This Jalisco zoomorphic sculpture dates to just before or after the start of the first millennium AD, and seems to represent a (mythical?) animal and its young. It pertains to a group of archaeological cultures – known almost purely from their artworks – referred to as the Western Mexico Shaft Tomb tradition. All of the cultures encompassed under this nomenclature were in the habit of burying their dead in socially-stratified burial chambers at the base of deep shafts, which were in turn often topped by buildings. Originally believed to be influenced by the Tarascan people, who were contemporaries of the Aztecs, thermoluminescence has pushed back the dates of these groups over 1000 years. Although the apogee of this tradition was reached in the last centuries of the 1st millennium BC, it has its origins over 1000 years earlier at sites such as Huitzilapa and Teuchitlan, in the Jalisco region. Little is known of the cultures themselves, although preliminary data seems to suggest that they were sedentary agriculturists with social systems not dissimilar to chiefdoms. These cultures are especially interesting to students of Mesoamerican history as they seem to have been to a large extent outside the ebb and flow of more aggressive cultures – such as the Toltecs, Olmecs and Maya – in the same vicinity. Thus insulated from the perils of urbanisation, it behoves us to learn what we can from what they have left behind, and of these remains, it is perhaps the art that is the most informative.
The arts of this region are enormously variable and hard to understand in chronological terms, mainly due to the lack of context. The most striking works are the ceramics, which were usually placed in graves, and do not seem to have performed any practical function, although highly decorated utilitarian vessels are also known. It is possible that they were designed to depict the deceased – they are often very naturalistic – although it is more probable that they constituted, when in groups, a retinue of companions, protectors and servants for the hereafter.
This funerary vessel would undoubtedly have held some mythological significance, as it does not conform to the usual range of figure types such as warrior protectors and maternity figures. This pair of seemingly supernatural creatures must therefore represent gods, spirits or ancestors.

The first is a larger individual of uncertain sex in a stolid pose, kneeling on the right leg, with the left hand resting on its knee, and the right hand supporting the second figure. The latter is a smaller individual perched rather precariously in the first’s back, craning its neck eagerly over to its left and its hands resting casually on the first’s shoulders. Their identity is uncertain. They either represent humans in animal masquerade, or mythical animals that held some significance for the culture that produced them. The anatomy of their bodies seems to suggest the former, as they have essentially human torsos and limbs, as well as what appears to be clothing and adornment. The masks – if masks they are – are long and snouted, with a generally rodent/canine appearance, surmounted by flat-topped, decorated hats. The deep brown of the ground i highlighted by the incised decoration detailing the edges of clothing and the presence of adornments that include belts and necklaces. As stated, the postcrania are essentially human, although forms are addressed as generalities as it is the heads that appears to have attracted the largest investment of time and effort from the sculptor. If they are intended to be dogs, their manufacture may be linked to the fact that dogs were seen as the guide to the underworld after one's death. Less felicitously, they were also viewed as food items, for which they were intentionally fattened. While the significance of the piece may never be known, we can still appreciate the elegance of its execution.