43 SOUTH AMERICA

 

Spanish Conquest and Exploration in South America in the 16th c. 

Map of the Spanish Conquest and Exploration in South America, 16th c.
Spanish Conquest and Exploration in South America in the 16th c. (Map by Simeon Netchev, 2022, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike.)

Spanish Viceroyalties in the Americas 

by Dr. Lauren Kilroy-Ewbank

Juan Baptista Cuiris, image of Christ made with feathers, c. 1590–1600, 25.4 x 18.2 cm (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna)

Juan Baptista Cuiris, image of Christ made with feathers, c. 1590–1600, 25.4 x 18.2 cm (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna)

“In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.” These opening lines to a poem are frequently sung by schoolchildren across the United States to celebrate Columbus’s accidental landing on the Caribbean island of Hispaniola as he searched for passage to India. His voyage marked an important moment for both Europe and the Americas—expanding the known world on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean and ushering in an era of major transformations in the cultures and lives of people across the globe.

When the Spanish Crown learned of the promise of wealth offered by vast continents that had been previously unknown to Europeans, they sent forces to colonize the land, convert the Indigenous populations, and extract resources from their newly claimed territory. These new Spanish territories officially became known as viceroyalties, or lands ruled by viceroys who were second to—and a stand-in for—the Spanish king.

Girolamo Ruscelli, "Nveva Hispania tabvla nova," engraved map of New Spain, 1599, 19 x 25 cm (David Rumsey Historical Map Collection). Note that at its height, the Viceroyalty of New Spain also included Central America, parts of the West Indies, the southwestern and central United States, Florida, and the Philippines.

Girolamo Ruscelli, “Nveva Hispania tabvla nova,” engraved map of New Spain, 1599, 19 x 25 cm (David Rumsey Historical Map Collection). Note that at its height, the Viceroyalty of New Spain also included Central America, parts of the West Indies, the southwestern and central United States, Florida, and the Philippines.

Folding Screen with the Siege of Belgrade (front) and Hunting Scene (reverse), c. 1697-1701, Mexico, oil on wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, 229.9 x 275.8 cm (Brooklyn Museum)

Folding Screen with the Siege of Belgrade (front) and Hunting Scene (reverse), c. 1697-1701, Mexico, oil on wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, 229.9 x 275.8 cm (Brooklyn Museum)

The Viceroyalty of New Spain

Less than a decade after the Spanish conquistador (conqueror) Hernan Cortés and his men and Indigenous allies defeated the Mexica (Aztecs) at their capital city of Tenochtitlan in 1521, the first viceroyalty, New Spain, was officially created. Tenochtitlan was razed and then rebuilt as Mexico City, the capital of the viceroyalty. At its height, the viceroyalty of New Spain consisted of Mexico, much of Central America, parts of the West Indies, the southwestern and central United States, Florida, and the Philippines. The Manila Galleon trade connected the Philippines with Mexico, bringing goods such as folding screens, textiles, raw materials, and ceramics from around Asia to the American continent. Goods also flowed between the viceroyalty and Spain. Colonial Mexico’s cosmopolitanism was directly related to its central position within this network of goods and resources, as well as its multiethnic population. A biombo, or folding screen, in the Brooklyn Museum attests to this global network, with influences from Japanese screens, Mesoamerican shell-working traditions, and European prints and tapestries. Mexican independence from Spain was won in 1821.

The Viceroyalty of Peru

Lands governed by the Viceroyalty of Peru, c. 1650

Lands governed by the Viceroyalty of Peru, c. 1650

The Viceroyalty of Peru was founded after Francisco Pizarro’s defeat of the Inka in 1534. Inspired by Cortés’s journey and conquest of Mexico, Pizarro had made his way south and inland, spurred on by the possibility of finding gold and other riches. Internal conflicts were destabilizing the Inka empire at the time, and these political rifts aided Pizarro in his overthrow. While the viceroyalty encompassed modern-day Peru, it also included much of the rest of South America (though the Portuguese gained control of what is today Brazil). Rather than build atop the Inka capital city of Cusco, the Spaniards decided to create a new capital city for Peru: Lima, which still serves as the country’s capital today.

In the eighteenth century, a burgeoning population, among other factors, led the Spanish to split the viceroyalty of Peru apart so that it could be governed more effectively. This move resulted in two new viceroyalties: New Granada and Río de la Plata. As in New Spain, independence movements here began in the early nineteenth century, with Peru achieving sovereignty in 1820.

Pictorial Otomi catechism (pictorial prayer book), 1775-1825, Mexico, watercolor on paper, 8 x 6 cm (Princeton University Library)

Pictorial Otomí catechism (pictorial prayer book), 1775-1825, Mexico, watercolor on paper, 8 x 6 cm (Princeton University Library)

Evangelization in the Spanish Americas

Soon after the military and political conquests of the Mexica (Aztecs) and Inka, European missionaries began arriving in the Americas to begin the spiritual conquests of Indigenous peoples. In New Spain, the order of the Franciscans landed first (in 1523 and 1524), establishing centers for conversion and schools for Indigenous youths in the areas surrounding Mexico City. They were followed by the Dominicans and Augustinians, and by the Jesuits later in the sixteenth century. In Peru, the Dominicans and Jesuits arrived early on during evangelization.

Convento San Agustín de Acolman, mid-16th century (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Convento, San Agustín de Acolman, mid-16th century (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The spread of Christianity stimulated a massive religious building campaign across the Spanish Americas. One important type of religious structure was the convento. Conventos were large complexes that typically included living quarters for friars, a large open-air atrium where mass conversions took place, and a single-nave church. In this early period, the lack of a shared language often hindered communication between the clergy and the people, so artworks played a crucial role in getting the message out to potential converts. Certain images and objects (including portable altars, atrial crosses, frescoes, illustrated catechisms or religious instruction books, prayer books, and processional sculpture) were crafted specifically to teach new, Indigenous Christians about Biblical narratives.

Aztec deities, Bernardino de Sahagún and collaborators, General History of the Things of New Spain, also called the Florentine Codex, vol. 1, 1575-1577, watercolor, paper, contemporary vellum Spanish binding, open (approx.): 32 x 43 cm, closed (approx.): 32 x 22 x 5 cm (Medicea Laurenziana Library, Florence, Italy)

Aztec deities, Bernardino de Sahagún and collaborators, General History of the Things of New Spain, also called the Florentine Codex, vol. 1, 1575-1577, watercolor, paper, contemporary vellum Spanish binding, open (approx.): 32 x 43 cm, closed (approx.): 32 x 22 x 5 cm (Medicea Laurenziana Library, Florence, Italy)

This explosion of visual material created a need for artists. In the sixteenth century, the vast majority of artists and laborers were Indigenous, though we often do not have the specific names of those who created these works. At some of the conventos, missionaries established schools to train Indigenous boys in European artistic conventions. One of the most famous schools was at the convento of Santa Cruz in Tlatelolco in Mexico City, where the Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún, in collaboration with Indigenous artists, created the encyclopedic text known today as the Florentine Codex.

Church of Santo Domingo and Qorikancha, Cusco, Peru

Church of Santo Domingo and Qorikancha, Cusco, Peru (photo: Håkan Svensson, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Strategies of Dominance in the Early Colonial Period

Spanish churches were often built on top of Indigenous temples and shrines, sometimes re-using stones for the new structure. A well-known example is the Church of Santo Domingo in Cusco, built atop the Inka Qorikancha (or Golden Enclosure). You can still see walls of the Qorikancha below the church.

Great Mosque of Cordoba, Cordoba, Spain, begun 786, cathedral added 16th century
Great Mosque of Córdoba, Córdoba, Spain, begun 786, cathedral added 16th century (photo: Toni Castillo Quero, CC BY-SA 2.0)

This practice of building on previous structures and reusing materials signaled Spanish dominance and power. It had already been a strategy used by Spaniards during the so-called “Reconquest,” or reconquista, of the Iberian (Spanish) Peninsula from its previous Muslim rulers. In southern Spain, for instance,  a church was built directly inside the Great Mosque of Córdoba during this period. The reconquista ended the same year Columbus landed in the Americas, and so it was on the minds of Spaniards as they lay claim to the lands, resources, and peoples there. Some sixteenth-century authors even referred to Mesoamerican religious structures as mosques, revealing  the pervasiveness of the Eurocentric conquest attitude they brought with them.

Throughout the sixteenth century, terrible epidemics and the cruel labor practices of the encomienda (Spanish forced labor) system resulted in mass casualties that devastated Indigenous populations throughout the Americas. Encomiendas established throughout these territories placed Indigenous peoples under the authority of Spaniards. While the goal of the system was to have Spanish lords educate and protect those entrusted to them, in reality it was closer to a form of enslavement. Millions of people died, and with these losses certain traditions were eradicated or significantly altered.

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The author kneeling alongside the king of Spain before the Pope. Title page from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, The First New Chronicle and Good Government (or El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno, c. 1615 (image from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen)

Title page from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, The First New Chronicle and Good Government, c. 1615 (The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen)

Nevertheless, this chaotic time period also witnessed an incredible flourishing of artistic and architectural production that demonstrates the seismic shifts and cultural negotiations that were underway in the Americas. Despite being reduced in number, many Indigenous peoples adapted and transformed European visual vocabularies to suit their own needs and to help them navigate the new social order. In New Spain and the Andes, we have many surviving documents, lienzos, and other illustrations that reveal how Indigenous groups attempted to reclaim lands taken from them or to record historical genealogies to demonstrate their own elite heritage. One famous example is a 1200-page letter to the king of Spain written by Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, an Indigenous Andean whose goal was to record the abuses the Indigenous population suffered at the hands of Spanish colonial administration. Guaman Poma also used the opportunity to highlight his own genealogy and claims to nobility.

image

Saint John the Evangelist, 16th century, featherwork (Museo Nacional de Arte, Mexico City)

Talking about Viceregal Art

How do we talk about viceregal art more specifically? What terms do we use to describe this complex time period and geographic region? Scholars have used a variety of labels to describe the art and architecture of the Spanish viceroyalties, some of which are problematic because they position European art as being superior or better and viceregal art as derivative and inferior.

Juan Baptista Cuiris, image of Christ made with feathers, c. 1590–1600, 25.4 x 18.2 cm (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna)
Juan Baptista Cuiris, image of Christ made with feathers, c. 1590–1600, 25.4 x 18.2 cm (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna)

Some common terms that you might see are “colonial,” “viceregal,” “hybrid,” or “tequitqui.” “Colonial” refers to the Spanish colonies, and is often used interchangeably with “viceregal.” However, some scholars prefer the term “colonial” because it highlights the process of colonization and occupation of the parts of the Americas by a foreign power. “Hybrid” and “tequitqui” are two of many terms that are used to describe artworks that display the mixing or juxtaposition of Indigenous and European styles, subjects, or motifs. Yet these terms are also inadequate to a degree because they assume that hybridity is always visible and that European and Indigenous styles are always “pure.”

Applying terms used to characterize early modern European art (Renaissance, Baroque, or Neoclassical, for instance) can be similarly problematic. A colonial Latin American church or a painting might display several styles, with the result looking different from anything we might see in Spain, Italy, or France. A Mexican featherwork, for example, might borrow its subject from a Flemish print and display shading and modeling consistent with classicizing Renaissance painting, but it is made entirely of feathers—how do we categorize such an artwork?

It is important that we not view Spanish colonial art as completely breaking with the traditions of the pre-Hispanic past, as unoriginal, or as lacking great artists. The essays and videos found here reveal the innovation, adaptation, and negotiation of traditions from around the globe, and speak to the dynamic nature of the Americas in the early modern period.

Introduction to the Viceroyalty of Peru

by Dr. Ananda Cohen-Aponte

The Inka asks what the Spaniard eats. The Spaniard replies: "Gold," from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, The First New Chronicle and Good Government (or El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno, c. 1615 (image from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen)

The Inka asks what the Spaniard eats. The Spaniard replies: “Gold,” from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, The First New Chronicle and Good Government (or El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno, c. 1615 (image from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen)

Francisco Pizarro and the conquest of Peru

In the early sixteenth century, the Inka Empire was in a state of turmoil due to a succession dispute between half-brothers Atahualpa and Huascar. They shared the same father, the penultimate Inka ruler Huayna Capac, who had died suddenly in 1527 without choosing an heir to the throne. Atahualpa, based in the northern Inka city of Quito, was in the process of consolidating the northern reaches of the empire in modern-day Ecuador and Colombia while Huascar commandeered Cuzco in the south. The half-brothers instigated a civil war that rocked the empire’s foundations to its core. Atahualpa and his powerful army ultimately managed to defeat Huascar and ascend to the throne.

It was at this very same time, however, that Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro arrived on South American soil. With news of white-skinned strangers arriving in the northern highland city of Cajamarca, Atahualpa traveled northward to greet the new arrivals in November of 1532. Atahualpa arrived in Cajamarca with a large retinue of attendants and soldiers. While the initial encounter between the Inka and the conquistador was an amicable one, tensions flared after the Spanish friar and translator Vicente de Valverde handed Atahualpa a breviary (liturgical book) to ascertain his receptiveness to Christianity, a religion about which the Inkas, of course, had no knowledge whatsoever.

Inka Quipu

Inka quipu (Museo Larco, Lima, Peru; photo: Claus Ableiter, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Since the quipu served as the primary system of communication in the Inka empire, Atahualpa had no concept of a “book” in the European sense of the term. According to the chroniclers of the Spanish conquest, Atahualpa threw the book to the ground. This perceived act of disrespect—of throwing the sacred book, and by extension, the word of God—to the ground provided the conquistadors with justification for ambushing the city and taking Atahualpa as their captive.

This pivotal moment in the Spanish conquest reveals the fundamental cross-cultural misunderstandings that took place during the early years of the Spanish invasion. While a number of translators facilitated dialogues between Spanish conquistadors and Quechua-speaking Inkas, their radically different world views and ways of life often defied simple linguistic translation. In his attempt to negotiate with Pizarro, Atahualpa promised to fill up a room measuring twenty-two feet long, seventeen feet wide, and eight feet high with gold and silver as ransom in exchange for his freedom. He agreed that the room would be filled entirely with gold, and then with silver twice over, all within the span of two months.  The indigenous chronicler Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala (ca. 1535–after 1616) illustrated this scene in his El primer nueva corónica i buen gobierno (The First New Chronicle and Good Government), a 1,189-page manuscript written to King Philip III (1578–1621) in protest of Spanish colonial rule.

The execution of Atahualpa Inka in Cajamarca: Umanta kuchun, they behead him from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, The First New Chronicle and Good Government (or El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno, c. 1615, p. 386 (image from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen)

The execution of Atahualpa Inka in Cajamarca: Umanta kuchun, they behead him from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, The First New Chronicle and Good Government (or El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno, c. 1615, p. 386 (image from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen)

Despite Atahualpa’s miraculous success in coordinating donations of precious metals, he was publicly garroted (strangled) in 1533 on trumped up charges of idolatry and for the murder of Huascar. Pizarro’s army invaded the Inka capital of Cuzco on November 15, 1533, thus solidifying the Spanish triumph over the Inka empire. In some ways, the Spanish victory was inevitable. Inka stone and wooden weaponry were no match for Spanish metal armor, swords, and harquebuses (a type of proto-musket).

Pizarro and his army also capitalized on the deep political fractures within the Inka empire caused by the succession battle and received ample support from Atahualpa’s detractors. Nevertheless, Inka resistance delayed the full consolidation of Spanish colonial rule in the Andes until the execution of Tupac Amaru, the last ruler of the Neo-Inka state, a semi-autonomous faction that ruled from 1535 until 1572 in the secluded tropical outpost of Vilcabamba.

The effects of the Spanish conquest

The Spanish conquest of the Inka Empire brought about fundamental changes to the Andean social, political, and cultural landscape. The dismantling of Tawantinsuyu (the Quechua term for the Inka Empire) resulted in the irrevocable loss of Inka self-governance and the implantation of Spanish colonial rule. Spaniards quickly established themselves throughout the newly conquered region, often in pre-Hispanic urban centers. The former subjects of the Inka empire were forcibly resettled into indigenous settlements known as reducciones, while Spaniards settled in cities throughout Andean South America inhabited primarily by Spanish and criollo (Latin American-born Spaniards) residents. High tribute quotas were imposed on indigenous peoples that required participation in laborious public works projects and the mining of precious metals on a rotational basis. Inka religion became the target of Spanish missionaries, who associated it with idolatry and devil-worship based on a profound misunderstanding of Inka religious practice.

Keru Vessel, Inka, lacquered wood, Colonial, Peru (Brooklyn Museum) Keru Cup. Inka. Colonial. Wood; lacquered, 7 3/8 x 6 15/16inches / 18.7 x 17.6cm (Brooklyn Museum)

Kero Vessel, Inka, lacquered wood, Colonial, Peru, 18.7 x 17.6cm (Brooklyn Museum)

Spanish colonial rule, which lasted from 1534 into the 1820s exerted a profound and destructive impact on the lives of Peru’s indigenous inhabitants. However, the conquest and colonization of the Andes did not result in the complete eradication of indigenous peoples or indigenous practices. The visual arts of the colonial Andes stand as a testament to the resilience of native peoples in the post-conquest world. Native Andeans continued to express themselves artistically alongside and in collaboration with Spanish, mestizocriollo, Asian, and African-descended peoples. Pre-Columbian artistic traditions cultivated over the course of several millennia entered into dynamic contact with imported European models to produce stunning and culturally complex works of art.

Establishment of the Viceroyalty of Peru and its artistic centers

Map showing the Viceroyalty of Peru

Map showing the Viceroyalty of Peru (Mapping Globalization project, © 2006 Anandaroop Roy)

The Viceroyalty of Peru was established in 1542 and encompassed part or all of modern-day Venezuela, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, Paraguay, Uruguay, and Argentina, and even some of Brazil, making it the largest viceroyalty in the Spanish Americas. By the eighteenth century, however, the Peruvian viceroyalty dramatically reduced in size with the establishment of the Viceroyalty of New Granada in 1717 and the Viceroyalty of Río de la Plata in 1776.

Map of colonial Peru

Map of colonial Peru

At its height, the Viceroyalty of Peru was a burgeoning administrative district and hotbed of artistic activity. The coastal city of Lima, founded in 1535 by Pizarro, was assigned the capital of the viceroyalty for its accessibility and proximity to crucial trade routes—Cuzco’s high altitude and relative isolation was deemed an obstacle to Spanish political and economic interests. Artistic centers emerged throughout the viceroyalty’s major cities, including Lima, Cuzco, and Arequipa in present-day Peru, Quito in present-day Ecuador, and La Paz and Potosí in present-day Bolivia. The new artistic and architectural traditions that emerged under Spanish rule played a critical role in ensuring that the viceroyalty’s inhabitants were devout Catholics and loyal subjects of the Spanish crown.

At the same time that the visual arts reflected Spanish colonial interests, however, they also held the power to challenge and subvert them. The visual traditions borne out of colonialism are often layered with multiple registers of meaning that transmitted different messages depending on the cultural identity of the viewer. The arts of colonial Peru are neither fully pre-Columbian nor fully European, but a dynamic combination of both.

Additional resources

Kenneth Andrien, Andean Worlds: Indigenous History, Culture, and Consciousness under Spanish Rule, 1532–1825 (Albuquerque: The University of New Mexico Press, 2001).

South America, 1600–1800 A.D.” on the Met Museum Timeline

María Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, History of the Inca Realm (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1999)

Peru: Kingdoms of the Sun and the Moon (Montreal: Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, 2012)

Kris Lane, “Conquest of Peru” (Oxford Bibliographies, 2011)

Source: Dr. Ananda Cohen-Aponte, “Introduction to the Viceroyalty of Peru,” in Smarthistory, October 16, 2020, accessed August 23, 2024, https://smarthistory.org/viceroyalty-peru/.

Introduction to colonial Brazil

by Dr. Rachel Zimmerman

“Northeastern South America” in the Vallard Atlas, c. 1547, folio 11 (Huntington Library; photo UC Berkeley Library, www.digital-scriptorium.org, CC BY-NC 4.0)

“Northeastern South America” in the Vallard Atlas, c. 1547, folio 11 (Huntington Library; photo UC Berkeley Library, www.digital-scriptorium.org, CC BY-NC 4.0).

Although news of Christopher Columbus’s “discovery” of the Americas had already spread across Europe, the Portuguese stumbled upon Brazil by accident. In 1498, Vasco da Gama successfully sailed from Portugal around the southern tip of Africa to India, achieving what Columbus had hoped to accomplish: establishing an overseas route between Europe and Asia. In 1500, Pedro Alvares Cabral set out from Portugal to replicate da Gama’s journey to India but veered too far west and landed instead on the shores of Brazil. Although Cabral’s team only stayed in Brazil for a few days before continuing on to India, they sent a letter to the Portuguese king to inform him of the discovery. The letter describes peaceful exchanges with naked indigenous peoples who hunted with bows and arrows and slept in hammocks.

This atlas shows native Brazilians bringing brazilwood to a French merchant dressed in black. “Northeastern South America,” detail of French merchantå in the Vallard Atlas, c. 1547, folio 11 (Huntington Library; photo UC Berkeley Library, www.digital-scriptorium.org, CC BY-NC 4.0).

This atlas shows native Brazilians bringing brazilwood to a French merchant dressed in black. “Northeastern South America,” detail of French merchantå in the Vallard Atlas, c. 1547, folio 11 (Huntington Library; photo UC Berkeley Library, www.digital-scriptorium.org, CC BY-NC 4.0).

The Portuguese colonization of Brazil was initially quite different from the Spanish conquest of the Americas. The Portuguese were more invested in evangelization and trade in Asia and Africa, which included trafficking in enslaved humans, and viewed Brazil as a trade post instead of a place to send larger numbers of settlers. Unlike the extensive stone-built cities of Mesoamerica and the Andes, indigenous inhabitants of Brazil lived in villages. Rather than launching large military campaigns to conquer empires, the Portuguese engaged in trade with native Brazilians and smaller-scale battles against rival groups. Brazil’s first export to Europe was brazilwood, a tree that produces a red dye and that gave the region its name. Wanting access to brazilwood, the French also created alliances with indigenous groups and competed over control of Brazil for much of the sixteenth century. The French Vallard Atlas shows native Brazilians bringing brazilwood to a French merchant dressed in black. The feather skirts are likely a misinterpretation of headdresses.

Converts and Cannibals

Portuguese explorers believed that native Brazilians would be easily converted to Catholicism once the language barrier had been overcome. Franciscan and Jesuit missionaries rushed to Brazil and lived with converted indigenous peoples in aldeias (villages) separate from the towns and cities where Portuguese settlers lived. Even though the Pope had forbidden enslavement of Native Americans in 1537, explorers called bandeirantes traveled about capturing native Brazilians to sell into slavery. As in the Spanish Americas, some missionaries helped to protect indigenous communities from enslavement, while others exploited indigenous labor.

“Native Americans kill and eat a prisoner,” fold-out plate engraving, 18.4 cm, in Naaukeurige versameling der gedenk-waardigste zee en land-reysen na Oost en West-Indiën … zedert het jaar 1524 tot 1526 (Leiden: Pieter van der Aa, 1706), vol. 15, part 1, p. 56 (John Carter Brown Library)

“Native Americans kill and eat a prisoner,” fold-out plate engraving, 18.4 cm, in Naaukeurige versameling der gedenk-waardigste zee en land-reysen na Oost en West-Indiën … zedert het jaar 1524 tot 1526 (Leiden: Pieter van der Aa, 1706), vol. 15, part 1, p. 56 (John Carter Brown Library)

The letter that announced the Portuguese arrival in Brazil described native inhabitants as complacent and harmless, but later accounts by adventurers and missionaries focus heavily on the practice of ritual cannibalism. Although there is little evidence that indigenous cultures practiced cannibalism, rumors of such actions were viewed as a justification for enslavement. The association of native Brazilians with cannibalism has had a lasting effect on the arts even into the twenty-first century. Tarsila do Amaral’s painting Antropofagia (based on the Greek word for cannibalism) is a particularly famous example.

Map of Brazil in 1644, showing Dutch and Portuguese territories (source: Carl Pruneau, CC BY 3.0)

Map of Brazil in 1644, showing Dutch and Portuguese territories (source: Carl Pruneau, CC BY 3.0)

From Sugar to Gold

Sugar soon overtook brazilwood as the colony’s most important industry. Europeans forced enslaved Africans to work on sugarcane plantations, providing plantation owners with great wealth. The sugar industry attracted the Dutch, who gained control over the northeast of Brazil from 1630 to 1654. Although short-lived, the Dutch colony produced a substantial number of artworks. The governor Johan Maurits van Nassau was a supporter of scientific exploration. His palace in the capital Mauritsstad (Recife) included botanical gardens and a zoo, and he brought two Dutch painters, Albert Eckhout and Frans Post, with him to document the flora, fauna, and customs of Brazil. The merchant and painter Zacharias Wagener, who had been serving military duties in Brazil, also joined the governor’s court.

Frans Post specialized in landscape painting and continued to produce depictions of Brazil such as this one after returning to Europe. Frans Post, Brazilian Landscape with Anteater, 1649, oil on canvas 52.8 x 69.3 cm (Alte Pinakothek, Munich, CC BY-SA 4.0)
Once the Portuguese had expelled the Dutch, they continued to settle Brazil’s vast territory and exploit its resources. In addition to enslaved Africans producing sugar in the Northeast, explorers found gold and diamonds in an inland region called Minas Gerais (General Mines). The abundant gold and diamonds, mined by enslaved individuals, allowed wealth, trade, and artistic production to flourish in the entire Portuguese empire throughout the eighteenth century. As the closest port to the mining region, Rio de Janeiro was named Brazil’s new capital city in 1763.

Google Map of Church of Our Lady of the Rosary in Recife in BrazIl

Afro-Brazilians as Artists and Patrons

More enslaved Africans were transported to Brazil than to any other region of the Americas. As a result, Brazil’s economy, built environment, and culture are founded on the activities of Africans and people of African descent. Not only were most colonial architectural projects built by enslaved individuals, but some of the most famous artists of colonial Brazil were also people of African ancestry. Antonio Francisco Lisboa, known by the nickname Aleijadinho (Little Cripple), was a sculptor in Minas Gerais, and Valentim da Fonseca e Silva, or Mestre Valentim, was an architect who worked in Rio de Janeiro. Afro-Brazilians were also active patrons of the arts. Both enslaved and free people of color joined confraternities to celebrate Catholic saints. Confraternity members pooled their resources and commissioned churches where they held religious services. Churches belonging to Afro-Brazilian communities survive all over Brazil, such as the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary in Recife (as seen above).

Portal of the Academy of Fine Arts, Rio de Janeiro, now in the botanical gardens. The rest of the academy was demolished in 1938 (photo: Rodrigo Soldon, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Portal of the Academy of Fine Arts, Rio de Janeiro, now in the botanical gardens. The rest of the academy was demolished in 1938 (photo: Rodrigo Soldon, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

An Unusual Ending

In 1807, Napoleon’s army invaded Portugal and the Portuguese royal family fled to Rio de Janeiro. This move transformed Rio de Janeiro into the capital of the Portuguese Empire and dramatically altered the political, economic, and cultural landscape of Brazil. The Portuguese king invited several French artists to Rio de Janeiro (this group is called the French Artistic Mission) who were tasked with the creation of the Academy of Fine Arts. The royal family returned to Portugal in 1821, but the king’s son Pedro I remained in Brazil. The following year, Pedro declared independence and named himself emperor of Brazil.

Copyright: An introduction to colonial Brazil (article) | Khan Academy

Albert Eckhout, Series of eight figures

by Dr. Rachel Zimmerman

image

Albert Eckhout, series of eight figures, 1641, oil on canvas (The National Museum of Denmark).

Map of Brazil in 1644, showing Dutch and Portuguese territories (source: Carl Pruneau, CC BY 3.0)

Map of Brazil in 1644, showing Dutch and Portuguese territories (source: Carl Pruneau, CC BY 3.0)

In 1630, the Dutch conquered the prosperous sugarcane-producing area in the northeast region of the Portuguese colony of Brazil. Although it only lasted for 24 years, the Dutch colony resulted in substantial art production. The governor Johan Maurits van Nassau-Siegen also encouraged scientific exploration and his palace in Mauritsstad (present-day Recife) included botanical gardens, a zoo, and a cabinet of curiosities. Maurits brought two artists, Albert Eckhout and the landscape painter Frans Post, to Brazil to document the local flora, fauna, people, and customs. One of Eckhout’s series of eight paintings helps us to understand how the Dutch artist encoded ethnic differences among the colony’s population.

Making order of a foreign world

Eckhout’s series consists of four life-size male-female pairs, each representing a different cultural or ethnic category. Although Eckhout collaborated with scientists on other projects, these monumental oil paintings employ the visual language of fine art rather than of scientific illustration. The compositions and poses are based on European portrait conventions and some panels include mythological references.

Eckhout may have used live models, and the level of detail gives the impression that these are portraits. However, they are meant to represent “types” rather than individuals. Much like New Spanish casta paintings, Eckhout conveys the moral and cultural stereotypes associated with each group. Clothing, jewelry, weapons, and baskets help to indicate the class and level of sophistication of the figures, while the proliferation of tropical fruits and vegetables advertises the natural abundance of the Brazilian land.

Hans Burgkmair, Left Side of King Cochin, from Set of Exotic Races, 1508, printed 1922 by the Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, woodcut, 26.6 × 35 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Hans Burgkmair, Left Side of King Cochin, from Set of Exotic Races, 1508, printed 1922 by the Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, woodcut, 26.6 × 35 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Today, scientists recognize that the idea of separate human races is socially constructed rather than based in genetics. Although the classification of peoples into groups has a long history in Western art and science, skin color was not a major defining factor until around the middle of the seventeenth century—around the same time that Eckhout painted this series. Before this, ethnic groups were conceptualized based on cultural characteristics. For instance, the early 16th-century woodcuts of Hans Burgkmair differentiated the peoples of Africa and India by their hairstyles, material culture, and behaviors, but united all the figures with the same type of idealized body. Eckhout, on the other hand, pays careful attention to skin color and physiognomy as he categorizes the people of Brazil.

Albert Eckhout, Coconuts, c. 1637-44, oil on canvas, 92 x 93 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Albert Eckhout, Coconuts, c. 1637-44, oil on canvas, 92 x 93 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Most scholars believe that these paintings were produced in Brazil to be hung in the governor’s palace. They may have been arranged around a large room with other paintings by Eckhout, including a portrait of Johan Maurits and still life paintings of tropical fruits and vegetables. The series functioned as an extension of Maurits’s cabinet of curiosities, enabling him to “possess” the portrayed figures. After the Dutch lost their Brazilian colony in 1654, Johan Maurits presented the paintings to the king of Denmark, as they had become unwelcome reminders of the failed colony.

Albert Eckhout, left: Tapuya woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 272 x 165 cm; right: Tapuya man, 1641, oil on canvas, 176 x 280 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Albert Eckhout, left: Tapuya woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 272 x 165 cm; right: Tapuya man, 1641, oil on canvas, 176 x 280 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Of cannibals and converts

The pair referred to as “Tapuya” represent native Brazilian tribes with whom Europeans were often engaged in battle. Their nudity, save for some leaves, strings, and small adornments, marks them as “uncivilized” in the eyes of the colonialists. The potential eroticism of the woman’s nudity is undermined by the references to cannibalism—in addition to the severed limbs that she carries, the dog at her feet probably alludes to the dog-headed cannibals that the ancient Greeks described as living in distant regions of the world.[1] The Tapuyas’ militarism is highlighted by the man’s weapons, as well as the distant group of armed figures behind the woman. The snake and spider at the man’s feet further emphasize the threat that the Tapuya represented to the Dutch.

Albert Eckhout, left: Brazilian woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 183 x 294 cm; right: Brazilian man, 1641, oil on canvas, 272 × 163 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Albert Eckhout, left: Brazilian woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 183 x 294 cm; right: Brazilian man, 1641, oil on canvas, 272 × 163 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

In contrast to the Tapuya, the figures referred to as Brazilians are portrayed as having been tamed through their conversion to Christianity. Missionaries (Catholic under the Portuguese and Protestant under the Dutch) organized converted native Brazilians into aldeias (villages). The European-style building and tidy rows of trees in the orchard demonstrate European notions of the order that have been imposed on the Brazilian land. Both figures are partially clothed, and the woman’s bare breasts emphasize her nurturing role as mother. Unlike the Tapuya man’s club, the Brazilian man’s bow and arrows, not unlike their European equivalents, are meant for hunting animals rather than humans.

Albert Eckhout, left: African woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 282 x 189 cm; right: African man, 1641, oil on canvas, 273 x 167 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Albert Eckhout, left: African woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 282 x 189 cm; right: African man, 1641, oil on canvas, 273 x 167 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Africans on either side of the Atlantic

Eckhout’s African woman is shown as displaced from her homeland and forced into a world where Africans, Americans, and Europeans interacted. The American plants and native Brazilians fishing on the shore locate her in Brazil, but her hat and basket are African, while her jewelry and the pipe tucked into her waist are European. Although she probably represents a slave, the focus is not on labor but on her sexuality, as the child’s ear of corn points toward her genitals. The child’s lighter complexion may indicate that he is of mixed heritage: European men frequently had sexual relations, often coerced, with enslaved African women.

The African man literally stands apart from the other figures. He is not situated in Brazil, but in Africa, as indicated by the date palm (which is native to North Africa) and the ivory tusk on the ground, which exemplifies Africa’s trade goods. Although the sword, probably modeled after one in Johan Maurits’s collection, is more appropriate to a nobleman, the loincloth, ivory tusk, and palm tree probably stem from prints of traders in the Guinea coast, a major slave trading region. This painting is likely intended to portray a merchant involved in the slave trade that brought the woman to Brazil. Both of these representations of African people emphasize their musculature, reinforcing the European conception that Africans were inherently suited to manual labor and, thus, suited to being enslaved.

Albert Eckhout, left: mameluca woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 271 x 170 cm; right: mulatto man, 1641, oil on canvas, 274 x 170 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Albert Eckhout, left: mameluca woman, 1641, oil on canvas, 271 x 170 cm; right: mulatto man, 1641, oil on canvas, 274 x 170 cm (The National Museum of Denmark)

Between two worlds

The final pair of figures represents people of mixed race. The woman is a mameluca, of indigenous and white ancestry, and the man a mulatto, of black and white ancestry. The representation of the mameluca contains no references to agriculture or child-rearing. Instead, she solely provides voyeuristic pleasure to European males as she smiles cheekily at the viewer. The guinea pig reinforces her sexual availability because Europeans associated guinea pigs with rabbits, traditional symbols of fertility. To a European audience, the loose garment and flowers reference Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers and fertility who was adopted as a symbol for prostitutes and courtesans. In a place with few white women, the mameluca’s whiteness made her particularly desirable as a concubine.

In the eyes of Europeans, the so-called mulatto’s white ancestry likewise allowed him to rise above other Afro-Brazilians. He is posed in an authoritative military stance in front of a sugarcane field, the Dutch colony’s most important source of revenue. Likely tasked with protecting the fields and supervising the slaves, his appearance emphasizes his position within the social hierarchy between free and slave, European and non-European. His clothing is an imaginative mixture of European and foreign garments. While the offspring of enslaved women were born into slavery, children of white fathers were sometimes freed. Although bare feet can function as a visual symbol of enslavement, slaves were forbidden from carrying weapons—thus, the rifle and rapier suggest that he is free.

White supremacy and exploitation

Eckhout may have intended to show the relative levels of “civilization” of the various types of peoples depicted in these paintings, but scholars disagree on the order of such a hierarchy. It is clear that Eckhout viewed the represented ethnic groups to be inferior to white Europeans. The careful attention granted to skin color and physiognomy suggests that Eckhout and his patron believed Europeans possessed not only superior culture and morals, but also biology. The paintings help to convey the message that Europeans had both a right and a duty to control and acculturate foreign peoples.

The Dutch conquest of Brazil was economically motivated. These paintings accentuate the abundance and fertility of the Brazilian land, especially highlighting the lucrative sugarcane fields. The wealth generated by these endeavors, however, depended directly on the subjugation of both African and indigenous peoples. Eckhout’s portrayals of the inhabitants of Brazil and Africa as inferior to Europeans served to justify and advocate for both the enslavement of Africans and the exploitation of the Brazilian land and its inhabitants.

Notes:

1. Rebecca P. Brienen, Visions of Savage Paradise: Albert Eckhout, Court Painter in Colonial Dutch Brazil (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2006), 124.

Additional resources:

Albert Eckhout’s paintings at the National Museum of Denmark

Essay on the visual culture of the Atlantic world from The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History

Research materials on Dutch Brazil at the New Holland Foundation

Source:  Dr. Rachel Zimmerman, “Albert Eckhout, Series of eight figures,” in Smarthistory, June 11, 2018, accessed August 18, 2024, https://smarthistory.org/eckhout-series/.

Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks, Ouro Preto, Brazil

by Dr. Miguel A. Valerio

Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Juliana Bruder, CC BY-SA 4.0)

Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks, 18th century, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Juliana Bruder, CC BY-SA 4.0)

Afro-Brazilian brotherhoods

map ouro preto

Map of showing the location of Ouro Preto, Brazil (underlying map © Google)

In eighteenth-century Brazil, people of African descent founded and joined Catholic brotherhoods (lay associations dedicated to Marian and saintly devotions, and charitable work). In a world that provided no safety net for Afrodescendants, brotherhoods allowed Afro-Brazilians to pool resources to care for each other, especially when members fell ill or died. Black brotherhoods included free-born, freed (or manumitted), and enslaved members who paid a small fee to join and to stay active. These fees and other financial activities (such as loan programs and real estate investments) allowed Afro-Brazilian brotherhoods to care for members. The discovery of gold in Brazil during the 1690s also brought wealth to Afro-Brazilian brotherhoods, as members mined for a share of the profit or had their own mines (like the legendary Chico Rey—a mine owner who is said to have financed the construction of his brotherhood’s church, St. Iphigenia).

While Catholic brotherhoods were found all over the Spanish and Portuguese empires, only in Brazil did brotherhoods for people of African descent manage to build their own churches. Some of these churches are among colonial Brazil’s most beautiful and include work by the best architects and painters of the period, many of whom were black, such as Aleijadinho or Mestre Valentim. Studying these churches allows us to see how people of African descent expressed themselves through religion, art, and architecture.

Although designed by a white architect, the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks in Ouro Preto is among the most famous of these Black brotherhood churches. In fifteenth-century Portugal, the Dominican Order founded Rosary brotherhoods (brotherhoods dedicated to praying the Rosary and Our Lady of the Rosary) for Blacks as a means of integrating newly arrived Africans into Catholicism. As a result, most Afro-Brazilian brotherhoods were Rosary brotherhoods and many of their churches are dedicated to Our Lady of the Rosary (a Marian advocation that originates with a 12th-century vision of Saint Dominic receiving a rosary from the Virgin Mary to fight heretics).

Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks today on Google Maps

An unusual design

Plan of Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil

Plan of Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil

The brotherhood of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks obtained their first chapel in 1716, later replacing the small chapel with the present church in 1764. The brotherhood used the church as their place of worship and, as with many black brotherhood churches in Brazil, continue to do so today.

José Pereira dos Santos designed the current plan of two connected ovals shortly before his death in 1764. Only two churches from the period, both designed by Pereira, have this shape: the Rosary of the Blacks and St. Peter in Mariana. This uncommon shape allowed the church to stand out from the customary rectangular structures, thereby indicating the elevated socioeconomic status of its members.

Left: Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Juliana Bruder, CC BY-SA 4.0); right: Igreja de São Francisco de Assis, Ouro Preto (photo: svenwerk, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Left: Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks, 18th century, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Juliana Bruder, CC BY-SA 4.0); right: Church of São Francisco de Assis, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: svenwerk, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

In 1785, the brotherhood commissioned local architect Manuel Francisco de Araújo to update the façade according to prevailing tastes in Brazil. Araújo revised the church’s exterior and added the bell towers. The church’s façade, like its interior, is in the iconic Mineiro Rococo style. This style was common in this region and is characterized by its whitewashed walls and elaborate stone moldings, its towers resembling those of the nearby Church of Saint Francis (designed and executed by Aleijadinho).

Interior View on Google Maps

The present church was completed in 1793, and its interior was finished by Manuel Ribeiro Rosa and José Gervásio de Sousa. This region was home to Black, white, and mixed-race artists but records do not mention a racial designation for Manuel Ribeiro Rosa and José Gervásio de Sousa. In addition to these named artists, extensive building projects such as this one depended on a large workforce that may have included members of the brotherhood.

Saint Iphigenia, inside the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil

Saint Iphigenia, inside the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Giuliano Orlando)

Expressing agency with Black saints 

Black brotherhoods made churches their own through devotion to black saints, like the legendary St. Iphigenia (a 1st-century Ethiopian princess), St. Kaleb of Axum (a 6th-century Ethiopian king), and Benedict the Moor and Anthony of Carthage—the latter two lived in Renaissance Italy, first as slaves then as freed, religious men.

Black saints, inside the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil

Saints Benedict and Anthony, inside the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Ricardo André FrantzCC BY 3.0)

The Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks contains six side altars with niches ornamented with painted and carved rocaille (elaborate ornamentation with pebbles and shells) frames. Inside the niches are statues of the black saints Iphigenia, Kaleb, Benedict, and Anthony. The last two niches (across from one another, and nearest the church’s entrance) are dedicated to white saints, namely the Virgin and Child and St. Helena of Constantinople. The rounded walls with these side altars direct the gaze forward toward a painted wooden arch framing the main altar, and calling attention to the statue of Our Lady of the Rosary at its center.

Saint Helena, inside the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Juliana Bruder, CC BY-SA 4.0)

Saint Helena, inside the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Giuliano Orlando)

St. Helena and the importance of conversion 

The inclusion of St. Helena, the mother of the Roman Emperor Constantine, among these black saints may initially seem surprising. According to the early Christian father Eusebius of Caesarea, Helena converted to Christianity soon after Constantine became Emperor of Rome in 306 C.E. She convinced her son to convert to Christianity and made it the official religion of the Empire. Later in life, she traveled to Palestine to recover the cross on which Jesus had been crucified, which she brought back to Rome with her. She is shown holding the cross in the sculpture. Her presence in the church speaks to the brotherhood’s devotion to the Cross and commitment to spreading Christianity following her example, but through the Rosary rather than the cross.

Painting of Saint Benedict receiving a rosary from an angel

Painting of Saint Benedict receiving a rosary from an angel at the entrance to the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks, 18th century, Ouro Preto, Brazil (photo: Ricardo André FrantzCC BY 3.0)

St. Benedict

A ceiling painting of St. Benedict at the entrance of the church includes another reference to St. Helena. The painting shows the black saint receiving a Rosary from an angel. The angel offering Benedict the rosary tells him In hoc signo vinces (“by this sign you will conquer”), the same phrase that appeared to Constantine in Greek before the Battle of the Milvian Bridge. Here, the brotherhood members put their stamp on Christian iconography in two ways:

First, by creating a new narrative of St. Benedict receiving a Rosary on behalf of the black race. Normally St. Dominic of Guzman, the founder of the Dominican Order, is depicted receiving the Rosary from the Virgin Mary, which he then teaches to others. Here a black saint receives it directly from an angel, creating an uninterrupted link between his race and heaven. This is significant because blackness had been seen as evil from the Middle Ages and only whitened through conversion. Here a black saint is given a new instrument of conversion and salvation.

Second, the brotherhood members reshape an existing Christian narrative by replacing the Cross with the Rosary as the symbol of salvation. Thus, the painting declares that the brotherhood members will win admission to heaven through praying the Rosary. In other words, by constantly praying the Rosary, Mary will intercede so God can reward them with eternal life in paradise.

Another message of the painting is that the brotherhood members are charged with converting and catechizing new African arrivals through the Rosary, because the Rosary is a meditation on the principal tenets (beliefs) of Catholicism. Ouro Preto was a new town (originating in the late 17th century) where the black population was predominantly recently enslaved Africans. The membership of the brotherhood was not necessarily made up of African-born members, but the brotherhood made Christianizing newly arrived Africans part of their mission. While colonial Afro-Latin Americans have been generally viewed as the target of conversion efforts by white missionaries, this painting shows Afrodescendants doing lay missionary work themselves.

Afro-Brazilian agency

Ouro Preto’s Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks speaks to the kind of artistic and socioeconomic agency Afro-Brazilians, whether enslaved, free, or freed, wielded in the eighteenth century. It shows the ways in which Afro-Brazilian brotherhoods manipulated Catholic imagery to give their temples an Afro-centric iconography that expressed their group, Catholic, and racial identity. Beyond that, the Church invites us to think about the ways early modern Afrodescendants expressed themselves through art and other objects.

Additional resources: 

 Virtual tour of the city of Ouro Preto that includes the church of São Francisco de Assis

Source: Dr. Miguel A. Valerio, “Afrodescendants and Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks, Ouro Preto, Brazil,” in Smarthistory, May 6, 2021, accessed August 20, 2024, https://smarthistory.org/afrodescendants-and-church-of-our-lady-of-the-rosary-of-the-blacks-ouro-preto-brazil/.

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Huma 207: Exploring the Arts and Culture of the World Copyright © 2024 by Karen Brown, Michal Yadlin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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