The fates of the Piedras Negras monuments have been various, and they are now scattered throughout the world—in Guatemala, Mexico, the United States, Europe, and Japan. Distinct pieces of the same monument are in museums and private collections on separate continents.
Most of the sculptures are in Guatemala. The majority of the monuments that the Penn Museum removed in the 1930s are displayed in Guatemala’s MUNAE. Fragments of Stelae 3, 7, and 25 also are in the MUNAE collection, but these had been looted. For a time they were in collections in the United States, Mexico, and Europe but later were returned to Guatemala.22 In addition, some monuments were never removed and remain on site at Piedras Negras. Yet those not looted include only a few plain or eroded monuments, some partially cut but abandoned stelae, and the many fragments that were jettisoned when other parts of monuments were extracted.
Some Piedras Negras sculptural fragments are in Mexico. One small fragment of Stela 3’s lower portion, which bears the image of a lidded vessel, is in a private collection in Merida (I. Graham 2010:432; Stuart and Graham 2003:24), and the head from the ruler’s belt on Stela 4 is in the Rufino Tamayo Museum in Oaxaca (Teufel 2004:321).23 In addition, at least one set of fragments is in Japan; these two fragments, from the text of Stela 29, are in Tokyo (Mayer 1995:14, plate 39).
Several monument fragments are in Europe. For instance, the top of Stela 25, which has an image of the Principal Bird Deity, is in the Linden-Museum in Stuttgart (Doris Kurella, personal communication, 2010; Mayer 1987:7, plate 12). The Parisian Galerie Jeanne Bucher has much of Stela 34 (Galerie Jeanne Bucher 1966, plate 17); they reportedly once had a figure of a captive from Stela 4 also (Donald Hales, personal communication, 2010). The upper half of Stela 35 became part of the Ludwig Collection and then the Rautenstrauch-Joest-Museum fur Volkerkunde in Koln, Germany (Bolz 1975, plate XXXIII; J. Lujan Munoz 1985:464) (fig. E.5).24 In addition, a portion of Stela 11 was reportedly in a Swiss private collection in the early 1990s (Stuart and Graham 2003:56).
Other Piedras Negras monuments and fragments are in the United States. Stela 14, which was removed in the 1930s, remains in the Penn Museum (plate 3). The front of Stela 2 is at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts (Mayer 1980, plate 20), and the top half of Stela 11 is in the Houston Museum of Fine Arts (Mayer 1987:7, plate 11).25 The large upper portion of Stela 5 was in the collection of the Museum of Primitive Art and is now part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Errington 1994:201-202).26 Stela 5 is on a long-term loan from Guatemala and is displayed in the Metropolitan’s Michael C. Rockefeller Wing.
In contrast to these identified locations, some fragments’ current whereabouts are not public knowledge. For example, Parke-Bernet Galleries sold the recarved Stela 32 to an unidentified private collector, and its current location is undisclosed (Stacy Goodman, personal communication, 2002; Parke-Bernet Galleries 1968:72-73, fig. 109). In addition, there are rumors of other monument fragments in undisclosed private collections in Europe, North America, and Guatemala.
Looters also fragmented and removed monuments from other sites in Chiapas and the Peten, including La Amelia, Calakmul, Cancuen, El Cayo, Dos Pilas, La Florida, Lacanha, Motul de San Jose, Naranjo, El Peru, Tortuguero, and El Zapote. In addition to those mentioned above, museums with whole or fragmented Maya sculptures include the Kimbell Art Museum (Fort Worth, Texas), the Dallas Museum of Art (Dallas, Texas), the New Orleans Museum of Art (New Orleans, Louisiana), the Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection (Washington, D. C.), and the Cleveland Museum of Art (Cleveland, Ohio), in the United States, in addition to museums and art galleries in Europe, such as the Musees Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire (Brussels, Belgium), the Rietberg Museum (Zurich, Switzerland), and the Museum fur Volkerkunde (Berlin, Germany), and private collections in Europe and North America (Coggins 1969, 1970; Mayer 1978, 1980, 1984, 1987, 1995).
With the fragmentation, transport, and sale of Piedras Negras sculptures in the mid-twentieth century, looters transformed some pieces of what had been religious and cultural objects into unrecognizable refuse. Other pieces were transformed into valuable commodities for sale. Many were later moved into museum collections, whether purchased by the museums or donated by collectors.
Richard Davis (1997:176-77, 231-32) discusses a comparable transformation of medieval Indian sculptures in the first half of the twentieth century as a taxonomic shift from idols to art in the eyes of Western viewers. He also theorizes the transformation of specific objects into commodities in the art and antiquities market. Davis uses the conceptualizations of Arjun Appadurai (1986) and Igor Kopytoff (1986) regarding the possibility for objects to move in and out of commodity status. Objects created for religious purposes, for example, may be turned into commodities when they are taken from temples or ruins and sold into the art market. Davis (1997:23132) also cites Kopytoff’s characterization of “terminal commoditization,” in which “further exchange of an object is precluded by legal or cultural fiat.” An object’s acquisition by a museum may be a “terminal commoditization,” although museums may deaccession pieces, at which point the objects may become commodities again. Another example of terminal commoditization is when objects are repatriated to their source countries, whether returned to the temple where originally displayed or sent to a museum.
The straight cuts from the modern saw, the cracks caused by fire or acid, and the physical removal of monuments from Piedras Negras transformed these objects and divorced them from earlier contexts and meanings. In dealers’ hands, they were commodities. In collectors’ hands, they were prized treasures or simply investments (see I. Graham 2010:430). In their new contexts in galleries, museums, and some private collections, they became art objects to be admired, possessed, and desired. However, the very stones and the fractures coursing through them recall those earlier meanings and the violence that changed their state and status.
The dealers and museums that acquired the sculptures consolidated and restored them, using putty fill, cement, and adhesives to fill in and hide the cuts of the power saw. We can add this restoration practice to Davis’s theorization of museum display and labeling conventions that erase the signs of an object’s previous commodity status (see R. Davis 1997:231-32). Yet in the case of Maya sculptures, the reconstructions endeavor to erase not only signs of commodity status but also indices of violence and displacement.
Although the adhesives and fillers may attempt to obscure moments of violence, the traces are still visible. These traces evoke consideration of the objects’ wholeness and their fragmentation, of how the objects once appeared, why they appear this way now, and what actions brought them to the museums. Through these indices of human action, phases of objects’ life histories bleed out of their surfaces and inspire, to use Elsner’s phrase, “two-directional interpretation” (2003:209-11), in which an object’s material form signals previous states and multiple moments of human engagement with them.
World History
