Mini collection 12

Here are my few Mexican Day of the Dead things (surprisingly difficult to photograph), or what I think of as my Mexican Day of the Dead things which, in reality have got rather blurred (in the sense of what is actually a 'Dad of the Dead' object and what can pass muster as one), ever since I held my own Mexican Day of the Dead in my rented flat in Crouch End, London, years ago. That was a big event for me -- an installation! It involved weeks of preparation and the scrutinising of the photographs I'd taken at the Museum of Mankind exhibition (which inspired the whole thing) plus the pages of Elizabeth Carmichael and Chloe Sayer's book, The Skeleton at the Feast.

from the Museum of Mankind exhibition

I made as many things as I could (which I haven't included in the first photo) and personalised various things as I felt that was in the spirit of the real Day of the Dead.

My great grandfather and great-aunts being ancestors in my Day of the Dead (with tin cut-outs, exotic fruit, homemade skull...)

I don't know where this candleholder is any more. My memories are quite confused as my (wild) enthusiasm for Mexican crafts waned a few years ago and everything got dispersed.

gourd rattle

I have some milagros (metal shapes to attach to the skirts of a Madonna - there was a hand milagro in the recent hand collection), cut-out painted tin decorations, a carved gourd rattle (above), a very tattered pink paper cut by Maurilia Rojas (visible in the photo below).

The blue-robed skeleton is a treasured possession given to me by Irma Kurtz when I edited her travel book, The Great American Bus Ride.

The cross is probably the best thing I have -- studded all over with milagros. I'm not a religious person but even I have been known to rub one of its many hands or a book or an eye on it when I'm hoping for luck in some particular endeavour.

Cycling skeleton

Another great book is Chloe Sayer's Arts and Crafts of Mexico. What was amazing at the Museum of Mankind show (which was, I think, curated by Carmichael and Sayer) was that you could actually buy some of the same objects that were in the show -- they had brought back lots of things from their curatorial visits -- and it really brought it home to me that the Day of the Dead is a living cultural thing, not something enshrined in the past. That's really why I embarked on my own Day of the Dead in my flat -- there's a story inspired by the whole event loaded up on the blog with a link in the right-hand column, if you're interested.

Frida

I also went through a period of loving Friday Kahlo (not so much her art as her life), Diego Rivera (ditto, more so), J. G Posada, Tina Modotti and, lately, Leonora Carrington (again, her life more than her art, alas). I have Mexican loteria cards too -- very good for collage!

I know I'm by no means alone in loving all this stuff -- so what! It's wonderfully graphic and vital. Just looking back at all this stuff has reignited my passion all over again.

Mexican Day of the Dead

Day of the Dead T-shirt -- the teeth frightened my mum once

Yesterday I was wearing my Day of the Dead T-shirt. It's only from TopShop but I like it. It reminded me of my obsession, a few years ago, with the Mexican Day of the Dead. That started with the exhibition at the Museum of Mankind in London (sadly no longer in existence -- why on earth not?) where they actually sold some papercuts and calaveras, candles and skeletons that the curators had bought in Mexico. I was very taken with the whole thing, which appealed to my love of the macabre as well as my interest in folk art.

An ofrenda (shrine) from the Museum of Mankind exhibition

Actually, though, I didn't find any of it in the least bit macabre in the sense of making me feel afraid or uneasy. I felt completely in tune with the rather lighthearted, almost casual celebration of departed relatives, buying their favourite beer or cigarettes to treat them when they came back for a visit.
     I got it into my head that I would create my own Day of the Dead. At the time I was living in a rented flat in North London. There was a small spare bedroom that I decided to transform into a Day of the Dead celebration. It took quite a few weeks of making crepe paper flowers and dancing cardboard skeletons. I bought a lot of old embroidered tablecloths and fairylights plus enough tealights to burn down London. I haven't got many good photos, and none that shows the room in full.

My great grandfather flanked by two of his four daughters

My great grandfather the tinsmith was the main figure to whom the offerings were made, although that was mainly as he was so photogenic. I'm sure he would not have been enticed by Sol beer and exotic fruit.

 

I invited all my friends to come and celebrate the Day of the Dead. Needless to say, quite a few of them were nonplussed and stayed mostly in the kitchen where there was the inevitable vat of chilli. Afterwards I wrote a story about it which I was quite pleased with.