The Volcano Emerges

Dionisio Pulido observed something strange as he worked in his field on February 20, 1943. Earthquakes had shaken his little village of Parícutin for a few weeks, but that was not unusual for an area located on the west side of the volcanic strip that runs east–west across central México. As the earth trembled around him, Dionisio noticed smoke emitting from his field. Accounts say that as Dionisio’s farmhand plowed across a small crack in the earth’s surface, the plow caught in a crevice and it opened up. Three villagers, who later claimed to have witnessed the event, saw a hole in the ground expand from a smoking fissure after the plow passed over it.¹ Another account details that Pulido, his wife, and a friend were working in his plot when a depression in the land suddenly started rumbling and smoking. As the intensity increased, the smoke turned dark and explosions threw out chunks of volcanic rock.² The exact sequence of events may be lost to historical memory and folklore, but we do know that Dionisio realized that this was an unusual situation, so he ran back to his village to alert the people. No one guessed that a volcano would tower over the town only a few days later.

The townspeople in the villages of Parícutin and San Juan Parangaricutiro (San Juan) first recorded the fast-growing volcano on the day it erupted. Celedonio Gutiérrez, a resident of San Juan who later assisted the scientists that came into the area, reported that the volcano began its initial eruption at 4:30 p.m., although the official report states 4 p.m.³ Shortly after Dionisio Pulido alerted the villagers of San Juan, a group of men from the village went to investigate the area. One noted the immense dark column of smoke that stretched skyward and could be seen for miles only two hours after it began to erupt. At that point, observers guessed that the volcano was already about ten meters high.⁴ Residents of the area had gotten close enough to the mysterious volcano to estimate the size and height that scientists later recorded from oral accounts.⁵ San Juan Parangaricutiro resident Luis Ortíz Solorio described the scene from February 20, recalling that by about 6 p.m., “the earth had opened … and small stones, like incandescent marbles and oranges were being cast out from a vent that continued growing bigger.”⁶ Aurora Cuara, another resident from San Juan Parangaricutiro, noticed “incandescent bombs” and “incandescent stones … illuminated by lightning flashes” later that night.⁷ The townspeople were notably curious about and unafraid of the volcano as demonstrated by their desire to monitor it.

Ash and seismic activity extended beyond the Meseta Purépecha, the plateau along the west central part of the volcanic strip where Parícutin is located, and affected urban areas as well. The nearby urban city of Uruapan, located about twenty miles southeast of the volcano, experienced minor earthquakes in the weeks preceding Parícutin’s emergence. By the first weeks of March, the earthquakes grew stronger and a heavy layer of ash reached the city. Two residents suffered at the hands of this natural disaster when the roofs of their houses caved in. Luckily, no one was injured. Nevertheless, after this, residents of Uruapan slept on their porches out of fear of their houses falling on top of them due to the weight of the ash.⁸ In April, Parícutin was most energetic, sending ash as far as México City, about two hundred miles east. By this time, scientists, government authorities, and tourists were aware of the growing volcano.

The Cultural Influence of Volcanoes in México

While volcanoes are mainly abundant in the central volcanic belt of México, their cultural significance is national. Ash and lava flows from Parícutin only directly affected a small region, but the volano’s influence reached farther. Parícutin demonstrates how culture, which stems from the Purépecha region, expands and disseminates across the nation in stories, legends, and art through the story of the volcano. Simultaneously, traditional Aztec folklore regarding volcanoes surpasses the ethnic boundaries of central México and influences the Purépecha culture. Volcanoes remain salient in Mexican culture, and eruptions serve as a physical reminder of their lasting cultural influence. Culture is the interrelationship between language, local environment, social relationships, behavior, and beliefs. Volcanoes influence culture in several ways because by altering the environment; they reshape peoples’ relationships to the land and change their behavior.

Since the people living in the Central Highlands have experienced volcanic eruptions for as long as they have inhabited the area, the physical impact reminded them of eruption stories from past generations. Historian Laura Matthew studied social memory in her book about the invasion of Guatemala by the Spaniards and Mexicas and argued that landscape can be a mnemonic device. She states, “The content of the documents matter less than the physical, material connection they provide to real experiences of past generations.”⁹ Although volcanoes do not influence the Purépechas’s belief system to the same extent they do the Aztecs’, Parícutin serves as a physical reminder that landscape and seismic activity connect these cultures. Additionally, the production of cultural materials regarding Parícutin provide a physical connection to the national heritage of volcanic activity.

People in Mesoamerica coexisted alongside volcanoes for hundreds of years, and their folklore developed in conjunction with them. Anthropologist Eric Wolf aptly deemed the residents of Mesoamerica the “sons of the shaking earth” because they lived harmoniously in seismically active regions. Although his work focuses on the physical presence of both earthquakes and volcanoes, he demonstrates that volcanoes are symbolically present in national culture.¹⁰ This is evident in the folklore about the major volcanoes in México. Mexicans and people acquainted with México know the love story of Popocatépetl (el Popo) and Ixtlazíhuatl (la Ixtla), two volcanoes in the Central Highlands. Not only does el Popo loom over México City and spit out lava more actively than any other volcano in México, but it is also part of México’s cultural heritage.¹¹ The story of el Popo and la Ixtla personifies the mountains, describing them as an Aztec princess and a warrior, respectively, and provides an explanation as to why Popocatépetl erupts. Despite being a tale with Aztec origins, the cultural significance of el Popo and la Ixtla, in conjunction with all volcanoes in México, transcends specific ethnic groups and is retold by Mexicans across the nation. The physical presence of volcanoes among the largest cities in México means that they not only influence the environment but also contribute to culture.

Parícutin influenced people’s perspectives of the landscape and contributed to and reemphasized the significance of popular perceptions of volcanoes in the national culture. Active stratovolcanoes such as Popocatépetl and the Pico de Orizaba, the two tallest peaks in México, have a physical presence that reminds people of their cultural influence because they are larger and have been active over thousands of years.¹² The Meseta Purépecha, ranging from 6,900 to 12,660 feet in altitude, boasts the presence of about a thousand small extinct volcanoes.¹³ Since the volcanoes are inactive cinder cones, they appear as benign hills and do not serve as a physical reminder of the seismic activity common in the region. Parícutin is one of the longest erupting volcanoes of this type, surpassed only by its neighbor, el Jorullo, and several cinder cones in Asia.¹⁴ This rare and widely recorded occurrence has had a lasting impact. Parícutin is an important physical feature on the Michoacán landscape and remains a significant case study.

The Locals, Resettlement, and Religion

In the 14th century, Purépecha Indians settled the extended area around where Parícutin would erupt, which is now the state of Michoacán. The main Purépecha cities formed around Lake Pátzcuaro, east of Parícutin.¹⁵ They rivaled the Aztecs and controlled a large area concentrated in Michoacán.¹⁶ Legend has it that the people of San Juan Parangaricutiro, and possibly all the villages in the nearby highlands, established communities there in an attempt to get away from oppressive Spanish rule during the mid-16th century.¹⁷ During the colonial period, the Spanish did not want to settle the highlands, because, although composed of pine forests, small foothills, and extremely fertile land due to the history of volcanic eruptions, the land did not have mineral wealth.¹⁸ Thus, these communities had minimal contact with Spanish colonizers and preserved their language and traditions longer than other Purépecha communities in the lowlands and lake area.¹⁹ While the Spaniards allowed the Purépecha to pursue their own subsistence farming, they made sure to convert them to Catholicism. Nevertheless, certain aspects of their native religion persisted.²⁰

Religious beliefs played an important role in the story of Parícutin because they provide a means to explain the volcano. Almost all the folktales recorded by the anthropologists who studied the area in the 1940s and 1950s were related to Christianity, specifically the devil.²¹ This shows the strong connotation between the devil and something coming up from below. Even though the villagers used these explanations for the volcano, they did not see it as something evil but rather as a punishment that was due. The local priests aided this view by explaining it as the work of God and as a warning that should be heeded. Indeed, one folktale describes how God made a deal with the devil to create the volcano in order to punish his followers who sinned.²² In his reports on local explanations of the volcano, anthropologist Pedro Carrasco noted that the villagers passed along these folktales. Although they disseminated explanations related to sinful behavior, they commented that the scientists really knew what was going on.²³ Additionally, as reported by another anthropologist, Ralph Beals, many Purépecha people associated a malevolent spirit with the village of Parícutin.²⁴ The religious stories circulated after the volcano emerged, which indicates that people discussed the possibility of the volcano having supernatural origins.

The local people explained the disaster through references that combined both Catholic and local traditions. For instance, one folktale describes God sending the devil to create the volcano to punish the people.²⁵ Local Purépecha people in the village of Parícutin and San Juan Parangaricutiro thought the wrath of God created the volcano. Thus, some people believed they could save their villages by praying to God for forgiveness and help. They developed explanations of why the volcano emerged close to the village of Parícutin. In February 1941, two years before the volcano emerged, villagers erected a cross on land that they believed theirs in response to a land dispute. Gutiérrez, a resident of San Juan, claimed that the cross was only placed there to commemorate a religious celebration, but other accounts say that it marked where a man had been murdered in a land dispute. Men from the village of Parícutin removed the cross and burned it because they thought it was an attempt to take over their land. Many believed that the volcano developed near Parícutin because of this sacrilegious act and continued public drunkenness at local celebrations.²⁶ Additionally, a year before the development of the volcano, the villagers thought God sent a warning sign to the people in the area through a plague of locusts that destroyed their crops.²⁷ Despite this warning, God remained angry and summoned the volcano. They understood it as punishment for disorderly and sacrilegious conduct.²⁸

The people of San Juan de Parangaricutiro maintained their strong religious beliefs throughout the development of the volcano. Torivio Sandoval, a resident who refused to leave, had been confident that God would keep the town safe. The local priest, Father Don Javiar García, acted as a cultural translator and explained that it was all part of God’s will but the townspeople needed to help themselves and move to resettlement areas.²⁹ Eager to remain in their community, they erected several crosses at the edge of their cemetery, but it was too late.³⁰ Although the lava slowly consumed the cemetery and the crosses, the community salvaged their beloved shrine of the Christ of the Lord of Miracles. The shrine attracted pilgrims from across México and the people threw a celebration in honor of it each year on September 14. People venerating the shrine prayed for cures for the sick, but residents also believed that it could save them from the volcano.³¹

After the eruption, ash fall and advancing lava flows made it difficult for villagers in the vicinity of Parícutin to carry on life as usual. During the first year and a half of activity, ash weighed down structures and made agriculture nearly impossible. The volcano affected animals, and many of the villagers’ livestock perished from inhaling volcanic fumes or eating vegetation covered in volcanic ash.³² Crops could not grow due to the ash cover that buried plants and caused fungus to develop.³³ Additionally, it weighed down tree branches, caused foliage to thin out and branches to fall down, eventually killing many trees.³⁴ The typical means of subsistence that the surrounding villages relied upon were severely jeopardized.

Upon the suggestion of scientists, the village of Parícutin permanently evacuated in early June 1943.³⁵ The villagers moved to Caltzontzin, a former hacienda about 3.5 miles east of Uruapan. Several months later, in October 1943, some residents of San Juan de Parangaricutiro and Zirosto moved to Villa Silva, the former hacienda Las Animas.³⁶ As villagers crowded the area, tensions broke out over the limited agricultural land available. Farmers who had been living there sensed overcrowding and killed the secular leaders.³⁷

By the time the lava flow reached San Juan, another resettlement area was ready, called Rancho de Los Conejos, and residents completely evacuated by May 11, 1944.³⁸ The residents of Rancho de Los Conejos later renamed it Nuevo San Juan Parangaricutiro. After much debate, and protest by some of the villagers, the bishop removed the shrine of the Christ of the Lord of Miracles on May 9, 1944 while the village evacuated. The devoted followed the shrine all the way to where they resettled, and the priest placed it in a temporary small chapel in Rancho Los Conejos (now, San Juan Nuevo).³⁹ The procession with the shrine passed through Uruapan, and people came out to praise the Christ of the Lord of Miracles. Some say that one of the shrine’s miracles is the resettlement of San Juan, since it was less traumatic than the village of Parícutin.⁴⁰ By early July 1944, the lava reached the village church in the former San Juan but miraculously did not cover the alter or the church tower.⁴¹

Resettlement was not easy in the communities near the volcano, and residents of the affected communities had different feelings and reactions to it. Some villagers left before the mandatory resettlement because they had opportunities elsewhere. Many villagers from nearby Zirosto moved to urban areas around the country, and some men from the surrounding villages took advantage of the Bracero Program and left to find work in the United States.⁴² The national government orchestrated resettlement and made sure everyone in Parícutin and San Juan Parangaricutiro evacuated, despite protest from elderly villagers. Former president Lázaro Cárdenas, serving as the minister of national defense, visited San Juan to persuade people to relocate their village.⁴³ During evacuations, some old-timers were reluctant to leave, pronouncing that they would rather get buried by lava than abandon their home.⁴⁴ In his memoir, Celedonio Gutiérrez recalled the case of Torivio Sandoval, who proclaimed that he would never leave San Juan: eight days later, he accidently drowned in a flash flood. Unfortunately, Sandoval got his wish, as he was the last person to be buried in the village’s cemetery before it was covered by lava.⁴⁵ Another woman refused to evacuate her newly constructed house because she had put everything she had into it. Her neighbors forced her to vacate as her house burned.⁴⁶ Unwillingness to leave demonstrates people’s connection to the land and physical environment. Villagers did not perceive the volcano as a threat, and some even thought that they would be able to stop the advancing flow of lava through prayer.

The local population grew to consider the volcano as theirs and were not afraid of it after an initial fatalistic reaction. Indeed, by the end of February 1943, local residents served as guides for waves of tourists that came to see the volcano that grew out of a cornfield.⁴⁷ Ordóñez noted that their losses “cannot be replaced no matter where they move and regardless of the facilities afforded them for their re-establishment in what they consider a foreign land.”⁴⁸ Like many traditional communities in México, they felt a connection to the land and despite the emergence of a volcano they still felt that bond. The community of Zacán demonstrates this. The government offered assistance to move the entire community to a former hacienda outside of Morelia, but the residents refused because they did not want to leave the Purépecha region and they were hesitant to leave the highlands where they knew how to cultivate the land.⁴⁹ They had intimate knowledge of the area and the volcano was just one more feature they claimed to understand. Even today, locals will offer tourists a guided tour of the dormant volcano, claiming that they know the “official story.”⁵⁰

Scientists Study the Volcano

Two days after the volcano emerged, leading Mexican geologist, Ezquiel Ordóñez, arrived at Parícutin from México City. Ordóñez was the first scientist to arrive on the scene to observe the new volcano. He served as representative geologist for the Comisión Impulsora y Coordinadora de la Investigación Científica de México.⁵¹ Ordóñez had led an international group to tour Parícutin’s older volcano sibling, el Jorullo, in 1906.⁵² El Jorullo, a cinder cone like Paríctuin, emerged on September 12, 1759 and erupted for fifteen years. It is located about sixty-two miles southeast of the site of Parícutin. Now completely covered in vegetation, el Jorullo looks as innocent as the other dormant volcanoes, but it was once as explosive as Parícutin. These volcanoes are comparable because they are both cinder cones, also called scoria cones, located on the flank of the inactive stratovolcano, Tencítaro. Like all cinder cones, they formed by the accumulation of volcanic matter issuing from a vent. Cinder cones rise up into small mountains in a matter of years, whereas most other volcanoes, including stratovolcanoes, form over thousands of years by shifting tectonic plates.⁵³ El Jorullo now stands 1,200 feet above ground level in a perfect truncated cone shape.⁵⁴ At its full height, Parícutin reached 9,215 feet above sea level, although it is only 1,391 feet above the field below.⁵⁵ This type of volcano is common to the area, although the appearance of them is uncommon in recorded history within the past hundred years.

Scientists came from the United States and México to study the volcano, working with the local people. Celedonio Gutiérrez, who left a detailed memoir, including information about the cultural impact of the volcano, also worked alongside scientists from the U.S. Geological Survey. He contributed to at least eight scientific publications based on daily observations, published as reports on the volcano in the weekly magazine Eos.⁵⁶ Gutiérrez spent more time observing Parícutin than anyone else, so it is no wonder that he served as the main informant for geological survey teams from México and the United States.⁵⁷

Experienced but elderly when Parícutin began erupting, Ordóñez made his way around the volcano using a walking cane, rather unsteadily at times.⁵⁸ Celedonio Gutiérrez remembered helping him scale the slopes of the volcano noting, “If it was possible for him to climb, someone would push him.”⁵⁹ Only two days after the volcano emerged, Ordóñez recorded the volcano as being 130 feet high.⁶⁰ He also initially noticed that “tremendous explosions were heard, ground tremors were felt frequently” and there was a small lava flow.⁶¹ Over the course of Parícutin’s life, Ordóñez and other scientists from México and the United States recorded the lava flows, eruption patterns, and ash fall, as well as noting the damage to the surrounding agricultural land.

Ordóñez recorded two years of observations about Parícutin in a beautiful volume, entitled Volcán de Parícutin and filled with photographs, drawings, and rich descriptions of the volcano. Despite his age, or maybe because of it, Ordóñez moved slower and made more detailed observations than other researchers. His work makes readers feel almost as if they are standing beside the active volcano when reading the vivid accounts about the colors of the lava flows, the movement of the dust, and the sounds emanating from below the surface. In this work, he included color sketches of the volcano that display the fountains of lava and the plumes of smoke. Ordóñez captured the changing landscape in striking photographs that other geologists used in their publications, but his most remarkable photographs were of the ash fall. He played with light and shadows to demonstrate the bleak landscape damaged by ash.⁶² Ordóñez died on February 8, 1950, and never saw the end of eruptions at Parícutin.⁶³ Fortunately, his contribution to scholarship on volcanoes and the culture surrounding them lives on.

Art, Advertisements, and Stories about the Volcano

Much of the documentation left by the scientists who studied Parícutin, such as film footage, photographs, drawings, and descriptions in scientific publications, serve as lasting reminders that volcanoes are physically and culturally relevant in México. Ordóñez and Dr. Atl, whose given name was Gerardo Murillo, produced the most notable artwork in combination with scientific reports and drawings. Their work helped affirm that the volcano was significant for scientific and cultural reasons.

Atl, an avid volcanologist, was enthusiastic about the development of Parícutin and turned the volcano into an artist’s model.⁶⁴ He had experience climbing, studying, and painting Popocatépetl, and had knowledge of volcanoes around the world. Thus, it was not a surprise when he disappeared from home a few days after Parícutin emerged. His friends and family later found him living in a wooden cabin at the base of the volcano.⁶⁵ He worked with the other scientists studying the volcano and collaborated with Dr. William Foshag, a geologist working for the U.S. National Museum. Atl produced sketches and compiled scientific data about Parícutin, which he published together in a monograph in 1950.⁶⁶ The sketches and paintings are captioned to explain what Atl witnessed. He sketched drawings to clarify particular things, such as the orientation of a lava flow or how the main vent functioned.⁶⁷ Atl’s color paintings provide more information than a caption or even a photograph because he experimented with different perspectives. The dark tones and heavy warm colors captured the fury and power of the volcano. Yet, in most of his color paintings, a soft grey foreground separates the volcano from the viewer, which leaves them feeling in awe of the powerful mountain, but not threatened.⁶⁸ The combination of artistic works and scientific analysis is exceptional, and his color paintings of Parícutin have become iconic. Atl is both an example who contributed to the symbolism of volcanoes in national culture and someone whose work Parícutin influenced. His published work demonstrates his passion for volcanoes, which he not only studied through a scientific lens, but also used for artistic inspiration.

Parícutin drew international interest because of its sudden emergence and easy access to view the activity. A Canadian Club whiskey advertisement, published in 1948, demonstrates the curiosity that people outside of México had about the new volcano. It also shows how other countries, such as the United States, associated volcanoes with Mexican culture. The ad shows what a U.S. citizen might think of as a typical scene in rural México: a Mexican man wearing a colorful serape and a broad-brimmed hat with a smoking volcano in the background. The captions describe the visit a “friend of Canadian Club” took to Parícutin, the seemingly exciting and dangerous volcano.⁶⁹ The goal of the ad was to demonstrate that this whiskey is found in unexpected places across the world, but it also piqued the interest of wealthy North American tourists looking for adventure. Then U.S. president Harry Truman was one of those tourists, and he took a flight over Parícutin in March 1947 during a diplomatic visit to México.⁷⁰

The U.S. media focused on the natural disaster as a catastrophic event when the volcano first began erupting. Magazines such as Life, Pageant, True, The Man’s Magazine, Harpers, and Arizona Highways also took advantage of the spectacle of Parícutin by publishing stories and images of it.⁷¹ The 1946 image spread of the volcano in Pageant demonstrated the destruction and loss caused by the volcano. It showed a procession of people evacuating carrying the Mexican flag.⁷² One caption in Pageant describes a woman’s dying husband while showing the image of a forlorn-looking woman with the exploding volcano in the background.⁷³ None of these stories explain that only three deaths can be associated with the volcano.⁷⁴ Years later, in 1952, Life published three pages of images with text describing how locals of the area brought U.S. tourists to get a close-up view of the active volcano.⁷⁵

Another example of the wide-reaching scope of Parícutin is a children’s story entitled Hill of Fire.⁷⁶ The book, written in English and published in the United States, describes the mundane life of a farmer in rural México until a volcano explodes from his cornfield. The storybook covers most of the main events and concludes with the farmer’s family moving to a bigger house and living a better life. Joan Sandin, the illustrator, visited Parícutin to make sketches and illustrations for the book that resemble the village of San Juan Parangaricutiro.⁷⁷ Published in 1971, well after the volcano was dormant, the book shows the continued interest that people had in this fascinating volcano and how they related it to Mexican culture. The conclusion describes how the community rebuilt itself to be better than before at a safe distance from the volcano. The final illustrations show the volcano in the distance, suggesting that it coexisted with the villagers and they all lived happily ever after.⁷⁸ Whether knowingly or not, the author and illustrator characterized Mexicans’ relationship with volcanoes in terms of mutual tolerance.

Other authors seized on the opportunity to write about the incredible volcano while it was still active. Bernice Goodspeed and Tom Galt created stories based on Parícutin. Published in 1946, Galt wrote a book for children telling the story of the volcano from the point of view of a Purépecha boy.⁷⁹ Goodspeed’s book, published in 1945, included embellishments and additions of Nahuatl names and symbols.⁸⁰ Using fictitious characters, Goodspeed drew upon local knowledge and memories of the event. She was trained in anthropology and had a personal interest in local traditions.⁸¹ The novel also contains hand-drawn illustrations by her husband, artist Carl Pappe. Both nonnatives of México, Goodspeed and Pappe produced work that gives insight into local historical memory of the event and how it was evaluated by them, the outside observers. While one was published in México and the other two were published in the United States, these three books demonstrate how the association of Mexican culture with volcanoes is perceived both inside and outside of México. From advertisements, to photo spreads in popular magazines, to children’s books, the story of Parícutin permeated U.S. culture in addition to contributing to Mexican culture.

Discussion of the Literature

While many scientists, academics, novelists, artists, and journalists have recorded and published about Parícutin, there are no scholarly publications that examine the larger cultural implications utilizing historical analysis. A comprehensive list of material published before 1950 regarding Parícutin is located in Robert T. Hatt’s bibliography. Anthropologists who visited the area during the 1940s published invaluable sources providing details about the Purépecha culture and the surrounding environment. Geographer John D. Rees and geologists Carl Fries Jr., Fred M. Bullard, William F. Foshag, James F. Luhr, and Tom Simkin have published extensively on Parícutin, focusing on the scientific aspect of the eruption. The textbook edited by James F. Luhr and Tom Simkin, Paricutin[sic]: The Volcano Born in a Mexican Cornfield, covers both social and geological aspects of the eruption by including a compilation of scientific reports and oral accounts of the volcano.

Mary Lee Nolan, a cultural geographer, studied the impact of the volcano on the five affected communities: San Juan Parangaricutiro, the village of Parícutin, Zirosto, Angahuan, and Zacán. She argues that each community reacted differently and that resettlement was not the same for each village. She also demonstrates that community development toward modernization occurred after the volcano, but the changes cannot be attributed directly to the volcano because the eruption of Parícutin happened during a time of technological change.⁸² In their resettlement, the villages of San Juan Parangaricutiro and Parícutin got better access to roads that connected to the urban center, Uruapan, which meant better access to education and technology such as electricity. Of course, moving to a new area was not a positive experience for everyone, and Nolan points out that resettlement took more lives than the volcano itself.⁸³ Most villagers were reluctant to leave unless they had family elsewhere who could take them in. This was their home and the land, now covered in ash and lava, was their livelihood.

Anthropologist Ralph Beals and geographer Robert West wrote ethnographies on the Purépecha people for the Smithsonian Institute in cooperation with a project of the Interdepartmental Committee on Cultural and Scientific Cooperation. West discusses the geography and climate of all the areas inhabited by Purépecha people. His work provides essential information on the local environment and the volcano. Beals focuses on one village, Cherán, and includes details on the folklore and superstitions related to the village of Parícutin. George Foster’s anthropological work on Tzintzuntzan provides contextual information about the Purépecha community in general. These anthropological studies help establish the cultural framework in which the volcano emerged although they are not specifically about the villages in the immediate vicinity of the volcano.

Volcanoes have shaped communities both physically and symbolically throughout history. Scholars James Hamilton and Karen Holmberg demonstrate how volcanoes have changed societies and influenced cultures around the world. Hamilton, an art historian, argues that while volcanoes inspire art, the unpredictable physical presence of volcanoes dominates the earth.⁸⁴ While briefly mentioning Parícutin and the work of Gerardo Murillo, (Dr. Atl), Hamilton’s work provides an example for how to combine discourse on volcanoes, art, and culture.⁸⁵ Holmberg uses landscape archaeology to look at one volcano in particular, while focusing on the changes to nearby societies over a long period of time.⁸⁶ As an archaeologist, Holmberg’s methodology provides an example of how to incorporate material artifacts and landscape into a discussion of Panamanian society. These two works lend to the methodology of incorporating material culture, such as photographs, into an analysis of Parícutin.

The emerging field of Latin American environmental history also provides guidance in the study of Parícutin. Historians Mark Cary and Charles Walker demonstrate how natural disasters or disaster zones are a useful framework for looking at cultural history because they show how people react to a changing environment. While Walker’s monograph on an earthquake in Lima focuses on the reconstruction efforts and how that changed community organization, the study of Parícutin allows for a focused study on the local interpretations of the volcano and how outside perspectives influenced them.⁸⁷ Much like Carey’s work on Andean populations reacting to global climate change, the story of Parícutin offers examples of the interconnectedness of social, cultural, and environmental history.⁸⁸ Emily Wakild’s book on Mexican national parks explains how the Post-Revolutionary government perceived the natural environment. Her work provides a context for the state’s involvement in Michoacán after Parícutin emerged.⁸⁹

Parícutin provides an opportunity to examine the cultural relationship between the Mexican people and a particular volcano from its birth, by looking back on nearly three quarters of a century worth of documents. In addition to reports, books, and photographs, there are abstract sources, such as persisting feelings of ownership and ties to the land surrounding the volcano, extracted from Celedonio Gutiérrez’s memoir and other villager’s accounts recorded in scientific reports. These help to establish the importance of volcanoes in Mexican culture in the context of one volcano in particular, Parícutin.