The Innovative Materiality of Revitalization Movements: Lessons from the Pueblo Revolt of 1680

Although Wallace’s revitalization movement model has been successfully utilized in scores of ethnographic and ethnohistorical studies of societies throughout the world, revitalization is considerably less well-documented in archaeological contexts. An examination of the materiality of revitalization movements affords an opportunity to redress this lack by investigating how material culture creates and constrains revitalization phenomena. In this article I reconsider the revitalization model through a case study focusing on the archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, emphasizing the central role of materiality in the formation and mediation of these movements. In doing so, I examine the archaeological signatures of revitalization movements, concluding that they are highly negotiated and heterogeneous phenomena and that the materiality of these episodes cultivates cultural innovation. I also seek to demonstrate that the distinctive types of material culture produced through revitalization are not epiphenomenal but, rather, are crucially constitutive of revitalizing processes. [Keywords:

Colloquial uses of the term materiality often cast objects as merely the physical expressions of thoughts (Miller 2005a:4). This idealist perspective conceives of artifacts as secondary manifestations of culture-that is, as mirrors that serve to reflect more ephemeral ideologies (Küchler 2005:207). Conversely, materially based perspectives tend to subordinate ideas to things, viewing mental processes as epiphenomena derived from real, tangible stuff (Keane 2005:183). Recent theories of materiality (DeMarrais et al. 2004:1;Keane 2003:409;Meskell 2005;Miller 2005b) go beyond these polarized understandings to assert that the mental world is both -constrained and created by the physical object world‖ (Taylor 2007:299), breaking down the artificial analytical separation between -symbolic‖ and -materialist‖ approaches, between mind and matter, and between people and things (Gregory 1982:41;Hoskins 1998:7-8;Kopytoff 1986:64-65;Strathern 1988:134). Materiality calls into question the objectivity of artifacts and recognizes their agency (Appadurai 1986:4-5;Smith 1996:106-107; Thomas 1991:28), positing that humans think through things, not just about them; thus, physical objects both shape and are shaped by mental processes (Bourdieu 1970).
A focus on materiality suggests that the distinctive types of artifacts produced by revitalization movements are not secondary to these processes but, rather, are crucially constitutive of revitalizing phenomena, playing essential roles in their organization, legitimation, and performance. This forces us to consider why revitalization is expressed through a particular medium, as well as proposing that the medium and the message are inseparable (Taylor 2007:299). In other words, the artifact is the revitalization process, and the revitalization process is the artifact. The material culture left behind by these movements attests to the crucial role of objects in effecting and mediating revitalization, as well as the value of studying materiality in any attempt to improve our understandings of these enigmatic events.

REVITALIZATION MOVEMENTS: ARCHETYPES AND ISSUES
Often originating out of situations of cultural -distortion,‖ environmental stress ( Thornton 1986Thornton , 1990; Wallace 1956:269), or rapidly shifting power relations (Martin 2004:67;McMullen 2004:267), revitalization movements are frequently inaugurated when a charismatic leader (sensu Weber 1978:245) emerges from the masses, sharing a revelation, preaching a message of hope, and promising improved lives for those who will heed the call. A small following typically develops around the prophet at first, a core group of disciples who spread the message to the larger populace. Over time believers grow in number and zeal. In some cases, the doctrine becomes institutionalized, and new cultural and social formations are established. More often the movement loses momentum as the promised utopia is not realized, and the leader fades into the shadows of history. Occasionally, however, the transformations wrought by revitalization movements can have substantial, even world-changing, consequences (Wallace 1956:264).
Since its inception more than 50 years ago, the revitalization model has proven useful in a variety of contexts worldwide (Arenson 1979;Harkin 2004c;LaBarre 1971LaBarre , 1972Nicholas 1973;Roth 1992;Thornton 1986Thornton , 1990Wallace 1958Wallace , 1972. But predicated as it is on the dominant paradigm of its day, the linear systems theory of the 1950s and 1960s (Wallace 2004:viii), anthropological interest has waned in recent years as paradigmatic shifts moved the field away from the creation of generalizing laws and universal models of human behavior. In fact, the revitalization movement model is not without its problems (Harkin 2004a(Harkin :xxix, 2004bNicholas 1973:73-74;Roth 1992:219-226;Siikala 2004:88-89;Wallace 2004:viii), some of which stem from the -organismic‖ model of culture underlying Wallace's groundbreaking study, including notions of -cultural equilibrium‖ and -distortion‖ (Wallace 1956(Wallace :265-266, 2004. Additionally, Wallace's model can be criticized for homogenizing the variety of political and economic contexts underlying differing cases of revitalization, and for continuing the long anthropological tradition of promoting and overemphasizing notions of indigenous distress. Yet to summarily dismiss the revitalization concept as obsolete risks throwing the theoretical baby out with the bathwater. The revitalization model has proven remarkably successful in the analysis of recurring patterns of human behavior among diverse peoples in various times and places (Harkin 2004a:xix)-so successful, in fact, that in recent years professional evangelists have adopted Wallace's archetype as a blueprint for effective conversion techniques (Peach 2001;Wallace 2004:viii). Accordingly, the revitalization model merits anthropological investigation-under any theoretical paradigm-because it effectively describes widespread and enduring elements of human behavior. Therefore, rather than abandoning Wallace's template, I advocate a reconsideration of revitalization movements in light of contemporary anthropological thought, a process initiated by recent ethnohistorical studies (Harkin 2004c).

THE VALUE OF MATERIAL CULTURE IN REVITALIZATION STUDIES
The investigation of revitalization via the archaeological record affords an opportunity to reinvigorate the study of these enigmatic social movements with new sources of data. A materially-based perspective allows for the examination of revitalization movements from the bottom up, through the actions of nonelites, rather than (or in addition to) the top-down, elitecentered approach favored by many historical studies. The official records of revitalization movements tend to focus on the tenets of these campaigns that were espoused by charismatic leaders, often assuming that all adherents ascribed equally and completely to these directives. As a result, previous studies have had a propensity to concentrate on the reported speech of these prophets, limited as they are by the primary (textual) source materials at their disposal.
However, the examination of everyday material culture opens a new window onto the actions of the proselytes of these movements, which can sometimes result in significantly different interpretations of revitalizing events. Furthermore, material culture offers a fresh approach to the study of revitalization movements by providing a diachronic perspective on these instances of rapid culture change.
Many previous studies of revitalization share a common interest in the causes of these movements with less attention paid to their effects. This focus has resulted in the widespread perception that these movements are fleeting and temporary instruments of change, anomalies in the long span of cultural evolution (White 1949:279). The varied strategies and social actions involved in their deployment, as well as the outcomes of these movements, have not attracted commensurate consideration, in turn minimizing anthropological appreciation of the enduring impacts of revitalization. But revitalization movements are not always synchronic, flash-in-thepan events. Whether ultimately achieving their desired ends or not, the consequences of these movements are often apparent long after the initial fervor of revitalization has subsided and its organizational structure disbanded, particularly in the realm of material culture (Liebmann and Preucel 2007). What follows is an examination of the materiality of a historically documented revitalization movement: the Pueblo Revolt of 1680.

THE PUEBLO REVOLT REVITALIZATION MOVEMENT
In the late 1670s, a charismatic holy man named Po'pay emerged from a kiva, proclaiming that he had received a revelation from three spirits with the power to emit fire from their fingertips The Pueblo Revolt of 1680 displays all the classic characteristics of a revitalization movement: pre-existing stresses, of an environmental (Ivey 1994;Parks et al. 2007), cultural (Anderson 1985), and demographic (Palkovich 1994;Ramenofsky 1996) nature; the emergence of a charismatic leader preaching a message of nativism and revivalism delivered through supernatural revelation (Sando and Agoyo 2005); development of a core group of followers who spread the prophet's message to the wider public (Riley 1999:219); and, ultimately, the successful transformation of Pueblo cultures and communities . Indeed, the changes instituted by Po'pay's revitalization movement had lasting effects for generations to follow, particularly in the realm of material culture.
These changes are especially apparent in the archaeological record of the Jemez Province of north-central New Mexico (Figure 1). 2 The Jemez Province has been the home to the Towaspeaking communities west of the Rio Grande-the Jemez people-from at least the early 14thcentury down to the present day (Elliott 1986;Ellis 1956;Kulisheck 2005;Liebmann 2006:117-119;Reiter 1938). A recurring center of indigenous resistance throughout the Spanish colonial period, this region was a primary hub of revitalization during the Pueblo Revolt era. Between  (Liebmann 2006) and form the core of the study presented herein.

Materializing Revivalism and Creating Tradition
Following the successful expulsion of the Spanish colonists and their sympathizers from the Pueblo world, Po'pay and his retinue toured the villages of the northern Rio Grande and encouraged the newly-freed Pueblos to enact his message of nativism and revivalism. Pueblo men captured by the Spaniards in 1681 testified that Po'pay had -ordered everyone to smash and burn the images of Christ, the Virgin and saints, the crosses and everything having to do with Christianity; to burn the churches, smash the bells . . . that in this way they would live as they had in ancient times‖ (De Marco 2000:416). Many of the Pueblos heeded Po'pay's call, sacking and destroying mission churches throughout New Mexico between 1680 and 1681 (Liebmann 2006:107-109). At the Jemez pueblo of Walatowa, the residents destroyed the church of San Diego de la Congregaciòn (Kessell et al. 1995(Kessell et al. :113, 1998 and burned the mission village to the ground (Bloom and Mitchell 1938:108). With the Spaniards gone, the Jemez moved a few miles to the north, where they constructed a new village named Patokwa by late 1681 (Liebmann 2006:158; Figure 2). Within the next two years a second pueblo, known as Boletsakwa, was constructed on a high mesa six miles to the east, as confirmed by tree-ring data recovered from roof beams (Liebmann 2006:242; Figure 3).

[FIGURE 2 ABOUT HERE] [FIGURE 3 ABOUT HERE]
The builders of these new villages clearly utilized corresponding arrangements of architectural units, resulting in pueblos with strikingly similar spatial organization. The compact, plaza-oriented plans of Patokwa and Boletsakwa were a significant departure from the dispersed layout of the mission pueblo that the Jemez had occupied prior to the Revolt of 1680. No maps of that village exist today, but Spanish documents state that it had been constructed-by the Spaniards-50 years prior (Morrow 1996:29) and consisted of numerous scattered and unconnected room blocks (Kessell et al. 1995:203). 3 After destroying this mission pueblo in the wake of the Revolt, the Jemez employed more aggregated, contiguous architectural plans when they constructed Patokwa and Boletsakwa. The design of these villages was not an entirely new, post-Revolt innovation; it was, rather, a resumption of the compact architectural styles that had been utilized at ancestral Jemez pueblos prior to Spanish colonization (Figure 4), materially embodying the nativism and revivalism espoused by Po'pay. Nativism (defined as the elimination of foreign elements) was here manifested through the rejection of the dispersed architectural plan of the mission pueblo, and conversely revivalism (the introduction of cultural practices thought to have been characteristic of previous generations but not recently present in a social group [Wallace 1956:267]) was materialized through the return to aggregated, compact village forms. It comes as no surprise that the structures of Patokwa and Boletsakwa played a role in the creation of nativism and revivalism after the Revolt, as Po'pay is reported to have specifically implicated the construction of new architecture in his revitalizing discourse (De Marco 2000:404, 412, 419).

[FIGURE 4 ABOUT HERE]
Although the spatial organization of Patokwa and Boletsakwa appear to have played a role in Jemez revitalization, the Pueblos did not in fact return to -live as they had in ancient times‖ (De Marco 2000:416) after the Revolt as Po'pay had prophesied. Rather, Pueblo people-and particularly the Jemez-constructed new forms of material culture in the wake of the Revolt that resourced and referenced their perceptions of pre-Hispanic times but did not replicate them directly. This creation of tradition is common to revivalistic revitalization movements, which often espouse images of the past that include novel innovations (Wallace 1956:276). Here I use the phrase -creation of tradition‖ in contrast to Eric Hobsbawm's (1983) -invented tradition,‖ which is sometimes taken to mean traditions fabricated from whole cloth, without prior antecedents (Sahlins 1999:403).
This creation of tradition is clearly evident in the emphasis on duality expressed through the architecture of Patokwa and Boletsakwa. Both villages are comprised of two plazas bisected by a central room block with two associated kivas. 4 This form was also employed at another Revolt-era site, Kotyiti, which was constructed by a different ethnolinguistic Pueblo group between 1681 and 1691 and is located within a day's walk of the Jemez Province (Preucel 2000a(Preucel , 2000b(Preucel , 2006Preucel et al. 2002;Snead and Preucel 1999). The repetition of the dualplaza, dual-kiva pattern among these three Revolt-era pueblos ( Figure 5) suggests that their similarity is more than a mere coincidence. The interpretation of this repeated form can be grounded in the semiotic theories of Charles Sanders Peirce (1992), who notes that meanings are transmitted by signs through resemblance and repetition (iconicity), spatiotemporal connection (indexicality), or social convention (symbolism). The dual-plaza pattern is, in semiotic terms, iconic (Peirce 1992:143-144): that is, a sign whose meanings are grounded in mimesis, or the repetition of formal resemblance. Revivalist discourses commonly employ iconic signs because icons rely on replication to transmit meaning, inherently referencing the past (Keane 2003:414).
The material culture of the Pueblo Revolt revitalization movement was no exception, as exemplified by the repetition of the iconic dual-plaza form of Patokwa, Boletsakwa, and Kotyiti.
This shared architectural pattern also transmits meaning through its indexical properties, by -pointing to‖ a relationship among this architecture, the inhabitants of these villages, and the concept of duality. The two-plaza, two-kiva pattern repeated among these pueblos is an index of the importance of duality to the people who built and occupied them.

[FIGURE 5 ABOUT HERE]
A semiotic interpretation of this duality notes that the significance of this pattern is not just that it may have reproduced an idea in the heads of those who lived there or that it conjures notions of balance and symmetry for modern Pueblo peoples (Ortiz 1969:13-28). Rather, as Peirce notes, material signs have social consequences, giving rise to and transforming people's actions (Keane 2005:186), which is a key aspect of modern theories of materiality as well. The two-plaza, two-kiva plans of these villages probably organized their inhabitants into complementary halves, an architectural pattern which has long been interpreted as an index of moietal social organization in Pueblo archaeology (Fowles 2005;Hill 1970:36;Vivian 1970:80-82). Communities utilizing a dual system of social organization require physical space in which the two groups (or their representatives) can perform their respective activities (Lowell 1996:82), and in the Rio Grande Pueblos this organization is commonly manifested through architecture (Fowles 2005:28-29;Ortiz 1979:281;Parsons 1929:91). By analogy to modern Keres and Jemez pueblos, the duality evident at Patokwa, Boletsakwa, and Kotyiti likely indexes a social division partitioned into the Turquoise and Pumpkin moieties, or possibly the two Jemez men's societies, the Eagle and the Arrow (Ellis 1964:11).
This construction of dual-plaza pueblos by the Jemez was not a resumption of an earlier practice but, rather, an example of the creation of tradition. Although the large pre-Hispanic pueblos of the Jemez Province were compact and plaza oriented, no Jemez village utilized the distinctive twin-plaza layout prior to 1680 (see Figure 4). Thus, regardless of the specific iconic meanings that this dual-plaza plan evoked for the residents of these villages, this spatial organization did not directly reproduce pre-Hispanic Jemez architectural plans in any straightforward way. 5 Indeed, there is no clear evidence in the archaeological record of the Jemez Province to suggest that the concept of duality was an important organizing principle in pre-Hispanic Jemez culture at all. More likely, moietal social organization and an emphasis on duality was introduced to the Jemez Province in the wake of the Revolt of 1680, either through Tewa influence (possibly directly from Po'pay himself) or by the Keres refugees from Santo Domingo Pueblo who lived side-by-side with the Jemez at Boletsakwa (Kessell et al. 1995(Kessell et al. :416, 445, 1998. Furthermore, Jemez oral tradition records that the moietal pattern was

Heterogeneity and the Negotiation of Revitalization
Not everyone in the Pueblo world chose to utilize architecture in the mediation of revitalization in the same ways that the Jemez did, however. In at least seven other Pueblo villages that were constructed anew between 1681 and 1694, the builders chose not to employ the dual-plaza pattern (Liebmann et al. 2005:52). Additionally, while some Pueblos destroyed churches and Spanish paraphernalia in 1680, others opted to ignore or even curate the trappings of Christianity in the wake of the Revolt (Hackett andShelby 1942a:21, 1942b:260;Kessell and Hendricks 1992:549-550). These heterogeneous responses demonstrate that Pueblo reactions to Po'pay's revitalization discourse were not unitary, providing a caveat for archaeologists seeking to identify episodes of revitalization via material culture. The archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt emphasizes the fact that these movements are not monolithic processes with uniform expressions and that responses of nonelites to the charismatic leaders of revitalization movements are often negotiated and diverse.
Coterminous with the creation of the dual-plaza pueblos in the wake of the Revolt was a radical shift in Jemez ceramic production: one also characterized not by replication but by innovation. From the mid-14th century until 1680, the dominant decorated ware at ancestral Jemez pueblos was a distinctive matte-painted pottery known as Jemez Black-on-white (Elliott 1991:80;Lambert 1981;Reiter 1938:103). However, rather than continuing the production of this distinctive marker of Jemez ethnic identity after 1680, as might be expected considering Po'pay's revivalist discourse, the potters of Patokwa and Boletsakwa made an intentional break with tradition, ceasing the manufacture of traditional black-on-white pottery almost completely following the Revolt. In its place the Jemez embraced new ceramic types: trade with neighboring regions increased dramatically, as evidenced by striking increases in quantities of Tewa ceramics and Rio Grande Glazewares (Liebmann 2006:360-361), and Jemez women began to produce a new type of pottery, Historic Red (Liebmann 2006:343-344; Figure 6). This intentional break with tradition is particularly surprising considering Po'pay's revivalist discourse that encouraged the Pueblos to -live in accordance with the law of their ancestors‖ (De Marco 2000:419;Hackett and Shelby 1942b:248). Furthermore, potters in other Pueblo villages-including Kotyiti-did in fact revive archaic ceramic traditions after 1680 (Capone and Preucel 2002;Mills 2002:95), again emphasizing the heterogeneous and negotiated nature of Pueblo responses to Po'pay's revitalization discourse.
Clearly the termination of the Jemez black-on-white tradition was not associated with revivalism. Ironically, it seems instead to have been influenced by the nativistic component of the Revolt-era revitalization movement (i.e., Po'pay's demand that all Spanish influence be purged from the Pueblo world). Although this seems at first counterintuitive, European influence is known to have affected the production of Jemez Black-on-white at 17th-century Jemez mission pueblos. Excavations have unearthed a number of Jemez Black-on-white artifacts exhibiting Spanish-introduced forms, including soup plates, cups, candlestick holders, a nearly complete chalice, and a Christian cross (Lambert 1981), as well as vessels with Christian motifs and other European-influenced design elements (Elliott 1991:81). The termination of black-onwhite ceramics at Patokwa and Boletsakwa following the Revolt may have been a response to the appropriation of this type by Franciscan missionaries. That is, Jemez women had recently been forced to produce European and ecclesiastical forms of Jemez Black-on-white ceramics, and at the time of the Pueblo Revolt they may have associated the production of this type of pottery more with Spanish colonialism than with pre-Hispanic tradition. Thus, following the calls of Po'pay to expunge their world of Spanish influence, Jemez potters drastically reduced the manufacture of the type they had previously been forced to make into foreign accoutrements.
Jemez oral traditions support this interpretation, asserting that the manufacture of black-on-white pottery was intentionally terminated during the Revolt era in a direct response to Spanish influences (Whatley and Delaney 1995:207). Similar nativistic responses transformed Zuni ceramic production during the Revolt era as well (Mills 2002:93). Again, this demonstrates the negotiated nature of nonelite responses to Po'pay's calls for revitalization: while some Pueblo women (including those at Kotyiti) chose to revive archaic motifs following the Revolt (Capone and Preucel 2002;Preucel 2006:233-238), the women of Jemez materialized revitalization by ceasing the production of archaic ceramic types entirely.

Materiality and the Mediation of Revitalization
Material culture does not just passively reflect the thoughts and actions of revitalizing communities, however. The concept of materiality draws attention to the ways in which objects mediate social processes: that is, to the active roles of things in the construction of cultural formations. This dynamic character of material culture is evident in one of the heretofore underemphasized effects of revitalization movements: their propensity to bring together previously disparate groups. Material culture plays a vital role in this unification, mending the seams among formerly discrete social entities. And in fact, material culture played an essential role in mediating Po'pay's revitalization discourse following the Pueblo Revolt as well, aiding in the creation of new, pan-Pueblo identities and innovative forms of social organization by emphasizing similarities and shared aspects of culture among the previously distinct ethnolinguistic groups that the Spaniards had lumped together under the designation -Pueblos.‖ Colonial Spaniards developed and deployed the ethnic category of -indios de pueblos‖ in New Mexico in order to differentiate the sedentary agriculturalists of the northern Rio Grande from their nomadic neighbors, as well as maintaining a boundary between colonizer and colonized that served to naturalize power asymmetries . While this label masked the differences that existed among the Pueblos (who at the time spoke at least seven mutually unintelligible languages with multiple dialects), Po'pay appropriated this category to mobilize the disparate communities of New Mexico against their common enemy. In so doing, he hoisted the Spaniards on their own petard, using the ethnic category introduced by the foreigners to forge political unity and foster collective resistance in 1680. Material culture facilitated the construction of this pan-Pueblo identity by emphasizing shared cultural traits through the new patterns in architecture and ceramics that were developed after the Revolt.
The unification of the Pueblos under Po'pay's revitalizing discourse occurred hand-inhand with a dramatic increase in Pueblo migration in the years following the Revolt (Herr and Clark 1997). Whole communities vacated their mission pueblos and established new -refugee‖ villages after 1680 (Schroeder 1972), including Patokwa and Boletsakwa, among others (Liebmann et al. 2005). These communities initiated a new form of settlement composed of people from several different, often linguistically diverse home villages. Spanish documents indicate that while Patokwa was inhabited primarily by the Towa-speaking Jemez, people from (Keres-speaking) Santo Domingo Pueblo and Navajos were lodged there as well (Kessell and Hendricks 1992:521-522); Boletsakwa was occupied by people from both Jemez and Santo Domingo (Kessell et al. 1995: 416, 445); and the population of Kotyiti was comprised of residents from the Keres pueblos of Cochiti, San Felipe, and San Marcos (Kessell and Hendricks 1992:515) and probably Tewa-speaking refugees as well (Preucel 2006:232).
The iconic dual-plaza layouts of these villages emphasized the similarities shared among the various different groups living at these new pueblos, even if some of these social formations were recent innovations (e.g., the concepts of duality and moietal social organization for the Jemez). In fact, it makes sense that moieties would have flourished in the wake of the Revolt as dual forms of social organization commonly arise in settlements that aggregate multiple groups into a single community (Fowles 2005:39-40;Lowie 1948:247;Smith 1960:39-40).
Furthermore, the new ceramic types adopted by the Jemez in the wake of the Revolt blurred the long-held boundaries they had created and maintained with their neighbors through the previous centuries (Ford et al. 1972;Graves and Eckert 1998). The Historic Red pottery manufactured by Jemez women after the Revolt was also produced at Keres pueblos during this era (Liebmann 2006:354-370), reinforcing similarities among these neighboring regions. Jemez potters adopted this red ware, sometimes adding their traditional matte-painted decorations to these vessels as well, producing innovative types in an expression of newfound pan-Pueblo identities. Common stylistic motifs were also utilized to blur long-held linguistic-ethnic boundaries in the wake of the Revolt, as evidenced by the ubiquity of shared motifs and matte-painted polychromes among Zuni, Western Keres, Eastern Keres, Tewa, and Jemez pueblos (Capone and Preucel 2002;Liebmann 2006:342-355;Mills 2002:95;Preucel 2006:234-238). As Barbara Mills (2002:95) notes, these shared motifs and ceramic technologies supply evidence for the development of a -region-wide stylistic horizon,‖ suggesting -a unity that cross-cuts language groups and other important social differences among the Pueblos‖ in the wake of the Revolt. In this way, ceramics and architecture played a vital-and active-role in the creation and mediation of Po'pay's revitalization movement by emphasizing shared traits that helped to cultivate new pan-Pueblo identities.
The formation of pan-Pueblo identities and the increased mobility of Pueblo peoples in the 1680s and 1690s also fostered dramatic changes in trade among the Pueblos, as demonstrated by the ceramic assemblages of Patokwa and Boletsakwa. Not only did these factors promote exchange and the sharing of ceramic technologies, but also the use of common ceramic types and motifs among spatially segregated pueblos would have served as visible signs of shared pan-Pueblo identities among these communities: not just reflecting similarities but actively cultivating a sense of common identity. In the same way, the correspondence in layout of the dual-plaza pueblos likely served to foster a sense of pan-Pueblo community among travelers moving among these various refugee villages. As Pueblo people visited neighboring communities during this era, the similarities they experienced through the shared materiality of revitalization would have actively promoted the notion of pan-Pueblo unity. Thus, the distinctive types of material culture produced in the aftermath of the Pueblo Revolt were not epiphenomenal of Po'pay's nativism and revivalism; rather, the dual-plaza pueblos and new ceramic types were crucially constitutive of revitalization processes, recursively shaping the creation of new, pan-Pueblo identities.

CONCLUSION
The archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt era provides a useful template for initial investigations of the material signs of revitalization movements. One of the primary contributions of this study has been to emphasize the novelty inherent in the material culture of revitalization. In the Jemez Province, new settlement plans, patterns of ceramic production, and community interactions during the Revolt era all departed from pre-1680 practices. The creative nature of this materiality should come as no surprise, as ethnohistorians have long recognized that revitalization movements cultivate innovation, rather than the replication of past practices. Wallace himself identifies innovation as one of the primary consequences of revitalizing rituals, noting its role in such famous examples as the Ghost Dance, the Handsome Lake religion, and the Native American Church (Wallace 1966:209-210). Furthermore, recent archaeological studies of the role of social memory in communal action (the basis of most revivalist discourse) stress its variable, mutable, and selective nature (Golden 2005:271;Hodder and Cessford 2004:31;Mills 2004:238;Van Dyke and Alcock 2003:2-3), suggesting that we should not expect antiquated forms of material culture to (re)appear unaltered in the course of revitalization. Yet the few archaeological studies that have previously applied the revitalization movement model (Ashmore and Sharer 1975;Bradley 1996;Dahlin 1976Dahlin , 1986Fry 1985;Preucel 2000a;Scott 1991;Turnbaugh 1979) have often been premised on the identification of relatively straightforward indicators of revivalism, such as the resumption of archaic forms of material culture. While clear-cut signs of a return to -tradition‖ can sometimes be found in revitalizing communities, ethnohistorical studies suggest that revitalization movements typically produce far more ambiguous patterns (Wagner 2006:109;Wallace 1966:209-210), a phenomenon that is also apparent in the architecture and ceramics of the Jemez Revolt-era pueblos. This observation is imperative for the future assessment of revitalization movements in the archaeological record (particularly in contexts lacking supporting textual documentation). If investigators continue to rely exclusively on the unambiguous resumption of archaic forms to identify these movements in the archaeological record, many past instances of revitalization will undoubtedly continue to be overlooked.
Furthermore, the material culture produced in the aftermath of the Pueblo Revolt illustrates the heterogeneous and negotiated nature of revitalization movements. Classic studies of revitalization have sometimes portrayed the devotees of these movements as obedient and anonymous disciples who unquestioningly and uniformly complied with the directives of charismatic leaders. But as the archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt demonstrates, the actions of the followers of these movements often vary significantly and frequently diverge from the edicts of movement leaders. Pueblo people clearly negotiated the practices of revitalization in 17thcentury New Mexico, choosing to enact the doctrines of Po'pay in different ways in different places. While some Pueblo groups chose to construct dual-plaza pueblos in the 1680s, others did not. And while some Pueblo women revived archaic pottery designs as per Po'pay's orders, the women of Jemez adopted entirely new ceramic traditions, mobilizing innovative forms. A focus on materiality draws attention to the central role these nonelite people-and the artifacts they create-play in recursively shaping revitalization phenomena. In contrast to the official doctrines of revitalization movements, material culture demonstrates the heterogeneous nature of revitalization processes and the fact that these movements are negotiated and constructed from the bottom up as well as the top-down.
Finally, the archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt revitalization movement demonstrates that the distinctive types of material culture produced by these phenomena are not just passive reflections of revitalization ideologies; rather, they are active in and constitutive of culture change. Revitalization movements cannot and do not exist in the absence of distinctive forms of material culture, exemplified by the unique ceramics and architecture of the Revolt era.
Moreover, these innovative objects play essential roles in the organization, legitimation, and performance of revitalization phenomena. In the case of the Pueblo Revolt, new pan-Pueblo identities were forged through the creation of material culture which emphasized the similarities among previously disparate ethnolinguistic groups. Thus, while Wallace famously characterized revitalization movements as the -rapid acceptance of a pattern of multiple innovations‖ by members of a social group (1970:188, emphasis added), an examination of materiality compels a slight revision of this definition. The archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt suggests that these phenomena are more correctly defined as -the rapid creation of a pattern of multiple innovations,‖ recognizing the active part played by common people in their construction, as well the crucial role of materiality in the formation and mediation of revitalization movements.     Boletsakwa; (C) Kotyiti. Patokwa is shown as it appeared between 1681 and early 1694. In late 1694, three of the four open corners were sealed by Spanish forces, and a mission church was constructed in the northwest corner (Kessell et al. 1998:335).  (Reiter 1938) and Giusewa (Elliott 1991;Lambert 1981); Post-Revolt data from Patokwa and Boletsakwa.