The qeros (or keros), traditional ceremonial vessels of the Andean world, are among the most profound, ancient, and resilient material expressions of Indigenous spirituality. Their presence spans centuries of history, from pre-Inca times to their reconfiguration as popular art following colonial rupture. This collection of wooden qeros, dating from the 19th and 20th centuries, carries the traces of that long journey and allows us to hear, in carved silence, the echoes of a culture that never stopped offering a toast.

Sacred origins and ceremonial purpose

Long before the expansion of the Inca Empire, Andean peoples created ritual vessels meant for communal and sacred toasts. A qero was not just any cup — it was charged with cosmological meaning. It held chicha de maíz (corn beer), a sacred beverage par excellence, and was offered to Pachamama, the Sun, the ancestors, and the apus — the spirit guardians of the mountains — as an act of reciprocity, gratitude, and supplication. Every toast was preceded by invocations, songs, and prayers to the god Wiracocha, to the protective spirits, and to the fertile land that sustains life.

Qeros were traditionally made in pairs, reflecting the Andean principle of duality (male/female, sun/moon, above/below). Toasting with qeros was therefore an act of connection and balance between complementary opposites. One vessel was held by the host, while the other was offered to a guest — whether human or divine — thus sealing a symbolic and social alliance.

From Inca splendor to colonial persecution

During the Inca period, qeros reached a high degree of formal sophistication. They were made from fine woods, precious metals, or refined ceramics, richly decorated with mineral pigments and geometric or symbolic designs. Their use was exclusive to the Indigenous nobility and part of the ceremonial protocol of the Inca State — from agricultural festivals to solar cult rituals, funerals, and political alliances.

With the arrival of Spanish conquerors, however, this ritual universe was violently interrupted. The Crown and the Church, associating such toasts with idolatry and demonic pacts, banned the use and production of qeros — especially after the rebellion of Túpac Amaru II (1780–1781), when many symbolic expressions of Indigenous identity were criminalized. Thousands of qeros were destroyed. Those that survived were hidden away in homes, preserved as secret family relics of forbidden devotion.

Resistance, secrecy, and popular reconfiguration

It was precisely in this context of repression and secrecy that qeros re-emerged in new forms and became part of the popular art of rural communities. Once objects of noble splendor, they became rustic wooden cups, often carved by the very hands of their users. Stripped of their original pigments and simplified in form and ornamentation, qeros endured as silent emblems of resistance. They continued to be used in rituals such as pagos a la tierra (offerings to the earth), agricultural festivities, and domestic ceremonies — always away from the official gaze.

This collection of qeros from the 19th and 20th centuries bears witness to that process: sober forms, discreet carvings, the inclusion of animal figures (monkeys, reptiles), the absence of polychrome paint — and yet, their symbolic power remains intact. Popular art thus found in the qero a vessel through which to preserve ancient ceremonial gestures in new social conditions. Rural communities, stripped of their temples and public symbols, rebuilt their relationship with the sacred from within the intimacy of the home and the collective.

A ritual art rooted in popular tradition

Unlike other forms of popular art that arose in the 19th century — such as carved gourds, retablos, or stone sculptures — qeros were never intended as ornaments or decorative items. Their function was essentially ritual. These were objects activated through action: used to invoke, to offer thanks, to share, to remember. Their external beauty mattered less than the symbolic force they carried.

Even with the growth of markets and the arrival of tourism, qeros did not disappear. Unlike other handicrafts that adapted to urban or foreign consumption, the qero retained its place as a living vessel of Andean spirituality. In this way, it remains distinct: not a souvenir, but a vessel still in dialogue with the world that created it.


The qeros in this room are part of a living memory. They are witnesses to the continuity of a ceremonial practice that could not be extinguished — not by the sword, nor by the cross. They speak of a worldview grounded in reciprocity, balance, and communion between people, nature, and the divine. They remind us that to drink together is not only to quench thirst, but to affirm a bond: with each other, with the land, with ancestral time.