In recent decades colonial Latin American scholarship has moved beyond the overly simplified, binary construction of colonizer and colonized, presenting more nuanced views of the dynamic and sometimes contradictory interactions between diverse actors of colonial societies. C. Cody Barteet's book on the facade of the Casa de Montejo in Mérida, Yucatán, is one such study that considers colonial society as a space in flux, where individuals, institutions, and communities contested their autonomy and authority using visual forms as rhetorical tools for self-representation. The book considers a single architectural structure in the colonial capital of Yucatán as a point of reference to situate the interplay among social strata of colonial society within political, social, ethnic, and gendered contexts. From a strategic tool used by a Spanish governor to a reference for an elite Maya nobleman, Barteet presents the facade as an important site of adaptation, negotiation, and appropriation that served to elevate the social and political standings of diverse members of colonial society.

Specifically, the book argues that the first Spanish governor of Yucatán, Francisco de Montejo, designed the elaborate, plateresque facade to adorn his residence as a means of asserting political authority in response to his strained relationship with Spanish officials and the Crown. By considering Montejo's aesthetic choices with regard to his uncertain political standing, Barteet expands previous narratives about the facade that solely emphasize Montejo's defeat of Maya peoples during the Spanish invasion and subsequent colonization of Yucatán. In the first section of the book, Barteet examines Montejo's precarious standing in the eyes of the viceregal government, which was transitioning to a more centralized and bureaucratic system during the sixteenth century and resulted in the decreased political authority of conquistadors, local governors, and nobility. Montejo's aggressive military and political actions in the regions of the Golfo Dulce and Tabasco received harsh criticism from viceregal officials, as well as the Dominicans, who appealed to the Crown to oust him from the territory where they were instituting their Catholic mission. Having acquired the reputation of a thief and tyrant, Montejo was ultimately removed from the office of adelantado, which was a governing position that required noble lineage and complete allegiance to the king. It was right around the time when Montejo's political authority was being challenged that he built the elaborate facade.

Barteet provides a multivalent interpretation of the iconography of the facade, reading it as Montejo's statement of noble lineage and triumph over any dissident voices who challenged his adelantado status, whether it was Spanish officials or the Mayas who resisted him. Barteet also examines the Plateresque style of the facade as a quasi-nationalist Spanish form. Its emphasis on contrasting iconographic themes and ornate use of ornamental and classical motifs, as well as Neoplatonic-Herculean imagery conveyed magnificence and noble and civic virtue, qualities Montejo sought to claim at a tenuous point in his career.

In the second section of the book, Barteet continues his examination of the facade as a multivocal space in his consideration of how it may have influenced the artistic choices of a multilingual Maya nobleman, Gaspar Antonio de Herrera Chi, in his attempts to secure his and his family's political, economic, and social standing. Barteet analyzes two pictorial documents created by Chi: the Memorial Shield to the Massacre at Otzmal and the Xiu Family Tree. Barteet builds on existing scholarship to provide a more nuanced reading of the images, asserting that Chi relied upon the facade's depictions of European heraldic forms, particularly its emphasis on the matriarchal noble lineage of Montejo's wife, Beatriz Álvarez de Herrera, to inform his own constructions of Maya nobility. Barteet provides a new reading of the loose and flowing hair of the female figure in the Xiu Family Tree, which has long puzzled scholars, suggesting that it may reference the facade's depiction of Herrera, who was also Chi's godmother.

Though the book would benefit from expanded analyses at times, especially with regard to discussions of pre-Columbian traditions, it makes an important contribution to two understudied facets of colonial Latin American art history: architectural studies and Yucatán. Barteet's nuanced argumentation expands existing narratives, providing new perspectives on the ways in which architectural design served the social and political ambitions of diverse actors in colonial Yucatán, thereby highlighting the multiplicity of voices and meaning inherent to the visual cultures of colonial societies. The book will serve as a useful reference for scholars of colonial Latin America and architectural studies.