Giving a whole new meaning to Oaxacan multiculturalism …
Fiddler in Oaxaca
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
May 21, 22 and 23, 2008, might very well be remembered for time immemorial, as the dates when the 1964 Broadway production of Fiddler on the Roof was performed by a cast of 51, absent a single Jew. That the theater troupe was comprised of children and youth of mainly evangelists and missionaries through the auspices of Oaxacan Christian School, and directed by two Canadians who had traveled from Vancouver to spend four months organizing, auditioning and coaching, made the production even more noteworthy.
Fiddler Jr. was the first production performed by a brand new theater group, Oaxaca Youth Entertainers (OYE), formed by parents in Mitla and Oaxaca. Most of the “actors” in fact live in or near Mitla.
Watching the performance in a hall in suburban Oaxaca, one would be hard-pressed to be any further removed, ethnically, religiously, temporally, and geographically, from the Jewish shtetl in the village of Anatevka in 1905 tsarist Russia. Yet the quality of dance, music, verse, wardrobe and props were all true to form, right down to tsi-tsi clad Tevye the dairyman cavorting with out-stretched arms flailing while bellowing “if I were a wealthy man,” and the requisite fiddler, yes, on the roof.
While most in attendance appeared to be English speaking missionaries and their families, the balance of the audience comprised their Oaxacan friends, other natives of the city only some of whom understood the English words being spoken and sung (the synopsis of the play and summary of each of the 15 scenes was printed in both languages), and members of the expatriate community … including some Jews.
As per Oaxacan custom, the performance began a half hour “late.” However, even before the curtain rose it became clear that the wait would be well worth while and that we were about to be entertained by a production of professional quality, keeping true to original script, with important historical lessons to be learned. The moderator’s introduction was remarkably moving, as he noted the pain and suffering of Jews throughout history, and that 2008 marks the 60th anniversary of the formation of the State of Israel. He cautioned, clearly for the benefit of those in attendance raised in a non-drinking culture, that there would be scenes of drinking and drunkenness, that the production in no way endorsed this type of behavior, and that they simply portrayed what live was like for some in that era.
Ethnic cleansing’s scourge on society; marrying rich versus poor, and out-of-faith; the importance of family and deferring to one’s parents’ wishes; and of course lessons about Jewish traditions right down to village dress in early 20th century eastern Europe and of the orthodox, and use of the chuppa (canopy) and breaking of the glass at a wedding; were each handled, as dictated by context, with factual accuracy, sensitivity, and in some cases requisite humor.
Justice, however, was not done to the hard work and talent of these youthful actors and the production as a whole, as a result of air conditioning units not functioning as required during the hottest time of the year, the commissary running out of bottled water at the intermission, and most importantly a faulty sound system making many of the lines the stars of the play incomprehensible, to even for those of us with English as our first language and a vague recollection of Topol’s most memorable lines. Viva Oaxaca.
Alvin Starkman has a masters in anthropology and law degree from Osgoode Hall Law School in Toronto. Now a resident of Oaxaca, Alvin writes, takes tours to the sites, and owns Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ).
5/18/2008
A rich woodcarving tradition dating to pre-Hispanic times: Spotlight on Jacobo Ángeles
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
One would be hard-pressed to search the Americas and find creators of folk art with more form, symbolism and importance to the development and sustenance of their culture, than those of Zapotec ancestry in the southern Mexico state of Oaxaca.
Many writers, including so-called experts in folk art, have mistakenly written that the origins of the tradition date back fifty or sixty years, to a small number of wood carvers residing in one of the central valleys of Oaxaca, a few miles from the state capital of the same name. The error has consistently been equating the recent commercialization of the art-form with its origins, and ignoring its pre-Hispanic roots and subsequent development.
Carver Jacobo Ángeles lives with his wife María and two children in San Martín Tilcajete, one of three main Zapotec villages, most of the residents of which earn a living from carving and / or painting colorful figures, often generically referred to as alebrijes, from the branches of the copal tree. The others are Arrazola and La Unión Tejalapan.
At age 12 Jacobo began learning to carve from his father. Later on he was mentored by elders in his own and other villages. “Over the past few decades our craft has without a doubt changed dramatically,” Jacobo explains, “with the use of more synthetic paints, a tremendous increase in the range of figures being carved, and with domestic and international demand for our carvings growing exponentially and affecting how and what we produce. But remember, my ancestors were carving animals right here in this region before the Spanish arrived in Mexico in the 1500’s. And we were using only natural paint colors which we derived from fruits and vegetables, plants and tree bark, clay, and even insects. In my family we still use what we find around us to make paints for our figures.”
San Martín Tilcajete is located about a 40 minute drive from the city of Oaxaca, along a highway leading to the state’s Pacific resort towns, including one of the oldest ports, Puerto Escondido. Puerto Escondido was a hub for the export of coffee and other cash crops during colonial times, but is now a popular beach destination for Mexican and international vacationers alike. Many travelers combine their sun and sand vacation with a visit to Oaxaca, searching out unique pieces of folk art including dance masks, pottery and painted clay figures, rugs and tapestries, and antiques from the colonial period forward. And of course there are the pre-Hispanic ruins, galleries, museums and renowned Oaxacan cuisine.
“My ancestors used a 20-day calendar,” Jacobo continues, “and each day was represented by a different creature. So every Zapotec person had an animal with whom he had a connection, and each animal had certain characteristics which carried over to the individual, as personality traits. For example, the jaguar represents power and ultimate strength, the frog is characterized by honesty and openness, the coyote watchful observation, the turtle always a troublemaker prone to breaking the rules, the eagle technical and strategic power, and so on. My people used to carve figures of just these 20 animals. They started out as small whittlings for good luck that people would keep in a revered place in the home, or wear around the neck as amulets. They also carved larger figures for their children to use as toys.”
After much probing, an almost forgotten story emerges of the use of decoys of wood and other materials. Jacobo reveals: “My people used a variety of methods to attract different kinds of game, but for hunting eagles and other birds of prey, rabbits, and deer, yes they used decoys. A painted wooden snake would be placed on the ground in an area where ants had trampled the grasses so the snake decoy would easily be seen by eagles. To hunt rabbit, my ancestors would attach a rabbit tail to one end of a straw hat, and at the other end another tail with a face painted on it. For deer, a crude wooden deer torso with real antlers would be placed in the tall brush. So carving was historically important to our people for not only totemic and related reasons, but it was directly related to our subsistence. All the written records from the period of the conquest, and not just local legend, confirm the importance of woodcarving.”
“But look at what we now carve,” Jacobo continues. “While in my family we still use natural paints, and still carve our 20 totems, we’ve transformed a simple yet important and symbolic tradition into something very different. In our villages we now carve many more than those 20 animals because of collector demand. More importantly, we’re able to make our heritage better understood and appreciated by the world. In our own workshop, our painting depicts designs and representations of our culture … friezes from the ancient ruin at Mitla, symbols representing waves, mountains and fertility, the totems, and other metaphors for our culture today, and from the past.”
Indeed the world has taken notice … not only hobbyists, carvers from other countries, and folk art aficionados. Jacobo’s work is prominently displayed in The Smithsonian Institute, Chicago’s National Museum of Mexican Art, and elsewhere throughout the continent and further abroad, in museums, art colleges and galleries. Throughout the year Jacobo traverses the U.S. promoting Oaxacan folk art and his Zapotec heritage, teaching in a diversity of educational venues ranging from junior schools to university departments of fine art, and as honored speaker at art exhibition openings.
********************
A visit to the Ángeles workshop adjoining their home, accessed by a heavily pot-holed narrow dirt road towards one end of the village, affords an opportunity to learn about this extraordinary skill-set, from Jacobo, Maria --- an excellent painter in her own right --- and some two dozen other members of their family who produce some of the finest quality wood carvings found anywhere on the continent. The men do most of the carving, while women do most of the painting, but the tasks are definitely not exclusively based on gender lines. Carving is done with non – mechanical hand-tools such as machetes, chisels and knives. The only time a more sophisticated tool is used is when a chain saw is employed to cut off a branch and level a base for the proposed figure
Except when a special order is received, the woodworkers in the family are given artistic license to carve whatever figure they wish. A trozo of tree trunk will “speak” to one of these specialists, and that’s the inspiration for beginning to create a particular animal: the shape, thickness, and bends and twists in the piece come alive. A detailed outline is drawn on the bark, defining the image with greater clarity and detail. The sculpting in earnest then begins.
“From the female copal tree we are able to make figures out of one piece of wood, often very large and intricate. This wood is soft and easy to work with. The male tree is harder, and branches tend to be smaller and somewhat delicate, so we use it to make animals which we assemble in the process.”
The carving alone takes up to a month. The figure is then left to dry for up to 10 months, depending on its overall size and thickness. Because of the properties of the copal, and Oaxaca’s semi-tropical climate, the wood is susceptible to termite infestation. Accordingly, during the drying process the piece is treated. It’s soaked in a gasoline / insecticide mixture for several hours. As an added assurance, it’s then placed in an oven, just in case eggs have evaded extermination. “All of our pieces are guaranteed to never have a termite problem,” Jacobo assures.
Since the figures are fashioned while the wood is green and more easily workable, the wood separates during the drying process. “There are a couple of members of my family whose main job is to fill the cracks before the painting begins.” They use shims, small pieces of wood which are otherwise waste from the carving process, to do part of the remedial work, as well as a sawdust-glue mixture. But even these slivers of wood and the sawdust have been cured. “We’re proud of our work, and never want to have any problems with any of our buyers, whether someone is spending $20 or $2,000.”
In the Ángeles workshop, in almost all cases one person carves and another paints. Once a figure has left the hands of the carver, all proprietary rights are released, and another member of the family is entrusted with the painting. Nephew Magdaleno explains: “Occasionally one of my cousins will come up to me and say ‘what do you think about these colors or this kind of design concept for this coyote,’ and I’ll give my feedback, but it doesn’t happen very often, and in the end I’m almost always pleased with the result. For me it’s the form that’s most important, and for whoever’s painting, it’s the imagery it captures.”
One cannot help but gasp at the creative sculpting genius which goes into each piece: A starving dog scratching fleas, a bear with its paw in a honey pot, a snake constricting a wincing jaguar, a winged horse on its hinds, a woman with long braided locks and the body of an armadillo, or a deer, life-size by Mexican standards. There’s something particularly arresting about each creation: the ever-so-flowing and realistic movement, a fanciful stance, or a familiar pose striking a chord with our popular characterization. However the painting is anything but familiar. No color of the rainbow goes untested and the intricacy of and variation in design is remarkable.
Theories abound regarding the beginning of the modern-day manifestation of the art-form. Some say that because hallucinogenic mushrooms are native to this part of Mexico, drug induced revelations caused the imaginations of some to wander, ultimately becoming expressed in their carvings. The better explanation appears to be that knowledge of colorful, large, papier maché alebrijes or dragon-like forms which originated in the State of Mexico, eventually filtered down to Oaxaca, and were the inspiration for the fathers of contemporary painted wooden carvings. “You know, it’s not accurate to refer to what we create as alebrijes, because to the older generations of Mexicans, and to true folk art collectors, alebrijes were developed near D.F. (Distrito Federal, or Mexico City, the nation’s capital), and what we do is completely different.”
Jacobo demonstrates how his ancestors created natural paints, historically used for dying clothing, painting buildings, and ceremonially as face and body decoration used for rites of passage, fiestas, prayer and other important occasions. Today their primary use, at least in these few villages, is for painting the wood carvings. He explains with the assistance of his machete and a tree trunk how he cuts away the reddish inside part of the bark of the male copal, allows it to dry, then toasts and grinds it. “This is a primary base that we use, which allows us to create a range of colors, tones and shades. Just watch.”
Using his hands as palettes, Jacobo begins by placing a small amount of the powdered bark in one hand, squeezes juice from a lime, creating a brown, which he then places on an unpainted wooden owl. “Yes the owl is also one of our sacred creatures, the great healer, quiet and humble.” He reveals: Now over time, and in the sun, this color will change or fade and be absorbed into the wood. So what our ancestors learned to do was take the dried sap from the copal tree and heat it up with honey. The resulting liquid is then mixed with the paint, changing the color a little; see, it becomes a deep orange … but most importantly it acts as a mordent making the color permanent, and a little shiny.” He adds powdered limestone, and the color changes to black. With the addition of baking soda it becomes magenta. A new base is then started, with crushed pomegranate seeds. Magically the pulverized pink is transformed into green with the addition of powdered zinc. Blue from the añil tree, indigo, the next color, is changed with the addition of bicarbonate, zinc, lime juice or the powdered lime mineral. More lime miraculously converts a deep purple into shades of grey, and then white. Corn mold or huitlacoche, a black gooey culinary delicacy, when fermented and then powdered, yields ochre. The red of the dried and then crushed minute insect, the cochineal, which feeds off its host nopal cactus, becomes orange with the addition of the juice of any of a number of acidic fruits.
The demonstration terminates with Jacobo asking, “what´s your favorite animal,” following which he finger paints a rabbit from the rainbow of colors on his palms, as only Alice could have imagined.
******************
With approximately 150 families now producing painted wooden figures in these and a couple of other smaller villages, the questions left unanswered remain: What facilitated and drove more carvers to adopt the papier maché style of using brilliant color combinations, and how can everyone in these villages make a living from this solitary art-form?
As with other crafts in the central valleys of Oaxaca, their production wasn’t always the primary means of sustenance for the populace. Traditionally, making crafts was a hobby or part-time trade, beginning with a paucity of items being sold to the odd passerby, adventurer or traveler. In the case of rugs or tapetes from nearby Teotitlán del Valle, there were trade routes that producers followed in order to effect more sales in other regions of the state, and in some cases beyond. But the primary means of family survival was working the land and small-scale ranching. In the case of the carving villages, there never was a broader market, although in San Martín Tilcajete embroidered shirts, blouses and dresses were an extremely well-received craft product throughout the 1960’s and into the 80’s.
Dramatic change in production and marketing of wooden carvings had its genesis in the 1940’s. The pan-American highway cut through the Sierra Madre del Sur mountains, reaching Oaxaca, opening up the state to the north, in particular Mexico City and the border states. Until then Oaxaca was relatively isolated notwithstanding a rail connection. By the 1950’s and early 60’s Americans and Canadians were prospering from the post-war boom, credit cards had been mailed to virtually everyone, and word spread of a new kind of vacation, in a third world country called Mexico. Jet air travel facilitated the transformation. The women’s movement meant more two income families, resulting in more disposable income for traveling. Mexicana Airlines and Oaxacan travel agents partnered to begin offering tour packages, which further facilitated tourism to the region.
The hippie movement of the 1960’s and early 70’s brought Oaxaca to the forefront of the alternative lifestyle, with throngs of youth and their pop idols traveling to Huautla de Jiménez, then a tiny Oaxacan village, to eat hallucinogenic mushrooms with the now infamous healer María Sabina. North American youth saw and purchased the first generation of contemporary wood carvings.
By the 1980’s, as a consequence of multiple factors, Oaxacan alebrijes had become well-established as folk art, with the market continuing to grow. The economic implication was that farmers and ranchers were able to spend more time carving and painting, and less time in the countryside and in marketplaces vending their produce and animals. With a new toll-road opening from Mexico City to Oaxaca in 1995, access to the southern state became even quicker and easier, and safe. In good conscience, travel writers were no longer able to warn tourists about driving the switchbacks, back-road banditos or cars overheating on secondary roads without service stations.
The future market for the art-form? While the odd visitor to a Oaxacan coastal resort such as Puerto Escondido, or the more popular Huatulco, does visit the state capital and the workshops of carvers like Jacobo, most do not. Within the next four years a new highway to the coast will open, cutting road travel time by a third or more. Even more sun worshipers will visit Oaxaca, and marvel at the art of Jacobo and María Ángeles.
Since opening their family workshop in 1996, without a doubt Jacobo and María have singularly raised the quality bar for other villagers who aspire to mirror their success. With Oaxacan wood carvings of superior quality now well established on the world stage, and access no longer an impediment, the challenge for others in San Martín Tilcajete will be to achieve the success of the Ángeles family through production of like quality, until now eluding most.
A challenge for all carvers in the region is to ensure a continuous supply of copal to meet demand. A reforestation project commenced about 15 years ago by the late master of contemporary Mexican art, Rodolfo Morales, continues through his Foundation. The Ángeles family and their friends and other villagers spend the last Sunday of each July, in the midst of the rainy season, planting, a part of the sustainable living concept for them: ensuring an ongoing supply of raw product, cutting only branches for making figures so that the tree continues to grow, reducing waste by utilizing the slivers and sawdust in repair work and any remaining twigs and branches as firewood for cooking, and using the sap and bark in paint production. “And you know,” Jacobo reminds, “we’ve also been using the hardened sap from the tree as incense, mainly at religious cememonies, for generations. There are even knifemakers down the road in Ocotlán, who engrave their hand-forged blades using a special ink made with the sap. Have you visited the cuchillería of Ángel Aguilar?”
For high end collectors, we can only encourage the success of all efforts and projects aimed at maintaining the growth and development of the Oaxacan woodcarving tradition, since it satisfies and advances our penchant for and obsession with quality hand-fashioned craftsmanship. For the artisans in the region, aside from the obvious economic importance, it’s part of maintaining their Zapotec heritage and illustrating the richness of the culture to the broader world.
The workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles is located at Calle Olvido #9, San Martín Tilcajete, Ocotlán, Oaxaca ( t: 951-524-9047 ; w: http://www.tilcajete.org ; e: angeles@tilcajete.org ).
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples, families and small groups to the craft villages, ruins, colonial churches and more off-the-beaten-track destinations in Oaxaca state, and is a special consultant to documentary film production companies.
One would be hard-pressed to search the Americas and find creators of folk art with more form, symbolism and importance to the development and sustenance of their culture, than those of Zapotec ancestry in the southern Mexico state of Oaxaca.
Many writers, including so-called experts in folk art, have mistakenly written that the origins of the tradition date back fifty or sixty years, to a small number of wood carvers residing in one of the central valleys of Oaxaca, a few miles from the state capital of the same name. The error has consistently been equating the recent commercialization of the art-form with its origins, and ignoring its pre-Hispanic roots and subsequent development.
Carver Jacobo Ángeles lives with his wife María and two children in San Martín Tilcajete, one of three main Zapotec villages, most of the residents of which earn a living from carving and / or painting colorful figures, often generically referred to as alebrijes, from the branches of the copal tree. The others are Arrazola and La Unión Tejalapan.
At age 12 Jacobo began learning to carve from his father. Later on he was mentored by elders in his own and other villages. “Over the past few decades our craft has without a doubt changed dramatically,” Jacobo explains, “with the use of more synthetic paints, a tremendous increase in the range of figures being carved, and with domestic and international demand for our carvings growing exponentially and affecting how and what we produce. But remember, my ancestors were carving animals right here in this region before the Spanish arrived in Mexico in the 1500’s. And we were using only natural paint colors which we derived from fruits and vegetables, plants and tree bark, clay, and even insects. In my family we still use what we find around us to make paints for our figures.”
San Martín Tilcajete is located about a 40 minute drive from the city of Oaxaca, along a highway leading to the state’s Pacific resort towns, including one of the oldest ports, Puerto Escondido. Puerto Escondido was a hub for the export of coffee and other cash crops during colonial times, but is now a popular beach destination for Mexican and international vacationers alike. Many travelers combine their sun and sand vacation with a visit to Oaxaca, searching out unique pieces of folk art including dance masks, pottery and painted clay figures, rugs and tapestries, and antiques from the colonial period forward. And of course there are the pre-Hispanic ruins, galleries, museums and renowned Oaxacan cuisine.
“My ancestors used a 20-day calendar,” Jacobo continues, “and each day was represented by a different creature. So every Zapotec person had an animal with whom he had a connection, and each animal had certain characteristics which carried over to the individual, as personality traits. For example, the jaguar represents power and ultimate strength, the frog is characterized by honesty and openness, the coyote watchful observation, the turtle always a troublemaker prone to breaking the rules, the eagle technical and strategic power, and so on. My people used to carve figures of just these 20 animals. They started out as small whittlings for good luck that people would keep in a revered place in the home, or wear around the neck as amulets. They also carved larger figures for their children to use as toys.”
After much probing, an almost forgotten story emerges of the use of decoys of wood and other materials. Jacobo reveals: “My people used a variety of methods to attract different kinds of game, but for hunting eagles and other birds of prey, rabbits, and deer, yes they used decoys. A painted wooden snake would be placed on the ground in an area where ants had trampled the grasses so the snake decoy would easily be seen by eagles. To hunt rabbit, my ancestors would attach a rabbit tail to one end of a straw hat, and at the other end another tail with a face painted on it. For deer, a crude wooden deer torso with real antlers would be placed in the tall brush. So carving was historically important to our people for not only totemic and related reasons, but it was directly related to our subsistence. All the written records from the period of the conquest, and not just local legend, confirm the importance of woodcarving.”
“But look at what we now carve,” Jacobo continues. “While in my family we still use natural paints, and still carve our 20 totems, we’ve transformed a simple yet important and symbolic tradition into something very different. In our villages we now carve many more than those 20 animals because of collector demand. More importantly, we’re able to make our heritage better understood and appreciated by the world. In our own workshop, our painting depicts designs and representations of our culture … friezes from the ancient ruin at Mitla, symbols representing waves, mountains and fertility, the totems, and other metaphors for our culture today, and from the past.”
Indeed the world has taken notice … not only hobbyists, carvers from other countries, and folk art aficionados. Jacobo’s work is prominently displayed in The Smithsonian Institute, Chicago’s National Museum of Mexican Art, and elsewhere throughout the continent and further abroad, in museums, art colleges and galleries. Throughout the year Jacobo traverses the U.S. promoting Oaxacan folk art and his Zapotec heritage, teaching in a diversity of educational venues ranging from junior schools to university departments of fine art, and as honored speaker at art exhibition openings.
********************
A visit to the Ángeles workshop adjoining their home, accessed by a heavily pot-holed narrow dirt road towards one end of the village, affords an opportunity to learn about this extraordinary skill-set, from Jacobo, Maria --- an excellent painter in her own right --- and some two dozen other members of their family who produce some of the finest quality wood carvings found anywhere on the continent. The men do most of the carving, while women do most of the painting, but the tasks are definitely not exclusively based on gender lines. Carving is done with non – mechanical hand-tools such as machetes, chisels and knives. The only time a more sophisticated tool is used is when a chain saw is employed to cut off a branch and level a base for the proposed figure
Except when a special order is received, the woodworkers in the family are given artistic license to carve whatever figure they wish. A trozo of tree trunk will “speak” to one of these specialists, and that’s the inspiration for beginning to create a particular animal: the shape, thickness, and bends and twists in the piece come alive. A detailed outline is drawn on the bark, defining the image with greater clarity and detail. The sculpting in earnest then begins.
“From the female copal tree we are able to make figures out of one piece of wood, often very large and intricate. This wood is soft and easy to work with. The male tree is harder, and branches tend to be smaller and somewhat delicate, so we use it to make animals which we assemble in the process.”
The carving alone takes up to a month. The figure is then left to dry for up to 10 months, depending on its overall size and thickness. Because of the properties of the copal, and Oaxaca’s semi-tropical climate, the wood is susceptible to termite infestation. Accordingly, during the drying process the piece is treated. It’s soaked in a gasoline / insecticide mixture for several hours. As an added assurance, it’s then placed in an oven, just in case eggs have evaded extermination. “All of our pieces are guaranteed to never have a termite problem,” Jacobo assures.
Since the figures are fashioned while the wood is green and more easily workable, the wood separates during the drying process. “There are a couple of members of my family whose main job is to fill the cracks before the painting begins.” They use shims, small pieces of wood which are otherwise waste from the carving process, to do part of the remedial work, as well as a sawdust-glue mixture. But even these slivers of wood and the sawdust have been cured. “We’re proud of our work, and never want to have any problems with any of our buyers, whether someone is spending $20 or $2,000.”
In the Ángeles workshop, in almost all cases one person carves and another paints. Once a figure has left the hands of the carver, all proprietary rights are released, and another member of the family is entrusted with the painting. Nephew Magdaleno explains: “Occasionally one of my cousins will come up to me and say ‘what do you think about these colors or this kind of design concept for this coyote,’ and I’ll give my feedback, but it doesn’t happen very often, and in the end I’m almost always pleased with the result. For me it’s the form that’s most important, and for whoever’s painting, it’s the imagery it captures.”
One cannot help but gasp at the creative sculpting genius which goes into each piece: A starving dog scratching fleas, a bear with its paw in a honey pot, a snake constricting a wincing jaguar, a winged horse on its hinds, a woman with long braided locks and the body of an armadillo, or a deer, life-size by Mexican standards. There’s something particularly arresting about each creation: the ever-so-flowing and realistic movement, a fanciful stance, or a familiar pose striking a chord with our popular characterization. However the painting is anything but familiar. No color of the rainbow goes untested and the intricacy of and variation in design is remarkable.
Theories abound regarding the beginning of the modern-day manifestation of the art-form. Some say that because hallucinogenic mushrooms are native to this part of Mexico, drug induced revelations caused the imaginations of some to wander, ultimately becoming expressed in their carvings. The better explanation appears to be that knowledge of colorful, large, papier maché alebrijes or dragon-like forms which originated in the State of Mexico, eventually filtered down to Oaxaca, and were the inspiration for the fathers of contemporary painted wooden carvings. “You know, it’s not accurate to refer to what we create as alebrijes, because to the older generations of Mexicans, and to true folk art collectors, alebrijes were developed near D.F. (Distrito Federal, or Mexico City, the nation’s capital), and what we do is completely different.”
Jacobo demonstrates how his ancestors created natural paints, historically used for dying clothing, painting buildings, and ceremonially as face and body decoration used for rites of passage, fiestas, prayer and other important occasions. Today their primary use, at least in these few villages, is for painting the wood carvings. He explains with the assistance of his machete and a tree trunk how he cuts away the reddish inside part of the bark of the male copal, allows it to dry, then toasts and grinds it. “This is a primary base that we use, which allows us to create a range of colors, tones and shades. Just watch.”
Using his hands as palettes, Jacobo begins by placing a small amount of the powdered bark in one hand, squeezes juice from a lime, creating a brown, which he then places on an unpainted wooden owl. “Yes the owl is also one of our sacred creatures, the great healer, quiet and humble.” He reveals: Now over time, and in the sun, this color will change or fade and be absorbed into the wood. So what our ancestors learned to do was take the dried sap from the copal tree and heat it up with honey. The resulting liquid is then mixed with the paint, changing the color a little; see, it becomes a deep orange … but most importantly it acts as a mordent making the color permanent, and a little shiny.” He adds powdered limestone, and the color changes to black. With the addition of baking soda it becomes magenta. A new base is then started, with crushed pomegranate seeds. Magically the pulverized pink is transformed into green with the addition of powdered zinc. Blue from the añil tree, indigo, the next color, is changed with the addition of bicarbonate, zinc, lime juice or the powdered lime mineral. More lime miraculously converts a deep purple into shades of grey, and then white. Corn mold or huitlacoche, a black gooey culinary delicacy, when fermented and then powdered, yields ochre. The red of the dried and then crushed minute insect, the cochineal, which feeds off its host nopal cactus, becomes orange with the addition of the juice of any of a number of acidic fruits.
The demonstration terminates with Jacobo asking, “what´s your favorite animal,” following which he finger paints a rabbit from the rainbow of colors on his palms, as only Alice could have imagined.
******************
With approximately 150 families now producing painted wooden figures in these and a couple of other smaller villages, the questions left unanswered remain: What facilitated and drove more carvers to adopt the papier maché style of using brilliant color combinations, and how can everyone in these villages make a living from this solitary art-form?
As with other crafts in the central valleys of Oaxaca, their production wasn’t always the primary means of sustenance for the populace. Traditionally, making crafts was a hobby or part-time trade, beginning with a paucity of items being sold to the odd passerby, adventurer or traveler. In the case of rugs or tapetes from nearby Teotitlán del Valle, there were trade routes that producers followed in order to effect more sales in other regions of the state, and in some cases beyond. But the primary means of family survival was working the land and small-scale ranching. In the case of the carving villages, there never was a broader market, although in San Martín Tilcajete embroidered shirts, blouses and dresses were an extremely well-received craft product throughout the 1960’s and into the 80’s.
Dramatic change in production and marketing of wooden carvings had its genesis in the 1940’s. The pan-American highway cut through the Sierra Madre del Sur mountains, reaching Oaxaca, opening up the state to the north, in particular Mexico City and the border states. Until then Oaxaca was relatively isolated notwithstanding a rail connection. By the 1950’s and early 60’s Americans and Canadians were prospering from the post-war boom, credit cards had been mailed to virtually everyone, and word spread of a new kind of vacation, in a third world country called Mexico. Jet air travel facilitated the transformation. The women’s movement meant more two income families, resulting in more disposable income for traveling. Mexicana Airlines and Oaxacan travel agents partnered to begin offering tour packages, which further facilitated tourism to the region.
The hippie movement of the 1960’s and early 70’s brought Oaxaca to the forefront of the alternative lifestyle, with throngs of youth and their pop idols traveling to Huautla de Jiménez, then a tiny Oaxacan village, to eat hallucinogenic mushrooms with the now infamous healer María Sabina. North American youth saw and purchased the first generation of contemporary wood carvings.
By the 1980’s, as a consequence of multiple factors, Oaxacan alebrijes had become well-established as folk art, with the market continuing to grow. The economic implication was that farmers and ranchers were able to spend more time carving and painting, and less time in the countryside and in marketplaces vending their produce and animals. With a new toll-road opening from Mexico City to Oaxaca in 1995, access to the southern state became even quicker and easier, and safe. In good conscience, travel writers were no longer able to warn tourists about driving the switchbacks, back-road banditos or cars overheating on secondary roads without service stations.
The future market for the art-form? While the odd visitor to a Oaxacan coastal resort such as Puerto Escondido, or the more popular Huatulco, does visit the state capital and the workshops of carvers like Jacobo, most do not. Within the next four years a new highway to the coast will open, cutting road travel time by a third or more. Even more sun worshipers will visit Oaxaca, and marvel at the art of Jacobo and María Ángeles.
Since opening their family workshop in 1996, without a doubt Jacobo and María have singularly raised the quality bar for other villagers who aspire to mirror their success. With Oaxacan wood carvings of superior quality now well established on the world stage, and access no longer an impediment, the challenge for others in San Martín Tilcajete will be to achieve the success of the Ángeles family through production of like quality, until now eluding most.
A challenge for all carvers in the region is to ensure a continuous supply of copal to meet demand. A reforestation project commenced about 15 years ago by the late master of contemporary Mexican art, Rodolfo Morales, continues through his Foundation. The Ángeles family and their friends and other villagers spend the last Sunday of each July, in the midst of the rainy season, planting, a part of the sustainable living concept for them: ensuring an ongoing supply of raw product, cutting only branches for making figures so that the tree continues to grow, reducing waste by utilizing the slivers and sawdust in repair work and any remaining twigs and branches as firewood for cooking, and using the sap and bark in paint production. “And you know,” Jacobo reminds, “we’ve also been using the hardened sap from the tree as incense, mainly at religious cememonies, for generations. There are even knifemakers down the road in Ocotlán, who engrave their hand-forged blades using a special ink made with the sap. Have you visited the cuchillería of Ángel Aguilar?”
For high end collectors, we can only encourage the success of all efforts and projects aimed at maintaining the growth and development of the Oaxacan woodcarving tradition, since it satisfies and advances our penchant for and obsession with quality hand-fashioned craftsmanship. For the artisans in the region, aside from the obvious economic importance, it’s part of maintaining their Zapotec heritage and illustrating the richness of the culture to the broader world.
The workshop of Jacobo and María Ángeles is located at Calle Olvido #9, San Martín Tilcajete, Ocotlán, Oaxaca ( t: 951-524-9047 ; w: http://www.tilcajete.org ; e: angeles@tilcajete.org ).
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples, families and small groups to the craft villages, ruins, colonial churches and more off-the-beaten-track destinations in Oaxaca state, and is a special consultant to documentary film production companies.
5/02/2008
Vieja Lira Trattoria & Pizzeria --- Oaxaca Restaurant Review
Alvin Starkman M.A., LL.B.
Thankfully the recent expansion from 24 to 40 seats hasn’t detracted from the intimacy and quaintness of this downtown Italian restaurant and pizzeria. It still has classy yet welcoming décor of deep cranberry and white walls, simple pine tables and cushioned chairs stained dark to enhance a bistro-like feeling, and not to be overshadowed, floor-length draperies well-matched to the magenta / wine tones. The soft sound of jazz heard from the street is alone enough to make you want to take a peak in, and then you’re hooked.
You’re warmly welcomed by Italian owner Simone, who is almost always on hand. His presence remains, yet more in the nature of consultant, available to make suggestions, innately knowing when his attention is needed, and when not. He advises regarding selections from the printed menu, or large blackboard. We’ve never been disappointed with his wine recommendations, each having been carefully chosen by Simone so as to ensure appropriate pairing of food with wine, as well as affordability for middle-of-the-road patrons.
The primary culinary reason for visiting Vieja Lira is its pizzas. However, the fish, seafood, pastas and zuppas run a very close second. And even if the temptation to order a traditional plato fuerte is too great to resist, and you’re inclined to pass on the pizza, suggest to others in your party that pizza as one of the appetizers might satisfy the curiosity if not secret yearning of all.
Drinks arrive almost as readily as the crusty, soft yet dense bread, hand-cut to be drizzled with the herb infused olive oil or perhaps some paste-like salsa de chile de arbol.
The pizza is one generous size, with crust as thin as I’ve ever chomped, surely worthy of winning an award. It borders on the thickness of a tortilla or perhaps tlayuda. For this cena our eight-slicer had cheese, tomato and the usual herbs and spices, each quarter with a healthy topping of one of artichoke, black olive, mushroom and pepperoni. While it was the first appetizer to arrive, and we knew there were more entradas to follow, the four diners in our party were drawn to devour it all, without even a single, obligatory “no, you take the last piece.”
Our appetizers were rounded out with a bowl of ten or so medium-sized garlic shrimp, skewered, and an order of bruschetta of chicken liver paté, dare I say good enough to remind me of my grandmothers’ recipe from The Old Country. Watch out asiento, schmaltz is making inroads into Oaxaca.
My wife’s seafood bouillabaisse consisted of a medley of seafood and fish, juices appropriately spiced with a blend of fresh local herbs including your standard Italian selections, served in an oversized bowl. I continued with the crustacean theme, indulging in a hefty serving of fettuccini with seafood including squid, octopus, shrimp, scallop and local langostina in their shell. One of our guests ordered seared tuna over a bed of mixed exotic greens. She’d requested “rare, much less than medium,” I piped in “almost still swimming,” yet the plate arrived disappointingly overcooked, bordering on well. Without question or discussion the dish was removed, and in short order another serving, properly grilled, arrived with appropriate apology. The final entrée was one of the daily specials, rabbit with choice of penne or linguini, in a tangy tomato sauce.
Two bottles of Italian merlot having been retired, the restaurant by now almost empty, we were nevertheless still inclined to continue with just a bit more catching up with good friends. A couple of brandies and herbal teas, a tiramisu, and a coconut ice cream served in its half shell, most agreeably put the finishing touches on an evening of overall contentment.
Vieja Lira
Trattoria & Pizzeria
Pino Suárez 100
Centro, Oaxaca
Hours: 1 - 11 p.m., closed Tuesday
Tel: 516 – 1122
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin reviews restaurants, writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples and families to the craft villages, market towns, ruins and other sights in the state’s central valleys, and is special Oaxaca consultant to documentary film production companies.
Thankfully the recent expansion from 24 to 40 seats hasn’t detracted from the intimacy and quaintness of this downtown Italian restaurant and pizzeria. It still has classy yet welcoming décor of deep cranberry and white walls, simple pine tables and cushioned chairs stained dark to enhance a bistro-like feeling, and not to be overshadowed, floor-length draperies well-matched to the magenta / wine tones. The soft sound of jazz heard from the street is alone enough to make you want to take a peak in, and then you’re hooked.
You’re warmly welcomed by Italian owner Simone, who is almost always on hand. His presence remains, yet more in the nature of consultant, available to make suggestions, innately knowing when his attention is needed, and when not. He advises regarding selections from the printed menu, or large blackboard. We’ve never been disappointed with his wine recommendations, each having been carefully chosen by Simone so as to ensure appropriate pairing of food with wine, as well as affordability for middle-of-the-road patrons.
The primary culinary reason for visiting Vieja Lira is its pizzas. However, the fish, seafood, pastas and zuppas run a very close second. And even if the temptation to order a traditional plato fuerte is too great to resist, and you’re inclined to pass on the pizza, suggest to others in your party that pizza as one of the appetizers might satisfy the curiosity if not secret yearning of all.
Drinks arrive almost as readily as the crusty, soft yet dense bread, hand-cut to be drizzled with the herb infused olive oil or perhaps some paste-like salsa de chile de arbol.
The pizza is one generous size, with crust as thin as I’ve ever chomped, surely worthy of winning an award. It borders on the thickness of a tortilla or perhaps tlayuda. For this cena our eight-slicer had cheese, tomato and the usual herbs and spices, each quarter with a healthy topping of one of artichoke, black olive, mushroom and pepperoni. While it was the first appetizer to arrive, and we knew there were more entradas to follow, the four diners in our party were drawn to devour it all, without even a single, obligatory “no, you take the last piece.”
Our appetizers were rounded out with a bowl of ten or so medium-sized garlic shrimp, skewered, and an order of bruschetta of chicken liver paté, dare I say good enough to remind me of my grandmothers’ recipe from The Old Country. Watch out asiento, schmaltz is making inroads into Oaxaca.
My wife’s seafood bouillabaisse consisted of a medley of seafood and fish, juices appropriately spiced with a blend of fresh local herbs including your standard Italian selections, served in an oversized bowl. I continued with the crustacean theme, indulging in a hefty serving of fettuccini with seafood including squid, octopus, shrimp, scallop and local langostina in their shell. One of our guests ordered seared tuna over a bed of mixed exotic greens. She’d requested “rare, much less than medium,” I piped in “almost still swimming,” yet the plate arrived disappointingly overcooked, bordering on well. Without question or discussion the dish was removed, and in short order another serving, properly grilled, arrived with appropriate apology. The final entrée was one of the daily specials, rabbit with choice of penne or linguini, in a tangy tomato sauce.
Two bottles of Italian merlot having been retired, the restaurant by now almost empty, we were nevertheless still inclined to continue with just a bit more catching up with good friends. A couple of brandies and herbal teas, a tiramisu, and a coconut ice cream served in its half shell, most agreeably put the finishing touches on an evening of overall contentment.
Vieja Lira
Trattoria & Pizzeria
Pino Suárez 100
Centro, Oaxaca
Hours: 1 - 11 p.m., closed Tuesday
Tel: 516 – 1122
Alvin Starkman together with wife Arlene operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast ( http://www.oaxacadream.com ). Alvin received his masters in social anthropology in 1978, and his law degree in 1984. Thereafter he was a litigator in Toronto until taking early retirement. He and his family were frequent visitors to Oaxaca between 1991 and when they became permanent residents in 2004. Alvin reviews restaurants, writes about life and cultural traditions in Oaxaca, tours couples and families to the craft villages, market towns, ruins and other sights in the state’s central valleys, and is special Oaxaca consultant to documentary film production companies.
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