Growing up as the daughter of an art historian, I had the privilege of constantly being surrounded by art. Of course, we had many paintings bringing life and colour to our whitewashed walls, but also my dad had several pre-Columbian artifacts and small sculptures which inhabited bookshelves and niches within the home. Most of the art was Mexican or Spanish and even though I am not an academic like my father was, I learned to appreciate the basics thanks to his unsolicited lectures at the dinner table.
On several occasions I remember as a young girl living in Victoria, BC, friends would come over and comment, "Why do you have a painting of a naked lady in your house?" They were referring to replicas such as Francisco de Goya's Nude Maja. At the time I didn't know my reaction to my friends' comments was a feeling of appreciation for having been exposed to art from a young age and knowing the names of all the ladies, clothed or otherwise, who formed part of our bicultural home. Thanks to those naked ladies, I have a thirst for visiting galleries and exhibits whenever I travel. As my dad would say, "You are a culture vulture!"
Today, October 29, 2021, the "naked ladies" are inspiring me to enjoy Mexico City for 4 days with the ambitious intention of taking in some of the temporary exhibits set up for the Day of the Dead. It’s a “green zone” here in Mexico City in terms of COVID-19 which means hoards of people have been let loose among the streets and squares of the city. Frida Kahlo is present, offering a digitized view of her paintings and audio clips of her diary in an immersive exhibit of light and sound. She is also inspiring a collection of not-to-be-missed massive skulls or calaveras around Mexico City's Monument to the Mexican Revolution.
Sidebar: The Monument to the Mexican Revolution is considered the tallest triumphal arch in the world and is a mausoleum to revolutionary heroes who are entombed in the structure's columns.
Fridacráneos combines the tradition of Día de Muertos with the life and work of Frida Kahlo. The exhibit brings the colours and imagination of the famous Mexican artist to a series of giant skulls.
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Urban art exhibit of Fridacráneos, inspired by Frida Kahlo's paintings
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The esplanade at the Monument to the Mexican Revolution |
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The art deco architecture of Frontón Mexico building |
The immersive Frida Kahlo exhibit is actually one of three here in the city (Beyond Van Gogh and Da Vinci). The tickets were $22 each and the venue was a captivating, unique, and symmetric art deco building known as
Frontón México. Frontón is the court where Jai Alai is played here but in Mexico, everyone refers to the sport as Frontón. Once inside, the building's rhythm, geometry, shape, and colour transported my friend Jaime, 72, and me back in time. Frida's omnipresence triggered my great appreciation for both her painting and her written expression, much of which was produced as she suffered from her bed as a survivor of a horrific accident and dozens of reconstructive, painful operations. Thankfully, I have not suffered a horrific accident, but I know the pain of sudden loss, and grieving the loss of my husband has shed light on how resilient I can be if I trust in God and remain grateful and hopeful.
“Al final del día, podemos soportar mucho más de lo que creemos que podemos (At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can).” -Frida Kahlo
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Frida Kahlo Immersive exhibit |
After the exhibit, Jaime suggested we go to the Diego Rivera Mural Museum to see a famous painting by Frida's husband and muralist, Diego Rivera. The 50-foot fresco
Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park takes the viewer through Alameda Park, Mexico City's first city park that was built on the grounds of an ancient Aztec marketplace. The large mural represents three principal eras of Mexico's history; The Conquest, the Porfiriato Dictatorship, and The Revolution of 1910.
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Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park by Diego Rivera
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I learned from Jaime that the painting depicts the origin of the Catrina, or skeleton that is widely associated with the Day of the Dead. The creator was a revered engraver, Jose Guadalupe Posada who produced the Calavera Catrina as a parody to the vanity of the time. Calavera Catrina, a symbol of the urban bourgeoisie at the turn of the nineteenth century originated as an allusion to the Aztec Earth Mother Coatlicue, who is frequently represented with a skull. Diego Rivera highly respected Posada and claimed him as one of his artistic luminaries and teachers.
The original fresco we were admiring escaped the destruction brought on by the 1985 earthquake. Jaime taught me that at the time the fresco was housed at the Regis Hotel which was completely destroyed by the earthquake. Ironically Jaime had played at the hotel as a musician with his pop band Los Hooligans in 1961.
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The Regis Hotel, destroyed by the 1985 earthquake
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After the mural museum, Jaime and I stepped outside to enjoy the actual Alameda Park whose beauty and splendour were enhanced by several Catrinas marking the Day of the Dead festivities.
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Alameda Central Pak |
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Hola Catrina! |
Our feet and stomachs led us to a lovely plaza in the historic centre, which was the site of the second annual festival of offerings and flowers for the Day of the Dead. We were exhausted and had worked up an appetite so we stopped for lunch and enjoyed the view of the Plaza Manuel Tolsá. The central part of the plaza is adorned by one of Tolsá's masterpieces, the equestrian statue of Charles IV riding horseback, commonly known as "El Caballito" (The Little Horse).
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Plaza Manuel Tolsá |
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My head almost blocking El Caballito |
Once we had filled our bellies and relaxed a bit, Jaime suggested we visit one of the oldest traditional sweet shops a few blocks away, which would eventually lead us to the downtown square or el zocalo. We were nuts to go that deep into downtown as so many people were gathering after having been locked away by COVID-19's restrictive measures. In this area, my Abuelo, or grandfather worked as a business owner/shopkeeper with his brother. They were the first people in Mexico to sell paper bags with twine handles. I have a lot of fond memories of running around the shop as a little girl and watching my Abuelo crunch some numbers with an ancient mechanical device for arithmetic calculations (manual calculator) that made a thrilling mechanical sound. Today the family business is managed by my aunt Guadalupe, but it is no longer in downtown Mexico City.
After a few quick pictures of some of the city centre's architecture, I indulged Jaime with the magic of Uber and he was happy to be whisked away to his sanctuary where I noticed he started snoring the minute he hit the couch. After being refueled by a couple of hours of watching TV, I turned off the lights and flopped into bed myself. After all, a girl needs her beauty sleep before another day of museums and culture (Spoiler alert, Jaime would bow out).
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Celaya sweet shop founded 1874 | Downtown government buildings and city square |
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Jaime is almost comatose by this point |
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The Zocalo |
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Pedestrian Street, Avenida Madero |
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The department store my Abuela used to bring me to |
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Mexico City Cathedral |
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