In the vast tapestry of human history, certain artifacts and stories stand out, whispering tales of ritual, transformation, and the sacred. Two such narratives—one from 16th-century Tartary and another from ancient western Mexico—offer a glimpse into the lives of people who used objects and symbols to bridge the human and the divine. At first glance, Aura Soltana, the “Last Woman of Tartaria,” and the Colima culture’s ceramic dancer wearing a removable crocodile helmet seem worlds apart. Yet, both embody the universal human impulse to connect with something greater through performance and symbolism. Let’s explore these stories, weaving together the enigmatic Aura with the ancient dancer preserved at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston.

Aura Soltana: The Last Woman of Tartaria

In the 16th century, a young Tatar woman named Aura Soltana (also known as Ipolitan the Tartarian) crossed continents, from the steppes of Astrakhan to the court of Queen Elizabeth I. Brought to England in 1561 by explorer Anthony Jenkinson, she was a product of the brutal slave trade of the time, where a “Nagayan Tartar slave” cost as little as a loaf of bread. Baptized and gifted luxurious items like a gold chain and black taffeta gowns, Aura became a unique figure in the Elizabethan court. Her presence symbolized England’s growing reach into the mysterious region of Tartary—a vast, loosely defined area spanning Central Asia to Siberia, home to Turkic and Mongol peoples like the Tatars.

By the 1500s, Tartary’s nomadic khanates were waning under Russian and Ottoman expansion, making Aura a poignant symbol of a fading world. Her story ends abruptly after 1569, leaving her fate unknown. In modern times, she’s been romanticized as the “Last Woman of Tartaria,” especially in conspiracy circles that imagine Tartary as a lost, advanced empire erased by a global cover-up. These myths, fueled by misread maps and pseudohistorical claims like the “mud flood,” lack evidence but amplify Aura’s mystique. Her real story—of enslavement, adaptation, and resilience—speaks louder than the fiction.

The Colima Dancer: A Crocodile’s Power

Half a world away and over a millennium earlier, the Colima culture of ancient western Mexico (300 BC–300 AD) crafted a remarkable ceramic figure: a dancer wearing a removable crocodile helmet, now housed at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. This red clay sculpture, part of the region’s tradition of detailed funerary art, wasn’t mere decoration. Buried with the dead, such figures were believed to protect or guide souls in the afterlife, embodying spiritual power and cultural meaning.

The crocodile helmet is the heart of this piece’s story. In Mesoamerican cultures, crocodiles were sacred, tied to water, earth, and the underworld. A dancer donning such a helmet likely took on the animal’s strength, perhaps as a warrior, shaman, or performer in a ritual. The helmet’s removability suggests transformation—a human becoming something more, embodying the divine or supernatural through performance. This act of wearing and removing the mask could mirror ceremonial dramas, where individuals channeled gods or spirits to connect the living with the cosmic.

Connecting the Threads: Ritual and Transformation

What unites Aura Soltana and the Colima dancer is the theme of transformation through ritual. Aura, displaced from her homeland, was thrust into a new role at Elizabeth’s court, adorned with gifts that marked her as both outsider and symbol. Her presence in England, far from Tartary’s steppes, was a kind of performance—a living emblem of exploration and cultural collision. Similarly, the Colima dancer’s removable crocodile helmet suggests a deliberate act of becoming, whether for battle, ceremony, or spiritual journey. Both stories reflect how humans use objects—be it a gold locket or a ceramic mask—to navigate identity and power in shifting worlds.

The crocodile dancer’s underworld connection parallels the mythologized Tartary, often seen as a “lost realm” in modern narratives. Just as the Colima buried their figures to guide the dead, Aura’s story has been buried in historical ambiguity, only to be resurrected as a symbol of a vanishing culture. Both evoke a sense of loss and mystery, yet their tangible remnants—court records for Aura, a ceramic figure for the Colima—ground us in their humanity.

Why These Stories Endure

Aura Soltana and the Colima dancer remind us of the enduring power of ritual objects and personal stories. Aura’s journey from enslavement to Elizabethan courtier challenges us to see the human behind the myth, while the Colima figure invites us to imagine the dances, chants, and beliefs of a people long gone. At the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, the crocodile dancer stands as a silent witness, just as Aura’s brief presence in history watches over us through scattered records.

The myths surrounding Tartaria may exaggerate, but they stem from a real desire to uncover hidden histories. Likewise, the Colima figure’s understated beauty belies its profound cultural weight. Together, they ask us to look closer—at the artifacts, the people, and the rituals that shaped their worlds.

A Colima Ceremonial Dancer with Crocodile Headdress

A rare solid figure of a dancer, earthenware with traces of polychrome pigment. The figure is leaning slightly forward and bending the knees, with his bent arms apart; each hand is wrapped in a mitt, and possibly he was once lifting a pair of rattles, as seen on some parallel statuettes. He is wearing an elaborate and finely modeled ceremonial attire, including a loincloth that is decorated with applied beads, leg disks, beaded bands around the upper arms and other ornaments on the chest and back. The most striking element of his attire is the headdress, which shows the snout of a crocodile with fierce interlocked teeth, and a tall crest of plumes.

During the Comala phase in Colima and in neighboring southern Jalisco, local traditions of small, solid figurines first seen in Ortices and Tuxcacuesco styles evolved into highly detailed figurines displaying complex ritual attire. Some of these had a headdress that was removable, and some functioned as a whistle from the top of the head, showing their intended ceremonial use.

For highly similar ceremonial dancers see Townsend, p. 22, figs. 11-12, p. 257, figs. 6, 7 and 9; also catalogue nos. 95 – 102, more specifically no. 99 for a dancer with a crocodile mask. Compare also Lynton, p. 90-91, fig. 26 (musicians and dancers with bird masks and helmets) and p. 92-93, fig. 27 (warrior with helmet).

A statuette of a dancer with a comparable headdress was sold at Sotheby´s New York, 16 May 2013, lot 17.

Literature:
Richard F. Townsend (ed.), Ancient West Mexico, Art and Archaeology of the Unknown Past (New York and London, Thames and Hudson; Chicago, The Art Institute of Chicago, 1998); Marion and Mark Lynton (eds.), Out of the Depths, Tomb Figures from West Mexico. Catalogue of an Exhibition, Rautenstrauch-Joest-Museum, Museum of Ethnography, July 4, 1986 through January 11, 1987 (Cologne, 1986).

Dating:
Mexico, Late Preclassic, ca. 300 B.C. – 300 C.E.

Size:
Height 39 cm.

Provenance:
Dutch private collection, acquired in 2002; before that in the collection of Raymond Minney, U.S.A., since the 1950s.

Condition:
Broken and reattached at waist with minor restoration over the break line; repair to arm; minor losses, especially to hands and objects held; some surface wear; mineral deposits. TL tested.

Want to explore more about ancient Mesoamerican art or the myths of Tartaria? Let me know, and I’ll dive deeper into the archives or museums for you!