Paul Chenoweth

Friends are telling me that an ocarina of this size (approximately 7″ tall and roughly 4″ wide) is a better option for a shelf display than some of the earlier MugPhlutes that are two and three times that size.  That sounds pretty good to me, since this sized piece takes much less time to craft,  is easier to voice, and probably won’t takes weeks of slow drying to avoid warpage and cracking.

So, what’s with the mezoamerican looking pots, anyway?
My reading and research continues on glyphs that feature references to Mayan music, K’ojom.  There are only hints that musical notation ever made it to print and those artifacts have disappeared over time due to the frailty of the bark paper used for writing.  To say that music was never carved in stone illustrates the higher status of the scribes compared to the status of the musical priesthood.  Dr. Bowen’s personal experiences at the Uxmalico archeological site bears witness to this:

“It is becoming clearer each day that conflict developed between the scribes and the MugPhlute priests. Can it be mere coincidence that references to music played for high calendar, astronomical events clearly identifies the date, who ruled the event, what instruments were played…but have the names of the musicians obliterated? Something odd happened at Uxmalico. Something powerful…and it involved the impact of music at these events.  Was there jealousy between those who chronicled these events into stone and those whose music from the event became portable and available in the lowest of households?  Was music a threat to the status of the scribes?  Did the evolution of sophisticated instruments and talented players elevate music to a status beyond simple songs of every day Mayan life?

We’re excavating an area that has exposed large quantities of shards of pipe and bulbous ceramic shapes.  At first glance it appears as little more than a garbage dump from a ceremonial clean-up, but there is a layer below with skeletal remains aligned in a manner to suggest burial of the living.  What did these individuals do to meet their fate in such a cruel fashion?  So many questions and so many new markings to interpret. ”

Combining large pinchpot pieces with pulled handles can take some time, particularly when there are ceramic gymnastics involved…and this piece definitely qualifies.  The basic components were scored, slipped, joined and then braced while resting on the banding wheel.  At leather hard stage, the fipple of the ocarina was added and scoring for the areas to be sculpted was roughed out.  At each step, the entire piece received a light misting and was allowed to rest, completely covered,  overnight.  There is still much to be done, but a peek into the process might help others understand how these things are built.

The intent of the construction is to represent a snail (or conch), complete with shell and proboscis.  References to animals and use of animal part (tortoise shell, conch, animal bone, etc.) were common among Mayan wind instruments, and although this particular instrument is the object of a fictional story, it will produce multiple sounds.

I do wonder if the workspace of Mayan musical instrument makers ever became as cluttered as the space where this piece is sitting.  I’ll have to ask E.B. if there isn’t some sort of ancient proverb that suggests that out of chaos comes creativity 🙂

“Only brief mentions in ancient text speak of a rare flute that mimics the conch and snail. This rare find could be but one survivor of the Cenote at Uxmalico. The glyph imprints have not been identified, but the instrument is definitely ceremonial. Once clear of silt and several hundred years of debris, I’ll not be surprised if this piece still plays. I have named the instrument, Tlapitzquiquiztli – Horned Flute of the Conch.”