Going his own way

DSC_0302Roberto Macias is hard to miss. He is a big sturdy man, sporting double-pierced ears and other prominent jewelry. While definitely duranguense, he comes across as a bit of a stranger in his own land.

He began to show artistic inclination as early as age 5, surprising teachers with his ability to model clay. However, he was also getting into trouble for carving figures out of his wooden pencils instead of paying attention in class. Although he took some classes at the city university, Macias considers himself self-taught, indicating that he was (and still is) something of a rebel among Durango artists and artisans. But it is people like Macias who think outside the box, and create surprising new forms.

His most prominent work is the making of decorative masks using the petioles of palm fronds, which after the thin part of the frond is cut off, make for a kind of thick triangular or diamond shape. This shape forms the basis of his masks, making most elongated, almost African-like. In fact, a number of his works even have cowrie shells, which he states is his recognition of Mexico’s African heritage. Macias says that Mexico does not like to acknowledge that the country even has one, but since African slaves were more numerous than Spaniards in the colonial period, he considers them more important to Mexico’s mestizo heritage than even the Spanish.

DSC_0290He began making masks in relation to theatrical productions, as a way to earn money. He still does this… and makes certain artistic and specialized musical instruments. He began experimenting with working with palm frond petioles while in college, although he says that he took some flak for this from his teachers. He claims that the local art teachers have little imagination and are mostly interested in doing what was done before.  Despite this, he has continued to make masks of this and other materials, particularly ceramic and various metals, finding enough of a collectors’ market to make the activity viable. While the masks have a definite signature style, one that influences masks made with other materials, no two are exactly the same.

Macias’ creativity extends into other areas as well.  There is a gray area between folk and fine art and Macias’ work not only blurs the line, sometimes it stomps all over it. He has experimented with just about any material an artist might use, and then some. But aside from the masks, most of his work has been wood sculpture and a novel take on cartonería.

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In Durango City, one can see a number of dead trees, often very large ones, which have been converted into sculptures. The tree itself often determines what will be carved but almost always it is something figurative and human. Macias’ work of this type mostly dates from the early 2000s and in locations just south of the city center. While his fotos, taken during and just after completion show his talent, unfortunately these sculptures have not been maintained since.

Cartonería is at best nascent in Durango, but it does exist. Macias take on it is to create a base form with Styrofoam then cover in paper and paste. The purpose behind this is to avoid having the final structure hollow, making it sturdier and less-prone to collapse. The innovation does not stop there. Most of his works are then given other layers, usually with amate (a bark paper whose history goes back at least as far as the Aztecs) and often with leather and even metals.

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Taking his own road has had its benefits as well. He has a permanent exhibition of his palm and other masks at the Museo de las Culturas Populares in Durango and has had a number of exhibitions of his work, most recently at the Instituto Municipal de Arte y Cultura in the city of Durango.

The maestro can be contacted via his cell phone at 618 134 5683. He does not have a web presence.

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Mexican mandalas

Sometimes when exploring new areas, you see something that seems quite out-of-place, but upon learning more, find out it is not.

This was my experience discovering a craft called “woven mandalas.”  I knew the term “mandala” as related to the ephemeral artworks made by Buddist monks but did not know the word’s meaning has been extended to cover a number of artistic and semi-artistic objects with a spiritual, cultural or psychological significance.

GodsEyeGreen440Ojos de Dios or God’s Eyes. People of my generation at least remember making these in grade school with colored yarn and Popsicle sticks. I’m sure I was told of the Eye’s cultural history, but I forgot it until I came to Mexico many years later and saw them again in Jalisco.

The Folk Culture Museum in Durango city has a temporary exhibit of the “woven mandalas” (mandalas tejidos) called “Cardinal Points” by an artist and artisan called Patricia Gonzalez. Like God’s Eyes, they are of various types of colored yarn and/or other types of string, wrapped around thin wood sticks that criss-cross in the center. But these weavings are far more complicated than any God’s Eye.

Intrigued, I managed to get contact information for Gonzalez from the museum (which is quite helpful in this respect) to see if I could learn more about her and the mandalas.

37031082_439954809815409_2079566260701495296_nPatricia Gonzalez is a 27-year-old native of the city of Durango. She comes from an average family with deep roots in the state. However, this family does not have an artist or artisan history. She is the first to study visual arts, attending the School of Painting, Sculpture and Handcrafts affiliated with the Juarez University of the State of Durango.  She graduated four years ago with abilities in various arts and handcrafts, including sculpture, photography and cartonería.

She began drawing and making figures when she was a child, especially in school.  When it came time to go to college, she originally wanted to study marine biology but her parents made her stay in Durango. After looking at a number of options, none of which she liked, her father brought home a brochure for the program at the School of Painting, Sculpture and Handcrafts. She was particularly drawn to the program in graphic design but opted for the more rounded program in visual arts. Her mother was not terribly supportive of the decision, and worries that Gonzalez will “die of hunger.”

37026364_10211945982621232_5441877796307599360_nNeither Gonzalez nor anyone in her family is Wixáritari (Huichol), but she became interested in God’s Eyes after meeting a Durango Huichol woman and began researching it while Gonzalez was still in school. Quite possibly out of respect as well as artistic curiosity, Gonzalez quickly moved away from doing the Wixáritari-style Eyes to new forms called mandalas.

The origin and development of these complicated weavings is unclear. Almost nothing at all seems to be written about them but a Google search brings up the work of several artisans in the United States. Gonzalez says she has seen similar weavings from Europe and even Brazil. Gonzalez believes they are derived from God’s Eyes, but also have various foreign influences (including the name).The craft also has a strong connection with psychology, used both to help diagnose patients and as therapy, and Gonzalez works with a local psychologist. She says one use it diagnostically can be to give a patient very thin string or yarn to work with. If the patient is highly anxious or stressed s/he will have trouble working the delicate material, and may ask for something sturdier.

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However they developed, most of Gonzalez’ work has the same basis as God’s Eyes, two crossed sticks that represent the cardinal direction (NSEW) with others added depending on how complicated the final weaving is to be. No two weavings are alike and there is much flux in what is made. Some of her displayed work abandoned the circular format completely and some adds other media such as masks and dreamcatchers (itself considered a type a mandala).

Thanks to the artisan for images of her work. She can be reach through her Facebook page.

A rant about scorpions

I have been writing this blog for almost 3 years and those of you who read regularly know that I keep it positive.  There is so much good that happens in this field that when I come across a craft or artisan that, shall we say, is not the best, it is easy to simply ignore it.

However, there is one “artesanía” here in Durango that comes up on all the tourist websites and many other resources related to the state. In fact, if you believe some of them, it is almost the only one… this is the encapsulating of scorpions in plastic and using this to decorate souvenirs. I will say up front that I am not a fan of this.

I could simply say that this is a cruel way to dispatch these creatures, but that is kind of hypocritical. I have no problem with leather, bone and other crafts made with animal parts. I could also say that the problem is that the resulting “crafts” are purely tourist souvenirs, but it is the tourist industry that supports much of Mexico’s handcraft industries… for better and for worse.

I think the main problem I have with it is that it is not really creative. It does not take talent to drop a scorpion in hot plastic then glue the result onto something. Unlike other animal-based crafts, it also has no historical value. It does not create something that was useful now or in the past. It does not represent a way to use a part of an animal that might otherwise go to waste. The animal is killed specifically to create the souvenir. It does play on the very real danger that the arachnids had, and to some extent, still have. But the result is still kitsch. I would class it as a “manualidad” not an “artesanía.” I have no problem that people need to make a living, but I do not think this activity should be in the same class as others with much higher cultural importance.

The state of Durango does have some real artesanía that is lost behind the overwhelming abundance of dead scorpions in the Gomez Palacios market. My hope is that in the next few months, I can showcase them here.

Innovating to maintain tradition

JavierRamos028Javier Ramos Lucano is a recognized master of Jalisco traditional burnished pottery, especially the petatillo subspecialty. Born in 1957 in Zapotlán el Grande, Jalisco, he is the seventh generation to work with clay from a family whose work has been documented back to the mid 19th century. He has trained the 8th and 9th generations, with his children all knowing the craft, even some grandchildren.

His training as a craftsman started very traditionally. At the age of 6 or 7, he began playing with clay in the family workshop. Ramos believes this is extremely important to the formation of good artisan as it gives time to know the feel of the materials. Rolling clay around led to the formation of simple figures such as birds and cats, often making his own toys to play with. As an adolescent, he was taught to draw, taking ten years to master this skill.

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Piece by the maestro on display at the Museo de Arte Popular in Mexico City

Most of his training was with his family, but both he and his family took important steps to learn beyond what previous generations did. Ramos took classes at a local art school, learning pastels, charcoal and other techniques.  He became a young man in the 1980s, a time when newer styles of ceramics were beginning to dominate the ceramics industry in the traditional production area of Tonalá, Jalisco. Ramos had the opportunity to work with American master ceramicists Jorge Wilmot and Ken Edwards, who were spearheading the establishment of high-fire work. Ramos worked mixing pigments and paints. In exchange, the masters helped him develop his own style of painting as Ramos worked via trial-and-error. His work with other ceramicists meant that Ramos learned how to do a number of styles of ceramics, such as glazed and high-fire in addition to the family’s traditional burnished pieces. He credits his time in these workshops to making him a more well-rounded craftsman, but he found that the new styles were displacing the traditional pottery of his ancestors. He decided to quit working for others and dedicate himself to preserving and promoting these styles.

 

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Example of simple pottery

In addition to the surge in newer styles, the traditional pottery had the problem of having devolved into very simple designs and execution, generally made for the markets lining the Mexico/US border. This market brought down both the quality and reputation of brunished ceramics. To revive and conserve burnished ceramics, it was necessary to raise the quality of production. Ramos’s answer to this was to specialize in petatillo. Petatillo ceramics are distinguished from other traditional burnished work by its painting/decoration motifs. There are no empty spaces among the various elements. Instead, these spaces are filled with delicate, time-consuming cross-hatching, and in some areas, fine dots. The fine execution of both major elements and this infill makes the ceramics suited for high-end craft markets.  While elements of this style have a long history, as a distinct style it only traces back to the 1920s and had nearly died out by the time Ramos began working. Since then, it has made a comeback.

 

Ramos’s major motifs in his work include Catrinas, other skeletal figures, eagles, flowers, figures from history and folkloric scenes from his areas of Jalisco state. His range of production includes toys, miniatures, shot glasses, tiles, dishes, platters, pitchers and large storage jars called tibores.  Sizes range from a few centimeters to up to 2 meters in height.

JavierRamos026Ramos is dedicated to conserving traditional Jalisco ceramics, especially the style of his great uncles and aunts. Innovation is not done for the sake of innovation but rather to adapt to modern realities, keeping as much of the old as possible.  One of these adaptations is the need to avoid lead, especially for pieces going to the United States.  Decorative pigments are traditional and include white, green and red (for the Mexican flag, white and green, etc. His “new” colors such as violets go back at least to the 1980s. While in the past all colors were made using pigments mined from local sources, others now must be used as local ones cannot handle the heat of modern gas kilns, now mandated by local ordinances.  The most traditional is the use of local clays, with mixtures of black, white and red, tempered with local sand.  Percentages vary depending on what is being made; for example, larger pieces require mixture that give stronger internal support. But even this is under pressure as traditional mines for both clays and pigments get covered over with the urban sprawl of the Guadalajara metropolitan area. One last modification is that they capture rainwater or purify the water they use as modern tap contain contaminants  that can affect the clay and the pigments.

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Most of his and his family’s work sell and exhibits regularly in Europe, Israel, the United States and Central America as well as in Mexico.  The family living room walls are filled with many awards from local, state and national competitions. Ramos says the recognition is not only important for sales, it provides incentive to keep working and improving.

The Wild North

Image result for durango mexicoFate has taken me from Mexico City to Victoria de Durango, the capital of the state of Durango. Despite being a state capital, Durango City is small and isolated. It is connected to Zacatecas, Parral, Mazatlán and Nayarit though highways, but major highways here did not exist as late as the 1980s and even in the 1960s, only dirt roads led to the town.

Although this is changing, Durango still gives the impression of a cowboy town. While there are efforts to bring tourism here, the city’s economy is still that of a regional center, where people from the country come in for supplies.  SUV’s and trucks are a common sight as are women in traditional Tepehuano dress.

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Puente de Ojuela
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Tepehuano indigenous dress

It is an interesting mix of central Mexican colonial buildings (the northwestern edge of where you will find this), food based on beef and green chilis (mostly poblanos) as found in Sonora and parts of Chihuahua and the urban sprawl that has grown up in the past couple of decades. A local gringo told me that Durango lost its complete isolation once the first Walmart opened in 1993.

The state of Durango is very rugged territory. Many areas are still not accessible directly from the state capital and the state boasts four indigenous peoples, many of whom still live traditionally. The most numerous are the Tepehuanes, but there are important communities of the better known Huichols and Tarahumaras as well as some Nahuas which migrated here from central Mexico after the Conquest.

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Like much of the US’s Wild West, northern Mexicans come from (sub)cultures accustomed to self sufficiency, and most of the state’s handcrafts reflect this fact. Also reflected is the fact that is this Aridoamerica, which did not see the rise of major empires as those that developed further south. This means that most crafts here are of the utilitarian sort and not usually geared toward any kind of goods for upper classes. Much of it is done by the native peoples, with a small but growing number of artisans associated with the state’s School of Painting, Sculpture and Crafts. The two largest categories of crafts relate to pottery and textiles, which vary from extremely rustic to reinterpretations of traditional designs. Heavily represented for their small size are the Huichols, who are famous for their yarn paintings and beadwork, although this work is better known in Jalisco and Nayarit.

A visit to the state’s Museo de Culturas Populares gives a brief but good overview of this, with guides ready to give a tour in Spanish. Unfortunately, individual items and shelves lack labeling, though most of the rooms have signs in three languages (Spanish, Tepehuana and English) to explain the unifying theme.

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20180812_121703_HDRBy far, the finest of what is to be found here are related to the production of the School of Painting, Sculpture and Crafts as well as winning pieces from the state’s annual handcraft competition, which provides the best of the state’s indigenous creativity. School pieces tend to lean toward pottery and glass work. The rest range the entire gamut of materials including wood, leather, maguey fiber, wool, clay, basketry beads and paper mache (cartonería).  There is also a large and interesting collection of decorative masks, the likes of which seem more African than Mexican. The staff here is friendly and willing to help with contact with Durango artisans.

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Largest plant “carpet” in the world

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Carpet in progess in Acaxochitlán, Hidalgo

Mexico takes its parties and festivals very seriously. It has a number of craft items that are specifically made for an event, only to be destroyed during or discarded after. If you have ever had the pleasure of whacking a piñata or seen the presentation of ice sculptures or intricately arranged food, this concept should not be particularly strange.

One of these crafts is the making of “carpets” from various organic materials, which are arranged on the ground in patterns and/or images. These originally developed as a way to prepare routes for religious processions. This makes sense on several levels, it marks the route as sacred space as one or perhaps more religious icons will be passing by, and it probably also worked as a way to cover up rather ugly road, especially in the old days when horses and other animals left their droppings on often muddy thoroughfares.

This tradition still lives on in many parts of Mexico and Central America and can even be found in part of the United States. The carpets are made from materials which are locally abundant, and in the case of live plant material, seasonal. These plant materials include flowers, leaves, small branches, wood chips, seeds and bamboo. Another very common ingredient is sawdust which has been colored,  a way of using what might otherwise be simply discarded.

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Face of the goddess Yolihuani in the Feria de Flores carpet

In the past century, the making of these carpets has extended from processions to other events, both religious and secular. Holy Week, Corpus Christi and certain patron saint celebrations are still the backbone of this tradition but carpets of varios types are being made for other occasions and being placed in other venues, not just roads. These include Day of the Dead monumental altars, in plazas for cultural festivals and even recently for the official opening of Disney’s movie Coco.  Certain towns and events are particularly associated with this tradition, in particular the Night No One Sleeps in Huamantla, Tlaxcala, where volunteers spend the night making the carpets that the procession honoring the city’s patron saint will pass over.

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Figure of a stork in wood chips, bamboo and other materials

The growth in importance of these carpets has been matched by growth in size. Previously, the use on roads meant that while length was not restricted, width was. The use of plazas and other venues gets rid of that restriction. The result is the creation of carpets that are more works of art, rather than repetitions of decorative motifs.

 

dsc_01481.jpgOne of these carpets is created each year for the Feria de las Flores (Flower Fair) held at the Xochitla Ecological Park just to the north of Mexico City in August. The purpose of the fair is to cultivate awareness of Mexico native flowering species and their role in the culture. Each year the “world’s largest carpet” is created in an open field at the park, every time with a different theme. The theme for 2018 was Yolihuani: fuente de vida (Yolihuani: source of life). This carpet was on display during the weekend of August 4 and 5, extending over 2,500 square meters. The size meant that materials with larger sizes were used, including pine branches, bamboo, various types of live potted plants (including some in danger of extinction in Mexico), nopal cactus pads, grass, thousands of flowers and even trunks of trees cut into circles to provide visitors paths to walk within the carpet without messing it up.

The work was designed by Alfombristas Mexicanas of Huamantla, Tlaxcala, who have done such works in various parts of Mexico and abroad in countries such as the United States and Australia. They were assisted by dozens of volunteers who come to the park in the days preceeding the event to arrange the ton of materials needed to make the image.

Although more of a painting that a carpet, it did share one very important aspect with its antecedents… at the end of the event, it disappeared.

 

From paper to wire

My apologies for not writing for the past weeks. I had to dedicate the past month or so to finishing my book and getting it off to the publisher!

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Female skeleton with violin by Saulo Moreno

A little over a week ago my Facebook lit up with expressions of sorrow for the passing of maestro Saulo Moreno Hernández in July 2018. The name rang a faint bell, but I didn’t really know who he was. However, the praises of Moreno’s work by Mexico’s cartonería community obliged me to look into his story.

And I’m glad I did. Maestro Saulo was and was not a cartonero. He was both an artisan and an artist. He was born in a village so small in the state of Puebla that his birth certificate does not state a town. Son Mario believes the community has since disappeared. However, Moreno grew up in the hustle and bustle of one of Mexico City’s major markets, where he was first exposed to various kinds of traditional handcrafts for sale there. His artistic abilities  appeared early in life, as did his desire to make things from castaway materials- bottle caps, scraps of wood and metal and much more.

His artistic talent was such that he was accepted into the prestigious Academy of San Carlos in 1950, but he only lasted here a year. Not only were finances an issue, he did not like to be told what to draw and paint and how to do it. The experience left a bad taste in his mouth and he abandoned the art world for good.

Instead, he continues tinkering with making items, skeletons in particular, out of various materials, doing sign painting to earn enough money to live on. He spent more years in the city but eventually moved to the small town of Tlalpujahua, Michoacan to be with his second wife. Here is where the maestro developed his reputation as an artisan.

Though he did a number of creative works, including painting, he is best known for his wire and paper figures he named alambroides. These figures are Moreno’s reinterpretation of cartoneria, Mexico’s paper mache tradition. For traditional craftsmen, an “alma” (lit. soul) is a support structure made of wire or split reeds, meant only to give pieces (especially larger pieces) sturdy support. The best of these artisans almost always work to hide that this alma even exists.

In Moreno’s case, the wire is as important and most frequently more important than the use of paper. In all pieces, the wire is meticulously worked to form details and give shape far beyond what other artisans do. Some pieces, usually skeletons, are mostly or completely covered in some layers of paper and can look fairly traditional. But in most cases, especially with real and fantastic animals, the paper covers only a small percentage of the piece, allowing the wire work to shine. In some cases, paper is left off completely.

Alambroide figures by son Mario

For this reason, much of Moreno’s work was not accepted by traditional cartoneros. This is one reason why he is not as well known as other artisans from his generation. Other reasons include that he was reclusive and eccentric, living in an area with no cartonería tradition.

That is not to say his work was completely overlooked. He was actively promoted by various popular art experts, collectors and gallery owners such as Chloe Sayer, Marta Turok and Rick Hall. He was invited to exhibited and talk about his work in Mexico, the United States, Canada, Europe and Japan.

Until only recently, it looked like maestro Saulo’s alambroides might die with him. However, he had five children very late in life and the oldest, Mario, became recognized as Saulo’s heir, but not until the 2010s. He is young man, married with small children. In some ways, he has his feet more firmly planted on the ground. He moved to nearby city of Atlacomulco and learned to repair computers and the like to provide better for his family. However, when it comes to making alambroides, the artist shows through. He not only conserves his father’s style with only small changes, he mentioned several times how “jealous” (celos) he is regarding this work. He is somewhat adverse to teaching others and publicity, and while he admits his father’s negative experience with traditionalists, he himself is loyal to this new tradition. The good thing about this celos, is that maestro Saulo’s legacy will live on and has a bright future with this young man.

 

My many thanks to Mario Moreno and his family for receiving me only a week after maestro Saulo’s death in order to be able to add him to the book.

Weaving community

The central highlands of Oaxaca has been a major draw for cultural tourism in Mexico for decades. There are several reasons for this. The first is that Oaxaca has the highest percentage of indigenous population, as well as communities which have preserved much of their traditional lifestyle. While the capital of Oaxaca is a relatively modern city, with modern creature comforts alongside colonial charm, the rest of the valley is dotted with small towns and villages with the sights, sounds and smells of the countryside. The second is very likely food. While every region in Mexico has wonderful dishes, the overall gastronomy of Oaxaca cannot be beaten. I certainly have never had a bad meal there.

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Preciosa Sangre Church in Teotitlan del Valle
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Rug from Teotitlan at the Museo Estatal de Arte Popular de Oaxaca

A number of these small towns specialize in one or more handcrafts and are linked by a tourism route. The most well-known of these can be visited by car in a day or so, and include the rug weaving town of Teotitlan del Valle.

Teotitlan is a Zapotec community, where most residents still speak this language. Weaving here goes back a very long way. The area had to pay tribute to the Aztec Empire, which it did yearly in woven goods. Those weavings were done on backstrap looms. When the Spanish conquered Oaxaca and refounded Teotitlan in the Spanish style (including building a church with the broken stones of the old temple), they introduced two things that define the town’s work today: the pedal loom and wool.

While wool initially was used for clothing (the Spanish preferred it), eventually the town specialized in the making of rugs. The most traditional of these have indigenous Zapotec designs, but as the tourism industry drives most of the sales both in Oaxaca city and the town proper, modern designs, including imitations of figures from painters such as Picasso can be seen.

401px-RugsTexSaleTeotitlan1There are a couple of caveats to buying rugs here. While the town has made its reputation on the making of wool rugs colored with natural dyes, many rugs here are wool blends with synthetic dyes. 100% virgin wool, especially locally sourced, is expensive and sometimes not available. Dying with plant material and the famous red of the cochineal insect is time-consuming and becoming a lost art. The result is that true traditional rugs are much more expensive and do not have the eye-catching colors that synthetics can produce. Most of the roadside stands catering to tourists will only have these cheaper options. To find true traditional rugs, it is necessary to visit workshops which actually make them. Almost all of these are on the narrow streets of the town off the main square and beyond, and most lack signage to locate them. However, two artisans which do make and sell 100% wool rugs with natural dyes are the workshops of Porfirio Gutierrez and Arnulfo Mendoza.

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Cactus, furniture and floods

Most of Mexico’s traditional handcrafts come from small rural towns, and few are smaller or more rural than Venta Vieja, Guerrero, located north of the state capital Chilpancingo. It is rugged terrain, with little tree cover, which means that major rain events such as the hurricanes Ingrid and Manuel that hit Mexico in 2013 devastated the tiny village of about 100 families, even though they are far inland. Most homes were swept away or made uninhabitable by the flash flooding. Below is a video with English subtitles about the devastation and reconstruction.

The village is even smaller now as some were not able to rebuild. Those who remain maintain a rather precarious existence with subsistence agriculture and furniture making. It is a 100% populated by native Nahua, with just about all of the population speaking this indigenous language, with some not even speaking Spanish.

It is these communities that events such as the twice-yearly Expo de Pueblos Indigenas are designed to help. Sponsored by National Commission for the Development of Indigenous Communities (CDI as it is commonly referred to), the Expo is one of various programs to help indigenous-owned businesses start or improve their business. Most of these are related to handcrafts and one of the major goals is to wean these creators from their dependency on middlemen, selling more directly to end users and making a better profit from their work.

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No automatic alt text available.This past May the To Neluayo group participated in the Expo, their first. It comes on the heels of support to start gaining a presence online, both in Facebook and a soon-to-be-launch website. It is a family affair with 3 generations in several branches. This is typical for these workshops. What attracted my attention was the quality of the work as well as the use of the dried skeletons of a local type of organ cactus. To Neluayo says that the cactus is from the local mountains, but it is not harvested but rather collected after the plant dies naturally. This might be the case today, but I have to wonder if that will be a sustainable plan in the long run. However, it is best that if these resources are going to be utilized, and the recent devastation did result in a lot of dead trees, best that the local people benefit as much as possible.

 

 

 

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It´s never too late to make an impact

DSC_0045Few stories illustrate this point better than that of Angela Ramírez del Prado of Tultepec, State of Mexico.

This suburb of Mexico City is best known for the making of fireworks, which unfortunately also includes the occasional disaster such as the explosions that tore out a huge chunk of the fireworks market back in December of 2016.

When Ramírez was growing up, none of that existed. Born in 1928 (and turning 90 on 16 May), the area was all rural farmland with Mexico City far away. She described her childhood as very happy, raising chickens and the like but noted with a hint of regret that she only learned “her letters” and some very basic arithmetic. The family was poor, even more so when her father became incapacitated and she and her brothers had to work to make ends meet. This was her first contact with fireworks making.

DSC_0062Her economic situation did not improve after marrying a local farmworker, so she did what so many poor ingenious Mexicans do, they take what is available and create products, to sell here and there… often for almost nothing. Over the years, Ramírez became adept at all kinds of handcrafts, crediting television for teaching her many of them as soon as it was available in her area.

 

However, none of them involved paper and paste (cartonería) a craft that is heavily associated with fireworks. While fireworks can and are set off by themselves, very often they are affixed to colorful large figures such as devils (Judas effigies), figures of bulls and even alebrijes. Tultepec attracts much local tourism during several holidays when fireworks and these figures take center stage. The largest of these is the celebrations of the town’s and fireworks makers patron saint, John of God. Here toritos (little bulls) take center stage.

Only about 20 years ago, Ramírez hit upon an idea. She saw the crowds that came to Tultepec to enjoy the shows and realized that no one was selling any kind of souvenirs for them. Many do not know the processes or traditions associated with fireworks. So she took on another handcraft, fashioning figures in paper and paper of fireworks makers and sellers to sell at these events. The idea was a success and since then several others in the town also do this work. She went on to create more elaborate scenes such as processions and branched out into other themes such as scenes of what life was like in Tultepec when she was young. Her work began to receive official recognition starting in 2001 from local, state agencies as well as cartonería organizations.

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Although she still has many ideas and is still overall in very good health, her hands and eyes no longer permit her to create her figures herself. It remains to be seen if the family will continue doing what she did as they have a thriving business making more traditional figures as well as renting dance and holiday costumes.

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While her pieces are rustic, there is no denying that there is an artist inside of her. No two faces look the same; all have different expressions based off of people she has met over her lifetime. Positions and scenes have a very realistic feel, and there is heart which cannot be duplicated by someone who has not lived this life. It is the kind of work that brings cartonería up to the level of folk art, a phenomenon that has been happening in Mexico for only about 20-25 years or so. In the future, I hope that some museum will take notice and put on an exhibition of this work.