Young Boy Transformed into Carnival Bride in Mexico

For the third time in nine years I am in Oaxaca, Mexico for the Carnival Workshop taught by my friend Mari Seder and her colleague Humberto Batista.  We are here to explore painting and photography and to enjoy the unique Carnival celebrations in this part of Mexico.

Last Tuesday, Feb. 28, we traveled to the village of San Martine de Tilcajete where the carnival celebrations include a parade led by a mock bride and groom (both men) who lead a noisy and ribald crowd through the village followed by “Devils” and costumed celebrants and a brass band.

Usually the man who is dressed as the bride—a great honor—is in his 30’s and plays the role comically.  I’m told it began as an annual parody by the peasants of the richer classes and their behavior.  The parade stops at the Mayor’s house and involves lots of drinking and sharing of local gossip in rhymed couplets. But this year the role of the bride was taken by a young boy of 13, Zutiel Jimenez Ortega, who had caught the bouquet thrown by last year’s bride.

 

For the first time I was at the home  in the primitive cluster of stucco huts that make up his family compound, along with about 20 other photographers, early enough to see the boy prepared by his family members for the transformation into this all-important Carnival role. 

Clearly he was nervous, scared, and reluctant to put on the garb of the bride.  I can’t remember ever before crying while photographing a story, but seeing him/her sitting on a bed surrounded by dolls and toys, all alone in this new persona, brought me to tears. 

His  mother (in the turquoise top) came into the room to advise him and she proudly showed the photographers outside a photograph of the boy, four years before, (on the left) when he was only 8 and was one of the grease-covered "devils" who tagged along in the parade. 

  

But as the morning progressed, after encouragement from family and friends, the Carnival bride rose to the occasion and took her part at the head of the parade with great élan.

The "mock wedding" is a tradition in many countries at Carnival, when roles are reversed and cross-dressing is encouraged.  (Witness the two six-foot-tall cross-dressers below, with friends.)  The bride role played by the boy here is not about homosexuality, but it is more poignant than usual, it seemed to me, because the person playing the starring role was at a threshold, considering with mixed feelings, the life that lay ahead of him as an adult.

"Holy Death", the Virgin of Juquila and My Painting

Since it is the season of the Days of the Dead, I decided to re-post one of my very first blog posts, published on November 18, 2008, about a painting I did inspired by some of my visits to Mexico.  (I'm hoping to make another visit to Oaxaca in February.)

My friend, photographer and teacher Mari Seder, first introduced me to Mexico, its incredible colors and fascinating folk and religious art when I visited her in Oaxaca many years ago.

Several years ago I traveled with her to the isolated Church of the Virgin of Juquila on the mountainous road from Oaxaca to Puerto Escandido. Pilgrims come here by foot from all over Mexico to ask for a miracle from this tiny, dark-skinned figure of the Virgin who is housed in a massive church.

The pilgrims walk for days, sleeping in village squares, fed by pious Mexicans, until they reach Juquila. They often approach the saint on their knees. The tiny figure (who is considered Indian because of her dark skin) has a white train which stretches out of the church and far into the distance. Pilgrims leave on the train gifts and hand-made wooden crosses either specifying the favor they need or thanking her for favors received. My photo at right below shows two Indian women on their knees approaching the Virgin, one with a blond baby on her back.

 Three years ago on March 21 my daughter and I were on a tour led by cooking guru Susanna Trilling (http://seasonsofmyheart.com/). We were at El Tajin – a pre-Columbian archeological site in Veracruz, composed of multiple pyramids. It was the Spring Equinox and hundreds of Mexicans, all dressed in white, came there to be cleansed by the Sun God with the aid of cueranderos (healers).

On the way into the pyramids, among the many objects on display on the road outside, I noticed the skeletal lady dressed as a Spanish Senorita. I had never seen anything like her … she was like the many Guadalupe virgins seen everywhere, but she was Death.  So I took her photo, but no one could tell me exactly what she was for. They told me she was Santa Meurte and I could see she was available for some kind of religious ceremony (for a price) but I couldn’t get any other kind of information. Everyone seemed reluctant to talk about her.

Last year in February in Oaxaca I attended a class sponsored by the Worcester Art Museum called “Expanding Your Vision -- Painting and Photography in the Magical World of Oaxaca, Mexico”. It was taught by my friend Mari Seder and Oaxacan artist Humberto Batista. (Nowadays they still offer classes in Oaxaca, but they're doing it on their own: http://www.artworkshopsinoaxaca.com/) Humberto strongly encouraged the students to think outside the box and to paint something unlike their usual style.

At his urging (although I am VERY literal – usually painting just what I see) I incorporated the figure of Santa Meurte from El Tajin into my painting of the interior of the Church of Juquila. The result is the painting above.

I was surprised and excited when I recently picked up the New Yorker dated Nov. 10 and found an article by Alma Guillermoprieto called “Days of the Dead, The new narcocultura.” She wrote about the narcotics trafficking that is causing such bloodshed in Mexico and she investigated the role of “The Holy Death” – especially as she is celebrated in a mass every day in a troubled neighborhood of Mexico City called Tepito where the drug dealers and addicts collect.

The author suggested that there are two thousand shrines in Mexico to Santa Meurte and that she is the saint of drug traffickers (although the woman who established the large shrine in Tepito denies that it is only for drug traffickers.)

When I painted the watercolor at top, showing a woman crawling toward the Virgin of Juquila , I imagined that she was going to ask the Virgin to heal her baby and was encountering Santa Muerte blocking her way to salvation. If it’s true that Holy Death is the saint of narcotics dealers, that adds another dimension to the painting. Perhaps the baby’s health and safety are threatened by some version of the narcocultura (maybe not now but when he grows up.)

The thought gave me a shudder, appropriately enough at this season which celebrates the Days of the Dead. And it adds a layer of unexpected meaning to the painting

Mezcal & My Favorite Mexican Photos

 Back in 2008, when Michael Covino and the Niche Hospitality Group opened Mezcal Restaurant on Shrewsbury Street in Worcester, Mike commissioned me to  print, mat and frame nearly 40 photos of the Mezcal-making process—photos I took on a trip to Oaxaca.

In the town of Mitla  I photographed many family-owned Mezcal “fabricas”. Mezcal is made from the heart of the Agave cactus–called a piña because of its resemblance to a pineapple. I got great photos, all related to the Mezcal-making process, but I convinced Mike to let me frame as well some non-Mezcal portraits of people I had encountered in Mexico.  He hung six of my portraits of women in the ladies’ room and six hombres in the men’s.  These “bathroom” portraits proved to be so popular that people kept stealing them, which I took as a compliment.

Mezcal Restaurant in Worcester turned out to be a huge success.  It was voted best Mexican Restaurant in the city. Every time I drove by, I saw people waiting to get in.

Last spring Mike asked me to print out a new set of photos for a new Mezcal Restaurant that the Niche group was opening in Leominster, MA.  It’s just now officially open, and my favorite portraits of Mexican men and women are again in the restrooms.  I hope they don’t get stolen!  But if they do, I’ll just re-print them and take it as a compliment.  Here’s the story behind the dozen photos:

1. Guelaguetza Girls. These lovely young women were practicing for the ceremony called Guelaguetza that takes place in Oaxaca during late July.  Originally meant to worship the corn god, it was celebrated by the indigenous people long before the Spanish came.  The trajes (costumes) these women are wearing and their lace headpieces are so stunning! No wonder Frieda Kahlo adopted the fashion for herself.

2. Fiesta tot. This adorable child was photographed some years ago at a Candelaria Festival on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.  The Zapotec Indians of the Isthmus have their own language and traditions, and it’s a strong matriarchal society—the women rule.

3. At the Candelaria Festival, most of the dancers were women dancing with each other. (The men mainly watched from the sidelines)  But this young couple was the focus of all eyes, because they were so beautiful and so clearly in love.  I hope by now they’re married and bringing their own fiesta tots to the Candelaria festival.

4. The Tortilla Lady.  She’s cooking (with helpers) in her courtyard in preparation for the Candelaria feast.  She is one of the many local cooks I was introduced to by Susana Trilling in the course of one of Susana’s culinary tours.  Those tours are always full of adventure and  take you far, far off the beaten track, because Susana knows the culinary secrets of Mexico better than anyone.  Info about  her tours is at www.SeasonsOfMyHeart.com.

5. Candelaria Parade.  These beauties were tossing favors, just as people do in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Candelaria happens on Feb. 2 (same as Groundhog Day).  Because it’s 40 days after Christmas, it marks the day when the Virgin Mary took Jesus to be presented at the temple.  In Mexico, every family buys a new outfit for the Christ Child doll on the family’s home altar and takes him to church to be blessed.

6. You’ve seen this urchin on my blog before--cheerfully carrying her little brother on her back.  When I was walking around San Cristobal, Chiapas, Mexico in 2009, also on one of Susana’s culinary tours (this one was “Chiapas & Chocolate & Tabasco”), I encountered this girl and lots of her friends, all selling cheap jewelry. The first day I ran into her, she was unencumbered by her sibling, but she was always smiling. Of course I bought some of her bracelets.

7. This blind musician was also someone I encountered on the streets of San Cristobal.  It’s a wrenching portrait.  For some reason, almost all the photos I’ve taken of old men in Mexico bring tears to my eyes.  I think because they make me think of my father, who died about 25 years ago.

8. This old man, holding his bottle of beer and staring thoughtfully into space, was at a Day of the Dead celebration, which is usually a rollicking event in this village outside of Oaxaca, with bands playing and people dancing.  But I suspect he’s pensive because he’s remembering friends who have passed away.

9. This man who entered the church in Tlacalula, immediately knelt down and continued to pray for a long time.  I suspect he’d come a long way on this pilgrimage.

10.  The Red Devil.  He’s one of many devils that delighted in harassing us at Carnival time in the village of San Martine Telcajete.  I was there while taking a class in collage, shadow box & photography with photographer Mari Seder.  Every year the class visits the Carnival celebrations in this small town, which include a hilarious mock wedding featuring trans-dressers and much mischief. (See more about Mari’s  classes at www.artworkshopsinoaxaca.com. )

11. This photograph was taken at the ancient ruins of El Tajin on another one of Susana’s culinary tours—“Veracruz & Vanilla”. At the Spring Equinox, the indigenous people come to the ruined pyramids of El Tajin, everyone dressed in white, to absorb the power of the sun god and to  have  a cuerandero (healer)  perform a cleansing ceremony.  At night there were native dancers and children handing out clay images of the gods and the next day everyone came back to see the Vanilla Queen, the Voladores (flying dancers) with their dangerous rituals, and of course, to be cleansed.

12. The young man above is happy because he’s off to the Candelaria parade which is followed by the fiesta.  As I recall, the price of admission was a case of beer.  The Mexicans of the state of Oaxaca, like the  customers at the old and new Mezcal Restaurants, know how to have a good time.

Carnival and Christ in Puebla, Mexico

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I recently wrote about the “Fat Tuesday” celebrations in the village of San Martin Tilcajete outside of Oaxaca, featuring a “faux” wedding, devils, noise, dancing, gossip, ribald behavior and lots of pre-Lenten craziness.

After eight days in Oaxaca, we (students and teacher of our art course sponsored by the Worcester Art Museum) went on to Puebla, a larger city 80 miles southeast of Mexico City which boasts ornate colonial architecture featuring tiles and beaux-arts rococo plasterwork and the famous Talavera pottery.

Here in Puebla, carnival celebrations were in full swing and on Sunday Feb. 2 , as we prowled the large flea market and antique area, we ran into a parade featuring local beauties in white dresses dancing with men dressed as devils, Indians and Spaniards. Their costumes trumpeted the names of their neighborhoods on their cloaks. The costumes were less gruesome than in Oaxaca and the devils far less threatening, but the bystanders were having just as much fun.

That night, as we went to the Zocalo of Puebla, which has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the large plaza was chock full of costumed dancers and music, fountains spurting and children delighted with the carnival activities, balloons and ice cream treats. Clearly families had dressed up the children and driven in from outlying areas, and as we enjoyed margaritas at a sidewalk restaurant, we felt privileged to be included in the Lenten hilarity. Among the mask for sale was a spooky Michael Jackson face.

I’m also including a photo I took from our balcony at the Hotel Colonial of a grandmother and her granddaughter on a bench below. At first I thought she had a baby beside her, but then I saw that it was the family’s Christ Child doll, that she had brought out for a stroll—or to be blessed in church. I’ve learned that the Christ Child doll lies down on the family altar at Christmas but is then put in a sitting position on Candlemas (Feb. 2) and he needs a new set of clothes at that time. The Christ Child in his new clothes needs to be taken to church to be blessed before the beginning of Lent, but this grandmother seems to have overlooked the deadline—or perhaps there’s a dispensation on Sundays?

In Mexico, the symbols of the Catholic religion are everywhere, and while leaving the Zocalo that day I snapped a photo of a woman sitting in a store that sells religious objects. She was almost hidden behind a life-size statue of a bleeding crucified Christ lying on the counter.

(My next post will be: Angels in the Architecture in Puebla, and under the volcano in Cholula.)

More on Oaxaca, Mexico and Art on the Street

(Please click on the photos to enlarge)

Here are the photos of the art on the walls of a small restaurant in Oaxaca Mexico called (I think) Nuovo Babel. I really like the sort of magical realism and graffiti/street art quality of these paintings and I'm sorry I couldn't read the name of the artist in the signature. I thought the wall of men in masks were meant to be superheroes, but the teacher in our art course, Mari Seder, tells me these are members of "Lucha Libre" a violent kind of masked wrestlers very popular in Mexico.

By the way, the title of the masked men painting is "odios" which I'm told means "hatred."

I can't get over how often the skeleton and the skull appear in contemporary Mexican art and folk art. The Mexicans have a completely different attitude toward death than North Americans. It's an accepted part of life--not to be feared. I think the skull on the mariposa (butterfly) indicates that death is just another phase of life, like the transformation of the caterpillar into the butterfly.

I am also posting four last photos that I took before leaving Oaxaca. These are all taken in the immediate vicinity of the beautiful church of Santo Domingo, near the studio where we spent most days of our art class (sponsored by the Worcester Art Museum.) In the last photo --taken to illustrate the amazing colors that you find everywhere in Mexico--the figures are our two instructors, Mari Seder and Humberto Batista, and one of our fellow students, looking into one of the shops on the side of Santo Domingo.

My next post will be about "Life, Death and Carnival in Puebla".

Art and Graffiti in Oaxaca, Mexico

(Please click on the photos to enlarge them.)

In Oaxaca, art is everywhere, from the works of local artists like Francesco Toledo, hanging in galleries and museums, to the embroidery on the traditional trajes (costumes) worn by women in places like Tehuantepec and sold for hundreds of dollars in the shops here.

The people of Oaxaca seem to create art instinctively, even when choosing to paint their houses and doorways in startling colors with a sophistication that never ceases to amaze me. A mask hanging on a wall near the door to a latrine, or signs glued to a wall, constantly make me stop and stare. An orange doorway becomes abstract art worthy of Mondrian. The sign about the ¨Ninos¨advertises that the store is a place to dress your Child of God. These Christ Child dolls which sit on the family altar, evidently need to get a new set of clothes and to be blessed in the church before Lent begins (last Tuesday) which is why I have seen so many people carrying their Christ Child dolls lately.

I’m presently in Oaxaca taking an art class sponsored by the Worcester Art Museum and led by photographer Mari Seder and artist Humberto Batista. They are teaching us the art of collage. Above is a photo of the first one I tried in its UNFINISHED state. I incorporated photos I took of Mexican church statues and photos taken by daughter Eleni Gage and myself of women encountered in various parts of Mexico. Most of them were selling their traditional art — embroidery, bracelets, necklaces, weaving. We always asked their permission before taking their portraits. I’m calling this collage “Our Lady of the Sorrows” because these women all seem sad or reflective.

I’m also posting some photos of the graffiti that you see everywhere in Oaxaca. The people who own these buildings consider the graffiti destructive and a terrific nuisance, but I can’t help thinking it’s another kind of striking Oaxacan art. One row of the photos above shows graffiti art taken indoors to decorate a small restaurant called Nuevo Babel. (Whoops--I just realized I didn´t download that series of photos to this Mexican computer--will use it in a posting tomorrow.) I’m sure much of the street art is politically motivated, inspired by the riots here four years ago and government corruption and oppression, but as an outsider, I enjoy it as art without understanding the underlying political message, if there is one.

Last night, Friday, we were privileged to see more local art in the costumes and traditional dances of the seven different regions of the state of Oaxaca, presented at the beautiful Camino Real Hotel in a buffet and dance spectacle held in the former convent’s chapel. The men are wearing costumes of the Dance of the Feather, which symbolizes the Mixtec-Zapotec fight against the Spaniards. The women in the black embroidered costumes come from the Isthmus, where women rule in a matriarchal society. Their dance celebrates the gathering of turtle eggs (with erotic undercurrents.) Each of the seven regions of the state of Oaxaca have their own embroidered costume and dance. In two of the regions, the women dance slowly, looking grimly down at the floor. But not the women of the Isthmus!

It’s going to be hard to leave the colors, flowers and art found everywhere in Oaxaca to go back to the snow of Massachusetts.

Mardi Gras with Devils in Oaxaca, Mexico

I’ve been in Oaxaca for three days now and have had lots of adventures while on an art course from the Worcester Art Museum led by my friend photographer Mari Seder. Today I want to tell you how we celebrated Fat Tuesday in the village of San Martin Tilcajete about a 45-minute drive from Oaxaca. It’s all about devils and gossip and cross-dressing and music and a faux wedding where the bride, groom and attendants are all male.

The bride is prepared by her attendants amid much loud band music, shooting of fireworks and drinking of Corona beer. The nuptial donkey is also decorated. Eventually the band and assorted devils lead the wedding parade to the house of the mayor.

All over town young men have painted their faces, covered their bodies in dark grease (I think from cars) and, wearing skirts of noisy cowbells and brandishing sticks and machetes, they run about trying to terrify people while bystanders hand them cold beers.

When the bridal procession reaches the mayor’s house, there is a false wedding ceremony where a “priest” does the honors and then, in rhyming couplets, tells over a loudspeaker the scandalous gossip about everyone on hand. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but the villagers, from small children to old crones, were doubled over with laughter.

When he concludes, favors like rubber balls are tossed at the crowd and the bride stands on a chair under a tent while ribald comments are made and grotesque monsters dance around her. The devils and monsters terrify the children, make obscene gestures to the adults and generally have a good time dancing.

I wish I could have been able to understand the Spanish, but the bizarre celebration didn’t need an interpreter. It seems that every nationality needs to go a little crazy and misbehave once a year and often it is on the day before the strictures of Lent begin. We have cousins in Corfu Greece who e-mailed that they are off to hear the gossip of their town announced in a Carnival celebration. I don’t know if there was a faux wedding involved (although such silliness goes back to pre-Christina times in many cultures) but I doubt that any other town, including Corfu and New Orleans and Rio, has more fun than San Martin Tilcajete on Fat Tuesday.

More Oaxaca adventures soon!