezuma’s aviaries resembled small palaces, and when Cortés first came to Tenochtitlan, he himself remarked on their splendor:

In this house there were rooms enough for two great princes with all their household. There were also ten pools in which were kept all the many and varied kinds of water bird found in these parts, all of them domesticated. For the sea birds there were pools of salt water, and for river fowl of fresh water, which was emptied from time to time for cleaning and filled again from the aqueducts. Each species of bird was fed with the food which it eats when wild, so that those which eat fish were given fish, and those which eat worms, worms, and those which eat maize or smaller grain were likewise given those things. And I assure Your Highness that the birds which eat only fish were given 250 pounds each day, which were taken from the salt lake. There were three hundred men in charge of these birds who knew no other trade, as there were others who were skilled only in healing sick birds.[7]

The Aztec people had developed a wealth of empirical knowledge on birds– their behaviors, ecosystems, and of course, their plumage.

Along with commercial value, iridescent feathers were also considered important to the indigenous society for religious purposes. According to Aztec beliefs, birds were sacred animals capable of transcending the terrestrial realm, personifying that which is holy and sacred.[8] For these reasons, birds were also ritualistically sacrificed for ceremonial purposes, along with humans and other religiously significant animals. Feathers reflected upon the sacred realm and were divinely associated with some of the highest deities of the Aztec pantheon.[9] Quetzalcoatl – the god of the morning and evening star, closely associated with death and resurrection – assumed the form of a feathered serpent. In the Nahuatl language, coatl translates to “snake,” while quetzalli refers to the long tail feathers of the highly venerated Resplendent Quetzal bird.[10] Huitzilopochtli, the god of the sun and war, was often represented as an eagle or hummingbird. His name in Nahuatl translates to “Hummingbird of the South.” The Aztecs believed that fallen warriors were reincarnated in the afterlife, transforming into hummingbirds. Therefore, Huitzilopochtli was the reincarnated hummingbird of the South.[11] Birds appear in many religious stories in Mesoamerica as well. One central foundational myth recounts the decision to establish Tenochtitlan as the capital of the Aztec Empire. According to legend, under the instruction of Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec people wandered the lands until sighting an eagle perched on a prickly pear cactus devouring a snake– imagery which makes up Mexico’s coat of arms today.

Feathers were also an important medium for artists in the Aztec Empire, as they were highly valued for their resplendent and iridescent qualities. Within the pages of the Florentine Codex, an illustrated ethnographic research study conducted by the Spanish during the 16th century, there are numerous depictions of the pre-Hispanic amantecas engaged in their work.[12] The illustrations depict the procedures behind processing feathers. Amantecas, the residents of Amantla where most feather artists resided, drew their designs onto cotton-reinforced maguey paper, and layered beds of common feathers to create their base.[13] Using obsidian blades, the finer feather barbs were cut to size, arranged with tools made of bone, and secured to the base using orchid-based glues. Settlers were so astonished by the ingenuity and skill of the amantecas, Franciscan missionary and historian Gerónimo de Mendieta declared that anything the finest painter could create, the feather artist had mastered.[14] Feathers, as an extremely versatile medium, found extensive application in various ceremonial garments– adorning headdresses, capes, fans, arm bands, shields, robes, and other sacred and political items.[15]

Due to their sacred properties, feathers held significant importance and were used in religious ceremonies throughout Mesoamerica. One such example is the radiant headdress of Montezuma II, ninth emperor of the Aztec Empire. The headdress of Montezuma was made mainly from iridescent quetzal tail-feathers.[16] Iridescence was especially characteristic of the quetzal, with its shimmering plumage appearing as blue or green, depending on the light and angle. When worn, the feathers were meant to shimmer in movement and light. The headdress is not only visually striking, but symbolically meaningful as well, encompassing intricate social, political, and spiritual significance that extends beyond our comprehension today.[17] This pre-Hispanic crown was likely sent to Europe from Mexico by Cortés himself. Today, the headdress can be found in the Weltmuseum Wien, an ethnology museum in Vienna.[18]

The Ahuizotl Feather Shield, created around 1500 C.E., is an example of a featherwork mosaic that predates Spanish colonization. The feathers that make up this piece came from the blue cotinga, scarlet macaw, yellow oriole, and rose spoonbill.[19] Construction of the shield features intertwined reed mats, hide edges, wooden sticks, leather straps, and reflective gold leaf. The coyote deity, subject of the Ahuizotl Feather Shield, was thought to be a protector on the battlefield in Aztec mythology.[20] Similarly to the feather headdress of Montezuma II, the shield was ceremonial, and would have been used by its owners in this context. Through movement, the iridescent feathers would have breathed life into the coyote figure. As the person wielding the shield moves, the light refracts in the feathers, creating a visual effect that illuminates and animates the subject of the coyote god. The Ahuizotl Feather Shield is the only surviving feather mosaic shield from the pre-Colonial era featuring a representational design.[21] Indigenous Aztec iconography can be seen in the piece, as it is both rich in symbolism and religiously influenced. The shield honors Aztec mythology, exemplifying vivid imagery of pre-Hispanic featherwork mosaics.

Colonization

The city of Tenochtitlan fell to Cortés and the Spanish colonists in May of 1521, marking the beginning of a colonial period in Mexico that would last three centuries. Following the conquest, countless featherwork mosaics were destroyed, as they bore symbols of Pagan influence.[22] Today, there are less than ten known pieces of indigenous, pre-Colonial Aztec featherwork remaining.[23] Along with the destruction of featherwork, the sacred aviaries of Montezuma were destroyed during the siege of Tenochtitlan.[24] Despite the conquest of the Aztec Empire, New Spain underwent a significant influx in its production of featherwork. The Spanish were so enamored by the delicate featherwork of the amanteca that the artistic production of amantecayotl was transformed to amplify the word of God. Under the instruction of Catholic missionaries, local artists were forced to shift their production to depict European scenes and stories, rather than indigenous ones. Over time, this art form attracted attention and created demand across Europe and as far as Asia, establishing feather mosaic production in the New World as a unique and distinctive entity.[25]

Just as these iridescent feathers communicated the connection between the sacred and the secular world of Aztec culture, they would similarly serve as an embodiment of divine light within a new Christian framework. Iridescent feathers, activated by light, were considered a unique material that challenged the notion of surface in artworks, conveying spiritual transcendence.[26] These properties of iridescence have the extraordinary capacity in art to personify what is sacred.[27] Layers of feathers work together to create a relief structure as thousands of tiny fibers bend and reflect light in all directions, evoking the qualities of divine transfiguration.[28] Luminosity within these feather mosaics served to bridge a gap between the natural and holy worlds within the Aztec context. While the luminous qualities of feathers in these mosaics once honored Aztec rulers and deities, they would now serve to glorify a Christian God. The resulting featherworks produced in the Viceroyalty of New Spain blended two entirely different pictorial worlds.[29]

Post-Colonial Featherwork

The visual language produced in the early days of the Viceroyalty of New Spain served a variety of purposes. The compulsory creation of Christian imagery by the hand of the native artist not only served a holy purpose but was also an effective device for religious conversion. Catholic missionaries of the Augustinian Order in particular were highly interested in combining indigenous and Christian imagery to create a shorthand that could quickly communicate the Christian religion to indigenous people, facilitating conversion.[30] Much of the visual imagery created during the early viceregal period considered indigenous belief systems through careful study of indigenous concepts that could help communicate and define Christian ideas, concepts, and motifs to Nahua people, while also emphasizing the authority of the church.[31] This idea of blending indigenous and Christian imagery together can be exemplified, for instance, in the biblical scenes of the Passion of Christ. The Crucifixion is narratively compelling and provided clear parallels to Nahua traditions of sacrifice, purification, and renewal.

The piece entitled the Bishop’s Featherwork Miter, from Michoacán, is one of seven surviving featherwork miters created by indigenous Aztec artists during the Spanish Colonial period.[32] Five of the seven feather miters display a similar composition, depicting scenes of the Passion of Christ. The last two feather miters depict the Tree of Jesse, interpreted from an engraving in the Book of Hours.[33] The Bishop’s Featherwork Miter includes the miter, or headpiece, and vimpa, the shawl typically worn by leaders of the church, such as the Bishop or Pope. Both miter and vimpa are filled with religious symbology, ornately depicting the Crucifixion of Jesus. These miters were extremely valuable in Europe, appreciated not only as the treasures of colonial conquest, but because of their uniqueness and natural rarity.[34] Feather mosaics were not only exoticized, but highly appreciated.

The subject of the Bishop’s Featherwork Miter depicts the interwoven letters of the holy initials of Mary and Christ. Included in the interior of the letterforms are scenes and characters from the Passion of the Christ as well as various Arma Christi, or instruments used during the Passion. Christ appears crucified in the central stem of the letter M, with Mother Mary praying on the left stem, with the holy lance and sponge below her. Mary is found on the right stem as well, with the ladder below also used for Jesus’ Deposition in a later scene. Evangelists and disciples can be found in the parallel stems of the letter H, to include the betrayer, Judas, and the denier, Peter.[35] At the highest point of the miter is God atop a bed of clouds, raising one hand in benediction while the other holds a golden cross. Directly below God, yet above the Crucifixion, flies a dove, amongst other various angels and heavenly figures. The vimpa is just as opulent, with curling botanical decorations that complement the chromatic scheme used in the miter.

The original source material for the subject of the feather miters, which illustrate scenes from the Passion, comes from a very specific devotional image from the late medieval period that portrays the Crucifixion of Christ through the interlacing of the holy initials of Mary and Christ.[36] The image, originally from France, was a print created in the form of a woodblock engraving that was circulated and reproduced across Europe. The print eventually made its way to New Spain, where it was replicated by indigenous artists in a series of five feather miters.[37] The original source material for many Christian feather mosaics created in New Spain were woodcut prints and engravings that were sent over to the viceroyalty, as they were far more accessible and affordable than paintings.

Two of the seven featherwork miters portray nearly identical imagery and symbols; one of which is in New York at the Hispanic Society of America. The other, gifted to Pope Paul IV, can now be found in Milan.[38] While these feature identical compositions that would have likely been based on the same original, the other three differ in key ways. Amantecas worked with the initial composition featuring the holy initials of Mary and Christ, while borrowing from other Christian imagery that had made its way from Europe to New Spain in the form of other identified engravings.[39] In some cases, information from the original holy initials composition was left out entirely to make room for other scenes within the narrative of Christ.

The scenes and instruments used in the Passion of Christ in the original woodcut print are displayed in chronological order, which tells a cohesive narrative of the crucifixion of Jesus.[40] The amantecas, however, use their own artistic license in the depiction of the arma christi, which appear to have been shifted around and moved out of their initial alignments to make way for new additions in the composition. The indigenous artists also experimented with what was depicted inside versus outside the letterforms of IHS and MA, inserting further originality to these images. Across these three feather miters, there are small idiosyncrasies and inserted scenes and elements that introduce cultural nuance to the design. These changes are noticeable and noteworthy and speak to the artists’ ability to adapt and expand upon the imagery they were receiving from Europe. Indigenous artists were creating new images and telling the story of Christ in their own way.

The two remaining feather miters that feature reproductions of the Tree of Jesse also break with their original source material from the Book of Hours in a few key ways. Along with their depictions of Christian iconography, the amantecas working on these miters introduced pre-Hispanic pictographic traditions as well.[41] For instance, rather than simply mimicking the European print, the feather workers deviated from their original source material to create a visual hybrid that preferred native imagery. From an iconographic viewpoint, the botanical elements of this piece have stronger ties to pre-contact, indigenous visual traditions. For example, the feather miters feature a vining plant to depict the Tree of Jesse rather than the European acanthus leaf.[42] While the Book of Hours engraving displays decorative mythological creatures of the Western tradition, amantecas included native species of butterflies and birds in their mosaics. The flora and fauna represented by the indigenous artists were looking back to past visual conventions of pre-Hispanic art. This can be seen in the examination of post-classic stone carvings representative of indigenous wildlife.[43]

The feather miters featuring the holy initials of Christ and Mary, as well as the miters depicting the Tree of Jesse, display a combination of both European and indigenous pictorial languages. The miters clearly reflect Christian iconography but were created by indigenous artists who incorporated their own iconographic symbolism and subtlety to these pieces. From an iconographic perspective, this feather mosaic bears traces of cultural identity from both sides – Spanish and indigenous.

Another example of cultural hybridity and originality is in The Mass of St. Gregory. This amantecayotl was commissioned by the nephew of Montezuma II, Diego de Alvarado Huanitzin, for Pope Paul III, whose papal decree in 1537 prevented further enslavement and protected the rights of the indigenous Aztec people.[44] The production of this piece was supervised by Pedro de Gante, a Franciscan missionary who established the School of San Jose de los Naturales, which trained indigenous artists in European styles and Christian imagery.[45] The Mass of Saint Gregory was a beloved subject in Spanish Renaissance paintings, portraying the body of Jesus Christ emerging before the sixth-century Pope Gregory during the sacred consecration of the Eucharist.

As seen in Bishop’s Featherwork Mitre, the composition of this piece features a European subject from a Christian print. Its original source material is most likely a late-15th century engraving by Israhel van Meckenem, entitled Mass of Saint Gregory.[46] Indigenous artists break with the source material in their depiction of certain elements, the most notable being the depiction of the arma christi. As a way of overcoming language barriers, according to art historian Claire Farago, pictographs helped serve as a hybrid means of communication between Spaniards and the Nahua people in early colonial times.[47] In the pre-colonial Aztec painted language, glyphs, or visual representations, were substitutes for written language. Symbols from Christian teachings often acted as mnemonic devices that allowed for associations to be made for the viewer. Therefore, non-Spanish speaking audiences could examine the Christian doctrine visually.[48]

The depiction of the instruments in the amantecayotl deviates from the Meckenem print in the way that the amantecas adapted the arma christi to be their own. The feather artists added unique elements to the composition that had not appeared in the original print. This includes elements such as the tree depicted to the right of Christ, and the two pineapples on the ledge of Christ’s tomb.[49] Furthermore, the instruments used during the Passion of Christ in Meckenem’s engraving appear to be attached to the walls of the interior space of a cathedral. In the feather mosaic, the architectural background of the cathedral is eliminated and the arma christi are suspended in the space surrounding Christ. They are isolated in a background of blue and appear to be visually similar to the pre-Hispanic, Nahua use of two-dimensional glyphs.[50] Their arrangement is unique too, as the arma christi are also shifted out of their original alignments in a way that feels both more visually balanced and narratively compelling to the events of the Passion of Christ. While many speculate about the motive of the feather artists who crafted The Mass of Saint Gregory,[51] the amantecas blended elements from their own visual language with that of Christian symbols, creating a work of art which embodies originality and cultural hybridity.

Furthermore, there are many examples outside of the nature of feather mosaics where native artists were able to insert their own aesthetics and sensibilities in different modes of artistic production during the Viceregal period of New Spain. The changing tastes of colonial Latin America were heavily influenced not only by the Europeans, but by the Amerindian culture as well. The expansion of Spain for “gold, God, and glory” conquered not only the Aztec Empire, but large swaths of land across the Americas. Another example of post-Colonial indigenous originality and influence is in the Andean Baroque, otherwise known as Meztizo style or planiform style, of facade carving.[52] The facade of the Jesuit Church of La Compañía, located in Arequipa, Perú, is one such example of its implementation. The facade is intricately carved but relatively flat to the face of the building. The decorative ornamentation of the planiform style is reminiscent of lace, and features ornamentation that references both Christian and Andean religious traditions.[53]

Scholars have explained the existence of this style as a hybrid between European tastes and indigenous stylistic inclinations. The planiform style has been described as a “crossbreed,” with a preference towards two-dimensional sculpture. Some scholars have attributed the style to a lack of ability, as indigenous artists were thought not to have been developed in their understanding of three-dimensional art.[54] According to scholar Kelly Donahue-Wallace in her book Art and Architecture of Viceregal Latin America 1521-1821, the style was developed by indigenous people, and leans towards local, Crillolo tastes. It was a reinvention of indigenous aesthetics, and many Criollos, Spaniards, and indigenous people who lived in Arequipa preferred the planiform style.[55] This form was not due to limitation in ability, but rather a knowledge and understanding of developing local preferences.

Another example of indigenous originality is in the lower cloister murals at the Convent of Malinalco in San Miguel. These cloister paintings were, in part, created with indigenous labor under the influence of the Augustinian Order.[56] The monastery was built upon an important Aztec religious site dedicated to goddess Malinalxóchitl, sister to Huitzilopochtli.[57] The intention of these 16^th century monastery projects was to indoctrinate new Christian populations to the faith, while restricting their ability to exercise pagan practices. The murals in the convent feature imagery that glorify the Augustinian order as well as scenes that educate the native public on the rewards of a pious existence.[58] Within the imagery of the Malinalco cloister murals, the indigenous idea Augustinian friars took advantage of was the Aztec people’s concept of the afterlife.[59] Augustinians borrowed Aztec notions of their life after death in order to quickly communicate the idea of eternal life in Heaven through God. Within the murals there is an indisputable sense of European familiarity; the subjects of the paintings are Christian, the style is executed using the grisaille technique, and much of the decorative foliage features the acanthus motif – a symbolic staple of Classical art and architecture. In this sense, the paintings remain true to European traditions. However, as these murals were created by the hand of Amerindian artists, the paintings also feature elements which would have been indigenous to New Spain.[60] Within the mural, elements of indigenous flora and fauna are depicted, including cacao beans, agave, cacti, and native reptiles and birds. Artists involved in the execution of monastic decorative programs pushed against the purity of European aesthetics and tastes by in part making these murals their own. Within the framework of colonial art, emerging amidst the pressures of conflict and shaped by the nuances of negotiation, questions of intention and authorship are essential to acknowledge. The visual identity of these murals was influenced by both Spanish and indigenous styles, exemplifying the agency of the Amerindian artist.

Colonialism’s Influence

During the period of Viceregal New Spain, indigenous and European cultures engaged in a vibrant exchange. This creative hybridity fostered and developed new artistic sensibilities and visual systems which still define the region today. There is an undeniably unequal relationship between the colonizer and the colonized. The involuntary assimilation of Christian and European artistic styles on behalf of the indigenous artists served as strategic tools used to reinforce Spanish dominance and establish visual conformity in the New World, while subduing the culture and practices of the native people. The context behind featherwork mosaics, and all art from the period of Viceregal New Spain, is incredibly complex– shaped by the brutalities of war, colonization, Christianization, Hispanicization, and more.[61] Yet, from any interaction between two cultures, hybridity follows. Native Aztec artists resisted the forced adoption of European visual culture by injecting originality and individuality into their work. From incorporating indigenous iconographic traditions to adopting and adapting a European visual language to make it their own, amantecas defined a means of expression rooted in originality and uniqueness.

Featherwork Today

Presently, most feather mosaics remain in permanent collections in Europe rather than the Americas. Most examples of pre-colonial featherwork mosaics not destroyed by early conquistadors were sent over to Europe as the spoils of war and victory of conquest. As mentioned previously, Montezuma’s Headdress can be found today in the Weltmuseum Wien, while the reproduction of the ruler’s headdress resides in the National Anthropology Museum in Mexico City. Many Mexican activists and political figures demand the return of Montezuma’s feather crown, but the Weltmuseum Wien dismisses repatriation pressures and claims the headdress is too delicate for transportation.[62] The Ahuizotl Shield can also be found in the Weltmuseum Wien, along with many other cultural treasures stolen from Mexico.[63] Most of the post-colonial featherworks remain abroad in Europe as well, including the majority of the previously discussed feather miters in Florence, Milan, Lyon, and Madrid.[64] Many cultural items were stolen from the indigenous cultures from which they belonged, removing them from their original context. Today, this ensures that Mexican people living in the Americas lack access to their own cultural heritage, further perpetuating the false perception of the inferiority of the colonized.

Despite its long and complex history amidst European colonization, featherwork arts have persisted to this day in Mexico. The greatest challenge facing this indigenous art form is the endangerment and extinction of many bird species in the Americas.[65] With unsustainable practices in poaching and the depletion of resources over the centuries, many indigenous and migratory birds have become extinct or endangered. The enduring legacies of colonialism extend beyond the exploitation of people, encompassing the environmental exploitation of land and its resources. By the nineteenth century, this indigenous art practice had fallen into relative obscurity, practiced to the degree of craftwork in Michoacán with non-precious, dyed feathers.[66] Despite the many challenges this art form faces, contemporary Mexican artists have attempted to revive featherwork in recent years, bringing the art form back into public attention. Contemporary featherwork survives today through the remarkable contributions of many talented artists.

One notable trend that exemplifies the cultural significance of featherwork is the incorporation of the Virgin of Guadalupe into the canon of contemporary feather art. Today in Mexico, The Virgin of Guadalupe is a popular devotional image that blends symbolism from both Western and Amerindian perspectives. While the figure takes her original inspiration from the Book of Revelations’ Woman of the Apocalypse, the Virgin of Guadalupe is a nationalist symbol of Criollo and Amerindian pride, representing independence, inclusivity, and prosperity for all of Mexico. Recent featherwork depictions of The Virgin of Guadalupe by artists such as Gabriel Olay Olay, Juan Carlos Ortiz Suárez, Irene Reyes, and Manuel de Jesús Medina reflect this embodiment of inclusion, nationalism, and Latin American identity.[67] The collective interest and endeavors of these artists have contributed not only to the preservation of this ancient art form, but its enrichment through newfound expressions.

[1] Thor Hanson, Feathers: The Evolution of a Natural Miracle (New York: Basic Books, a member of the Perseus Books Group, 2012), 205.

[2] Lisa Sousa and Allison Caplan, “Introduction: Knowledge of Birds and Feathers in the Ancient and Colonial Mesoamerican World,” Ethnohistory 67, no. 3 (2020): 345–54, https://doi.org/10.1215/00141801-8266361, 350.

[3] Alessandra Russo, “Plumes of Sacrifice: Transformations in Sixteenth-Century Mexican Feather Art,” Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics 42 (2002): 226–50, https://doi.org/10.1086/resv42n1ms20167580, 228.

[4] Sousa and Caplan, “Introduction: Knowledge of Birds,” 346.

[5] Teresa de Maria y Campos, “Rich Feathers, Fine Feathers,” in The Art of Featherwork in Mexico, by Teresa Castelló Yturbide and Manuel Cortina Portilla (Mexico City: Fomento Cultural Banamex, 1993), 27.

[6] Hanson, Feathers, 205.

[7] Hernán Cortés et al., Hernan Cortes: Letters from Mexico (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001), 110.

[8] Sousa and Caplan, “Introduction: Knowledge of Birds,” 346.

[11] Sousa and Caplan, “Introduction: Knowledge of Birds,” 346-50.

[10] “Quetzalcóatl,” Encyclopædia Britannica, July 20, 1998, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Quetzalcoatl.

[11] “Huitzilopochtli,” Encyclopædia Britannica, July 20, 1998, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Huitzilopochtli.

[12] Bernardino de Sahagún, Charles E. Dibble, and Anderson Arthur J O., Florentine Codex (Santa Fé: The school of American research and the University of Utah, 1981). Book IX.

[13] Alberto Cue, “Featherwork Among the Mexica,” in The Art of Featherwork in Mexico, by Teresa Castelló Yturbide and Manuel Cortina Portilla (Mexico City: Fomento Cultural Banamex, 1993), 52.

[14] Cue, “Featherwork Among the Mexica,” 52.

[15] Campos, “Rich Feathers, Fine Feathers,” 35.

[16] Christian F. Feest, Vienna’s Mexican Treasures: Aztec, Mixtec, and Tarascan Works from 16th Century Austrian Collections (Wien: Museum für Völkerkunde, 1990), 9.

[17] Dúrdica Ségota, “The Radiance of Feathers,” in Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700), by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 384.

[18] Feest, “Vienna’s Mexican Treasures,” 9.

[19] Walter Baumgartner, “The Aztec Feather Shield in Vienna: Problems of Conservation,” Nuevo Mundo Mundos Nuevos, 2006, https://doi.org/10.4000/nuevomundo.1447.

[20] Renée Riedler, “Materials and Technique of the Feather Shield Preserved in Vienna,” in Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700), by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 333.

[21] Baumgartner, “The Aztec Feather Shield.”

[22] Hanson, Feathers, 207.

[23] Frances F. Berdan, “Featherworking in the Provinces: A Dispersed Luxury Craft under Aztec Hegemony,” Ancient Mesoamerica 27, no. 1 (2016): 209–19, https://doi.org/10.1017/s0956536115000358, 210.

[24] Cortés et al., Hernan Cortes, 223.

[25] Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes Arte Plumario En México y Europa (México, D.F: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, 2011), 5.

[26] Gerhard Wolf, “Incarnations of Light: Picturing Feathers in Europe/ Mexico, ca. 1400-1600,” in Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700), by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 65.

[27] Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane, Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700) (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 10.

[28] Alessandra Russo, “A Contemporary Art from New Spain,” in Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700), by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 48.

[29] Wolf, “Incarnations of Light,” 95.

[30] Monica Dominguez Torres, “Frames for Conversion: The Assimilation of Native Motifs in the Monastic Decoration of New Spain (1540-1580),” PhD diss., (University of Toronto, 2004), 9.

[31] Torres, “Frames for Conversion,” 9.

[32] “A Collection in Context: The Hispanic Society of America,” Bishop’s Featherwork Miter – A Collection in Context: The Hispanic Society of America, accessed August 26, 2023, https://projects.mcah.columbia.edu/hispanic/monographs/featherwork-miter.php.

[33] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 21.

[34] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 21.

[35] Corinna Tania Gallori, “From Paper to Feathers: The Holy Names of Jesus and Mary from Europe to Mexico,” in Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700), by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 315.

[36] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 20.

[37] Gallori, “From Paper to Feathers,” 312.

[38] Gallori, “From Paper to Feathers,” 312.

[39] Gallori, “From Paper to Feathers,” 316.

[40] Gallori, “From Paper to Feathers,” 315.

[41] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 21.

[42] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 21.

[43] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 21.

[44] Claire Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” essay, in Painting a New World Mexican Art and Life, 1521-1821, by Donna Pierce, Rogelio Ruiz Gomar, and Clara Bargellini (Denver: Denver Art Museum, 2004), 98.

[45] Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” 95.

[46] Russo, “A Contemporary Art from New Spain,” 48.

[47] Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” 100.

[48] Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” 100.

[49] Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” 100.

[50] Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” 101.

[51] Farago, “Mass of Saint Gregory,” 101.

[52] Kelly Donahue-Wallace, “Religious Architecture and Altarscreens,” in Art and Architecture of Viceregal Latin America, 1521-1821 (Albuquerque: Univ. of New Mexico Press, 2008).

[53] Donahue-Wallace, “Religious Architecture and Altarscreens.”

[54] Donahue-Wallace, “Religious Architecture and Altarscreens.”

[55] Donahue-Wallace, “Religious Architecture and Altarscreens.”

[56] Torres, “Frames for Conversion,” 127.

[57] Torres, “Frames for Conversion,” 103.

[58] Torres, “Frames for Conversion,” 50.

[59] Jeanette Favrot Peterson, “Synthesis and Survival: The Native Presence in Sixteenth-century Murals of New Spain,” Phoebus: A Journal of Art History, no. 7 (1995): 25.

[60] Peterson, “Synthesis and Survival,” 25.

[61] Russo, Wolf, and Fane, El Vuelo de Las Imágenes, 6.

[62] Anny Shaw, “Mexican Activists Hack Viennese Museum’s Audioguide in Protest over Its Ownership of the Montezuma Headdress,” The Art Newspaper – International art news and events, February 24, 2022, https://www.theartnewspaper.com/2022/02/24/mexican-activists-hack-viennese-museums-audioguide-in-protest-over-its-ownership-of-the-montezuma-headdress.

[63] Feest, “Vienna’s Mexican Treasures,” 1.

[64] Gallori, “From Paper to Feathers,” 312.

[65] Carlotta Mapelli Mozzi, “Contemporary Featherwork” in The Art of Featherwork in Mexico, by Teresa Castelló Yturbide and Manuel Cortina Portilla (Mexico City: Fomento Cultural Banamex, 1993), 221.

[66] Mozzi, “Contemporary Featherwork,” 221.

[67] Jaime Cuadriello, “The Virgin of Guadalupe in Featherwork,” in Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe (1400-1700), by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane (Munich: Hirmer, 2015), 409.