Mystery still surrounds much of the gold and silver artwork the Incas produced to reflect the glory of their Sun God.
A world without cash or even the concept of money. It may be the scenario wished for by the most wistful modern utopians or painted by the most incorrigible doomsayers in the current financial upheaval, but it was the reality of the Inca civilization.
The Incas may have decorated with precious metals indiscriminately, but their love of gold and silver was for their esthetic qualities only and not their monetary worth. To them, gold was ‘the sweat of the sun’ (and silver ‘the tears of the moon’) and it reflected the glory of the Sun, who they revered as a god. They believed the Sun God had entrusted gold to them for its safekeeping. Gold took on value only when crafted into ceremonial articles – vessels, jewelry, figurines – or adornments for tombs and temples.
Duality is a recurring theme throughout the story of the Incas, whether it be the cosmogonist theory of Father and Mother earth, gold and silver as representations of the male sun and female moon, or this very notion of a society being blissfully unaware of its fabulous wealth in the eyes of others.
Until, that is, those eyes discovered and coveted that wealth, and then very quickly and violently disabused the Incas of such an idea. Exciting the greed of the Spanish conquistadors, Inca gold and silver brought their empire to ruin. The Spaniards reduced the sweat and tears of Inca works of art into ingots to make them easy to transport and exchange.
That is one of the stories of ‘The Curse of Gold – 1,000 Years of Inca Gold’ currently being exhibited at Prague Castle. But it isn’t really only about curses or even dualities. Or a thousand years of Incas (who actually ruled for only about 90).
First of all, just as absorbing as the 90-some ancient Peruvian artifacts themselves, the oversized placards (in Czech and very good English) explain in an easy style the context that helps make the masks, knives, necklaces, and other items more intriguing than just a puzzling collection of ancient, shiny metal pieces.
Secondly, card-sized explanations inside each well-lit display box add just the right amount of specific information, delivered in bite-sized pieces, for a fulfilling accompaniment to the pieces themselves. There’s also a short video in Czech and German.
Most of the pieces here are gold. Or silver. Or evenly-alternating gold and silver. Often, one side of an artifact is the mirror image of the other, and hence the duality theme appears again in the very exhibits themselves. It’s as if the artisan used a paper template folded in half to create many of the designs. It becomes a kind of game of “spot the differences.” Just how many doubles and dualities and disparities can you find here?
We asked two local experts to walk through with us and offer their input. Our experts are His Excellency Alberto Salas Barahona, Ambassador of Peru to the Czech Republic, and Docent Markéta Křížová, Ph.D, of the Department of Ibero-American Studies at Charles University and Curator of the Exhibition.
And their excitement is palpable.
Our first question on dualities is how two very different cultures – a Peruvian exhibit in a Czech museum – mesh. “I am so proud of this exhibition,” Ambassador Salas says with a gentle smile. “I discussed it with three or four Peruvians here, and we are all very excited to show our heritage. In fact,” he laughs, “one lady told me, ‘Nobody here would believe that we Peruvians have the Inca gold, until they saw this exhibition!’”
He whizzes us straight past the shockingly heavy gold necklaces, clamshell-sized, gold facial-hair tweezers (yes, tweezers, used in secret rituals), and gold nose (yes, nose) decorations the size of dessert plates and points to one lone, round gold bowl only a little bigger than a grapefruit. “This,” he says, “this is my favorite piece in the exhibition. Why. Because of its simple – its good – form. It’s like modern art, although I believe it is rare, 26-karat gold” (Dr. Křížová nods). “This,” he says, “this is my favorite piece in the exhibition. Why. Because of its simple – its good – form. It’s like modern art, although I believe it is rare, 26-karat gold” (Dr. Křížová nods).
For her favorites, Dr Křížová points out the nearly perfect pairs of tiny apes, parrots, squirrels, and snakes which appear on several pieces. But such designs were never used as art or embellishment, she warns, lest we veer off the scholarly high road. “Everything had a purpose, a practical role and an important message. All these pieces were used in religious rituals, or as burial pieces.” A snake with an open mouth, for example, is believed to portray the passage of time. She adds that jewelry was worn only by men, although individual women held strong power as allies in political marriages and as the mentors of the next generation of rulers.
They mystery of Inca art and ritual: We know, but we don’t knowThe young scholar, researcher, and author slips us some more insider information by explaining two disparate reasons why the Incas – just one of the many cultures represented in the exhibit – are so intriguing. On one hand, Dr Křížová says, it’s because of what we don’t know; and on the other, what we know rather well.
“If you’re interested in ancient Egypt,” she says, “you can’t even begin to read everything about it because there’s so much information – writings, findings, artifacts … but not for the Andes. There’s just so much that we don’t know.”
Hundreds of different Andean cultures were forcibly united, merged, or submerged throughout thousands of years, some succeeding others, most having their histories erased, without any leaving a written language. When the Spanish conquered the last ones in line, the 15th century Incas, they “destroyed everything above the ground,” according to the docent, leaving only that which was quietly and secretly still lurking below the surface: graves and burial pieces.
There is no explanation, for example, for the exhibit’s gold pair of grasping hands, shaped like stiff gloves suddenly shrugged off and left to harden. “There’s no explanation written anywhere,” Dr Křížová sighs. “I’ve never been able to find anything.” Ambassador Salas nods, citing another pair of similar, baffling hands he’s seen in another collection.
“That leaves more question marks than answers,” she says, and further discussion is left hanging in the air.
But some of the things we do know show an eerie similarity to beliefs and practices in early Europe. The docent points to one of her favorite exhibit “snake pieces” whose long, wavy tails rattle and clink to scare away evil spirits.
“This is similar to the little jingle bells privileged children in medieval Europe wore, for a similar purpose,” she explains. Both the gold snakes and the gold bells also glittered, of course, for an extra level of enhanced security protection.
She also lists both cultures’ cyclical view of time, observed in the agricultural year and in annual religious celebrations. Both Andean and early European Christian civilizations revered the closeness of two worlds, heaven and earth, life and death, life after death. “Both cultures buried their dead in the middle of their villages, because they saw adoration of the dead as part of living,” she says. “It was only at the end of the 18th century, the Age of Enlightenment, when Europeans began to ‘get rid of their dead’ by moving cemeteries out of the villages,” she explains.
One Inca tradition remains alive and well
The Incas may have had no coins and no concept of money, but they did figure out taxes pretty well: they were paid with labor.
Local people built their community’s homes, schools, and roadside shelters (stocked with food) for travelers; wove textiles and made items such as those in the exhibit; planted and shared crops.
Even today, modern Peruvians enjoy a tradition left over from this earlier cashless society. As the Ambassador explains, every Sunday is market day on the town square in small Peruvian villages, and, just like centuries before, no money changes hands – all business is done by barter.
“There is no market speculation, no over-consumption, no waste,” he points out. “And everyone gets just what they need.”
Perhaps wistful utopian wishes have been answered.
Publisher’s note: We wish to thank the Peruvian Embassy in Prague and His Excellency, Alberto Salas Barahona, for their assistance in preparing this article.
All images obtained from www.zlatoinku.cz























