We learn that often a family finds they can make a living from something that they and their ancestors have been doing for generations, be it cooking, wood carving, carpet-making, mezcal-making, embroidery, fine art, whatever and several members are involved, each choosing a specialty within that art so that it all comes together. The earliest learning for children is simple osmosis from being around the family as they work, gradually taking on little tasks and taking on more responsibility as they grow and develop. For the most part, this is how skills and knowledge are passed. Today, some workshops hire non-family members who learn from masters in those shops. There is no accreditation or certification per se. It becomes clear when someone has achieved what it takes to be called a Maestro (master).
Of course, we went into galleries and museums but quickly came to understand that art is not hidden away in galleries; it is everywhere here. These places preserve, interpret and display work, but what is special is that it is the ancient knowledge carried by the people, their ways of knowing that are part of everyday life.
Again and again we were reminded of the ancient Zapotec philosophy that knowledge and skills are shared as part of one's place in the community. This goes beyond a livelihood to a form of giving through exchange, teaching and ongoing community participation.
Villages in the Central Valley have developed specialties, and one that has left a lasting impression on us is the alebrijes of San Martín Tilcajete and San Antonio Arruzola.
ALEBRIJES
The story of how alebrijes came to be is as fantastical as the figures themselves. A papier-mâché artist in Mexico City named Pedro Linares López, while very ill, developed a high fever and, during this time, had wild dreams in which magical/mythical creatures made of a mishmash of body parts were crying out a nonsensical word over and over: "alebrijes". When he recovered, he used his craft to make the animals of his dreams.
In the 1980s, a British filmmaker hosting folk art workshops in America brought together Sr. López with Master woodcarver Manuel Jiménez from the village of San Antonio Arruzola, and the rest is history. Today, the alebrijes of Oáxaca have been declared an intangible cultural heritage of Oaxaca.
The significance of the origin of the alebrijes is that these are dream, fantasy figures coming from the imaginations of the carvers and painters, and because there is no universal dictionary of alebrije symbols, it can be said that no two alebrijes are exactly alike; each is an original. This is absolutely true for the high-end pieces created by the masters, and even in the themed versions made for the tourist trade, there are differences.
We visited the world-famous workshop of María and Jacobo Ángeles. With no appointment, we were welcomed and given a tour that lasted about an hour, after which we were free to wander back into the workshop, spend more time in the gallery and stay for as long as we wanted. No fee.
The process of making the art is fascinating, but what struck us more is the beliefs and practices of the couple behind it. Married in 1994 when she was just 17 and he was 21. First, they worked hard at furthering their own skills, transforming souvenir-making into a high art form and all the while they adhered to an old Zapotec motto: "Enseñar, compartir, contribuir" (To teach, to share, to contribute), which is achieved through a philosophy of social responsibility, cultural preservation and environmental restoration.
As the workers learn (it can take ten years to become a master carver and longer to become a master painter). The workers don't pay for any classes or guidance provided by masters as they work, and their salaries are higher than in many other workshops. If at any time a worker is ready to leave, whether to open their own shop or to work for another, they are encouraged to do so.
For almost twenty years, through a project they call Palo que Habla (the wood that speaks), they have funded and organized the planting of thousands of copal trees on communal land and use rainwater harvesting to save the forests during periods of drought brought on by climate change. Another part of this is the planting of native corn to contribute to food security.
They own and operate a sustainable farm. The farm produce provides the ingredients for traditional Zapotec cooks to feed lunch (every day) to their 250 employees at no charge.
On-site, there is a gift shop that sells not only products from their workshop, but tables where other workshops can place their items for sale. It's commission-free, just another way to promote the art.
Today there really is no educational or certification process; people gain knowledge and skills by living and working in a family enterprise. The Ángeles' goal is to formalize an Arts and Crafts University that will offer certification across multiple disciplines.
The first thing we notice before going into the workshop is the peaceful setting a couple of kilometres out of town.
These extraordinary pieces hanging outside are something for workers to aspire to:
When inside, we note how clean, bright and airy the various work areas are. There are more private areas for work that needs extra concentration or special materials, and communal tables where workers learn not just from the master, but from each other.
THE WORKSHOP TOUR
We are told that this young man has just come to the workshop. The master carver keeps an eye out and offers guidance as needed.
Copal trees grow in rugged, demanding conditions that rarely produce a straight trunk and branches; rather, they grow with twists, bends, forks, knots, and irregular branch patterns, so carvers start with an almost meditative process, holding the wood, feeling the shape, finding the location of knots and listening to what the wood wants to become.
One way to tell that a piece is done by a new carver is that body parts, such as ears and tails, are made separately and glued on or in later, whereas someone experienced carves everything from just one piece of wood.
The wood from copal trees is used because when green, it is soft and easy to work with. While relatively fast-growing, it still takes 15 to 30 years for a trunk to grow large enough to produce a carving of significant size.
When a piece of wood is carved, it is set on an open shelf in a covered area of the workshop to dry. The drying process can take weeks or months depending on the size of the piece, humidity and other conditions.
When wood dries, it checks, or develops splits and cracks. This is where the practice of no wood wasted comes into play. Saved shavings are used as shims to repair cracks, while saved sawdust is mixed with glue or resin to fill in imperfections as the wood dries. Once repairs are made, the wood needs to settle again and may need further repair. When the final repairs are done, the wood is sanded until it is as smooth as glass. The work of repair and sanding needs a highly skilled worker.
The first painters we meet are working on a commissioned installation in which the figures all require some application of gold leaf. Two workers are in a more private space concentrating on the laying and burnishing of the gold.
Then we move on to a larger space where painters are working in groups at various tables. Here we get to look at the brightly coloured acrylic paints in what seems like limitless colours and learn that this workshop also specializes in researching and reviving traditional natural pigments, so colour itself becomes part of the artistic and cultural story.
The woman standing in the photo below is the master overseeing the painters at this table.
Brushes are made from both synthetic and natural fibres, and we see them in all shapes and sizes; the smallest used for eyelash-thin lines, dots, patterns and motifs. Skilled artists trim and reshape their brushes to create special effects. An artist's set of brushes is more than a tool-kit; it's a trusted friend, an extension of the artist's hand and mind.
This webpage from Marakame Art delves into the meanings of the symbols of Oáxacan alebrije art.
Next, we come to a small, open-air kitchen under the stewardship of two traditional Zapotec cooks. It's hard to believe that these women can feed 250 people lunch from this space.
We spend considerable time in the gallery and wandering back to observe the painters. We work at not being distracting to them, but some engage us in conversation about what they are doing. It amazes me that they work without benefit of magnifiers.
Click on photos, then enlarge them with your fingers to see the details.