In the middle of the massive Mexico City, an inconspicuous ramp on the far corner of the Zócalo allows access to Templo Mayor. Beside the National Palace and the Metropolitan Cathedral, the greatest temple of the Aztec Empire is not much to look at. It is a pit. Time has taken tolls on Tenochtitlan's centerpiece, but nevertheless the space remains. An overlook behind the Cathedral's tabernacle offers a sweeping view across the preservation site, along with scale models of what was there in Aztec times. But that was a different time in a different city. The temple today has become so much more.
Mesoamerican architectural history, like any history, provides numerous alternative understandings. Rethinking ancient architectural problems provides architects a well-worn path to sophisticated success. For instance, Olgiati draws from the Mayans a framework between the abstract and the non-referential that outlines underlying ideas at play in his architecture.1 This contrives but one of numerous readings of Mesoamerica's many-layered architecture. Quite literally, as traditions elsewhere added onto, built anew or razed and rebuilt whenever their needs outgrew their existing architecture, the Aztec and their predecessors built atop of what they had. When the Spanish arrived in Tenochtitlan, Templo Mayor towered,2 but that had not always been the case. Moctezuma's majesty was the sixth enlargement of the 'original' temple (making it the seventh overall), but the temple Cortés saw and conquered was not a singular incarnation of Templo Mayor: it was every iteration of Templo Mayor, each added over the last.A As new emperors came to power, they simultaneously buried and built upon the work of their predecessors. The vanity of the throne worked with the advancement of the empire, and the temple stood as a testament to the Aztec timeline.
This notion did not translate to the European arrivals who operated on the calendar of the Catholic Church. The Spanish dismantled the Aztec temple to provide stone for their own: the Metropolitan Cathedral adjacent to Templo Mayor's remains, and the building that now heads the city's central plaza. The cathedral, one of the oldest churches in the Americas, also speaks to traversing time, though in a less augmented manner. Its construction spans three centuries (1573–1813), beating out Templo Mayor's (ca. 1325–1519) by a half century or so, and its architecture borrows from numerous disparate ecclesiastical styles. In a way, the cathedral acts as additional layers to Templo Mayor, albeit ones reengineered through deconstruction.B The cathedral certainly has no wish to affiliate with human sacrifices; its sacraments oppose reading the Spanish structures as continuations in Templo Mayor's trajectory.3 Nevertheless, the interpretation comes forth readily through the holy sites' shared Mesoamerican location, material and method.
The cathedral avoided this malignment up until the 20th century as Templo Mayor was all but forgotten. While scholars nearly located the great Aztec temple in the 19th century, no large-scale excavation work would begin until 1978, almost five hundred years after the temple's demolition. But Templo Mayor did not rest undisturbed in the meantime: it sank further into its lakebed foundation,4 buildings came and went above it and a brick water main was even built through it. As jarring a cut as this duct makes through the site, it provides a perspective found nowhere else in the excavation.C Visitors, relegated to boardwalks, typically float above and around the ruins in order to avoid further interference. The pipe, an existing interjection, allows one to walk into and through the temple's naked layers, or at least the ones that somewhat remain. After traversing through multiple manifestations of the temple, the walkway turns off the pipe. Cutting through is no longer needed: the second temple remains somewhat intact (as does, presumably, the first temple within it).D The boardwalk reciprocates by weaving through the revealed details of a reduced Templo Mayor. Although the temple mave have shrunken in stature, it has grown considerably in its temporal presence. Each layer, from the buried center to the removed cathedral, pulls visitors further into the history and trajectory of the building.
Before the boardwalk loops back across the excavation site and returns to Zócalo and city life, a museum intercedes. Designed by renowned Mexican architect Pedro Ramírez Vázquez, the Museo del Templo Mayor stands as a neutral backdrop to the ruins. Ramírez Vázquez knows that here is neither the time nor place to build an architectural wonder — for those interested in iconic museums and Mesoamerican icons, visit his National Museum of Anthropology — as the architectural wonder already existed in Templo Mayor. The museum serves to house all those things the temple no longer can.E Its intermissive situation along its subject's walkways provides further proof of its subservience. The museum's interior, entirely black, focuses the view on the illuminated objects and history on display. Even where he flourishes (e.g. with a central atrium or a two-story void),F Ramírez Vázquez does so with an eye towards the artefacts. With a longing gaze, he joins in above Templo Mayor.
Tracing Templo Mayor's upward trajectory today, we more often than not collide into the green space frame that shades its fragile remains.G The frame, floating just off the worn masonry, reminds visitors of the ongoing efforts to recover, preserve and display the loss of Templo Mayor as known to the Aztecs. It points to a promising future where leaders add more layers to this monument of Mexico's story. Again we find the temporal core of Templo Mayor: it has embodied its own trajectory. The space of Templo Mayor, once the heart of Tenochtitlan's Sacred Precinct, remains rich with time's omnipotence.H How it was, is and will be all shrink into the ephemeral experience of a single visit without abandoning the stones that tell its tale.I Traversing the excavation today provides constant insight into and experience of numerous Templo Mayors, each but one of the single ever-growing entity.
# Date [Return to] Title
500+ Ongoing Essays
550 May 2023 Platform Gamification
504 December 2022 On the Grid
518 December 2022 A Suspended Moment
A–Z Ongoing Glossary
G September 2022 – as in Girder
F May 2022 – as in Formal
* April 2022 – Key
E February 2022 – as in Entablature
D November 2021 – as in Duck
C August 2021 – as in Czarchitect
B June 2021 – as in Balustrade
A April 2021 – as in Aalto
0–15 December 2020 Journal
15 November 2020 Practice (in Theory)
14 October 2020 Alternative Narratives beyond Angkor
13 September 2020 Urban Preservation in Cuba
12e August 2020 Conversation on Copley Square: Summations
12d July 2020 Conversation on Copley Square: Conceptions
12c June 2020 Conversation on Copley Square: Reflections
12b June 2020 Conversation on Copley Square: Nonfictions
12a May 2020 Conversation on Copley Square: Foundations
11 May 2020 Out of OFFICE
10 March 2020 Hudson Yards from the High Line
9 March 2020 Metastructures
8 February 2020 Form, Program and Movements
7 February 2020 Life in the Ruins of Ruins
6 January 2020 The Urban Improvise
5 January 2020 Having Learned from Las Vegas, or Moving past Macau
4 December 2019 A Retrospective on the Decade's Spaces
3 December 2019 The Captive Global City
2 November 2019 Temporal Layers in Archaeological Space
1 November 2019 Contemporary Art Museums as Sculptures in the Field
0 Undated Manifesto: A Loose Architecture
© 2019 – 2023 Win Overholser
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