An artist of the people
December 28, 2007 San Miguel de Allende

Art Opening Artemio Sepúlveda Fri, Jan 4, 5–8pm Galería Casa Diana Recreo 48

Galería Casa Diana will inaugurate an individual show on Friday, January 4, presenting the work of Artemio Sepulveda. Sepúlveda’s San Miguel exhibition will feature his newest body of work, focused on the subjects of maternity and womanhood. The collection encompasses portraits of mothers with their children and images of prostitutes, women whom the artist imbues with strength, fantastic grotesqueness, and unparalleled beauty. “Throughout my career I have always been dedicated to social issues. I deal with prostitution no only through their images, but through politics as well,” says Sepúlveda, in an attempt to explain his commitment to his subjects.

All are invited to the cocktail reception, where you can meet this extraordinary painter. “I have never given a solo show before,” says Carmen Gutierrez, owner of Galería Casa Diana, “but Sepúlveda’s work is so amazing and so important that I’m willing to take a risk.” The show will be open until February 2.

More on this important artist in the January 4 edition.

Art in the Park partners up with Molinos de Viento

Art Opening Art in the Park Sat, Dec 29, 11am–8pm Molinos de Viento Mesones 79

On Saturday, December 29, artist collective Molinos de Viento will host the children’s art program, “Art in the Park” painting class and exhibit the young artists’ work in the Molinos de Viento gallery.

“This is a great way to celebrate the end of the year and give the children, their familes and the community a chance to see the program “in action” and show their work in a professional gallery,” says Nina Wisniewski, the founder of the program. The framed pieces are for sale; proceeds divided equally between the child artist, the program and the gallery.

We invite you to visit Molinos de Viento, Saturday from 11am–1pm for the painting class. The exhibition of the children’s work can be seen Saturday, December 29 from 11am–8pm and Sunday, December 30 from 11am–6pm.

Collecting the art of the people
By Linda Lowery

This article first appeared in Atención, February 9, 2007.

They love Mexico. They love its culture and history, color and textures, its myth and its magic. They spend their time, money and energy traveling to far-off villages on buying adventures. Yet not one of them is a Mexican national.

They are relocated foreigners who own folk art galleries in San Miguel and whose lives and work are deeply rooted in all things Mexican.

Step into any one of their shops and you find yourself in a colorfully indigenous microcosm of the country. There are scarlet devil masks, candy pink muñeca dolls, barrel-sized green ceramic pineapples.

Tomato gods dance on earthy amate bark paper, trees of life burst with activity, papier Mâché dragons, painted in pointillist style, breathe silvery fire. It’s the villages of Guerrero and Oaxaca, Chiapas and Michoacán, Puebla and Jalisco, all in one place. 

“Foreigners are a powerful driving force behind the preservation and continuation of the Mexican indigenous arts,”says Bill LeVasseur, who, with his wife, Heidi, owns Casa de la Cuesta B & B and its newly opened mask museum, The Other Face of Mexico. “That is not to suggest that Mexicans don’t have a passion for ethnic arts,” LeVasseur adds.

But as US culture has grown more homogenous, the sharp cultural diversity within Mexico is delightfully appealing to foreigners.

“Here, big cities have vast, defined differences in dress, food and speech,” he says. In the States, the blending has created a sameness in urban communities from Pensacola to Cleveland to Sacramento. Outlying Mexican villages, where most indigenous art is created, retain even more dramatic diversity.

The staggering selection inside a folk art gallery can be a bit overwhelming. Within minutes, our senses are reeling from the abundance of milagros, ceramics, dance costumes, weavings, wooden carvings, paper toys and sculpted clay. Not to mention many unfamiliar symbols and images. More often than not, we long for a little more context. 

What’s authentic and what’s cranked out for the tourist market? Who are those cut-paper creatures in bare feet? Should we be frightened by that leering mask, horsehair jutting from its cheeks? How old is it? And are we supposed to care how old it is? We want to be enlightened. 

The art of the people

“Mexican Folk Art is the story of the Americas,” says Deb Hall, who considers customer enlightenment a key part of her job as owner of the Zócalo gallery in centro, where she and her husband Rick display and sell an extensive variety of ethnic arts. “It is a nonverbal history—the complex world expressed in simplest art form,” says Deb.

A bona fide category of fine art, folk art, according to educators, generally falls into four categories: traditional, contemporary, mass market and outsider (prison or mental institution art). Although it takes endlessly varied forms of expression, the art is all rooted in the mythology, history and tradition of the indigenous peoples. Rick Hall explains it this way: “Folk art is organic, coming from the life and heart of the villagers. It is as integral to Mexican life as corn.”


“It is an emotional art form,” says Evita Avery, who owns a small, jam-packed tienda called La Calaca. “It is all about your home, your god and your family.” Every emotion is evident: playfulness, joy and serenity are juxtaposed with terror, sadness and frenzy. 

Artists work from their homes, often with a scarcity of materials, so “found” objects—aluminum foil, cardboard, chicken bones, marbles, animal fur—are used right along with clay, paint, thread and wood.

“Artisans may be unschooled, but not untrained,” Heidi LeVasseur points out. “They study with fathers or grandmothers, aunts or uncles or brothers.” These teachers pass on secrets—ancient mythology, symbols, forms and materials from pre-Hispanic culture—which are woven into the work. 

The cut papers of Humberto Trejo González, for example, are made of the bark of the Jonote tree, and are still used as magical objects in healing ceremonies in San Pablito, Puebla. “The paper sheets are cut to depict various Otomí spirits, both good and evil,” says Heidi, who is the exclusive distributor of Humberto’s work in San Miguel. “Petitions for a good harvest contain god figures holding such crops as mango, peanuts, coffee and tomato.” 

Tradition vs. evolution

Humberto sometimes also creates neon-bright cuttings of palm trees, devoid of mythological symbols, untraditional pieces that are not nearly as interesting to Heidi.

This juggling act between innovation and tradition is an ongoing challenge for buyers. 

Understandably, materials evolve. Gold and silver leaf, common in the past, are now impossible for artisans to afford. Mineral powders, called anilines, have been replaced by modern paints.

But Mexican folk artisans, influenced by everything, display a stunning ability to meld religion, politics and news items into their traditional work. Sometimes the images are startlingly contemporary, depicting the fall of Saddam Hussein, for example, or the 9/11 devastation of the twin towers. 


“Folk art is constantly reinventing itself, and we certainly buy the new-direction work,” says Rick Hall. “But we also commission traditional work to make sure the old techniques are continued.” 

The LeVasseurs approach folk art from the historian’s perspective: its purposes, techniques, form and content, its importance in past and contemporary civilization. “In our gallery, everything has a tie to tradition, to ceremonies and rituals of the culture,” says Heidi. 

Does age count? For those interested in antique art, perhaps, says Avery, who collects clay molds used to make papier mâché masks, all predating the1940s. But generally, it’s the quality of the piece, not its age, that counts. “When Grandes Maestros die, their art dies with them,” says Avery, so their work is bought for the quality, not simply the age.

Jennifer Haas, who runs the Museo de Arte Popular at Rancho Jaguar near Atotonilco, is a collector of every conceivable type of folk art, including outsider art, which can veer toward the eccentric and edgy. She has a skull made of chicken bones, and clothing painted and worn by Don Eduardo Ramirez Lozano, a street artist who lived part of his life in a cave near San Miguel. 

Vintage tourist art is a favorite of Haas. Also called mass market art or “airport” art, it’s usually cranked out quickly and in large quantities. Hass finds interesting old tourist pieces in the States. Recently, in an antique shop in Maine, she picked up some Oaxacan plates that are no longer produced in Mexico.

Community interaction

Most gallery owners agree that their role is not to influence the direction of folk art, but to keep it alive and thriving. They have a broader and deeper drive to their work—all have an earnest love for Mexico—and they gain great satisfaction from helping the artists and their communities support themselves in part from authentic folk art. 

“It’s not as if I collect masks per se,” explains Bill LeVasseur. It is rather that he collects living history, spirit, the multi-faceted culture of Mexico. His mask hunting has taken him to remote villages to watch dancers recreate the dramatic stories of the Spanish Conquest, represent a petition for rain, or celebrate holidays like Easter, Carnival and Día de los Muertos.

The Halls always spend Day of the Dead in Michoacán. One year, they took 30 villagers from tiny Ocumicho on a field trip to a museum in Pátzcuaro. On display was clay work from the early to mid-1900s. A 10-year-old boy looked at a whistle shaped like a lady, and tears sprung to his eyes. “This is my great-aunt’s work,” he said, although there were no labels on items. Rick showed his appreciation for the piece. The following Day of the Dead, villagers greeted the Halls with 127 newly made, but authentically traditional, lady whistles. They bought them all.

Gallery work also touches the town’s local life. Twenty-five-year-old Susana Tovar was born and raised in San Miguel, and knew nothing about indigenous Mexican art until her German-born neighbor, Ilse Sheffield, offered to take her to meet some of the folk art masters. Once Susana met a maestro or two, she was hooked. She not only loved the art, but was astonished that it was produced in the midst of such dire poverty. “It made me proud to be Mexican,” says Susana. She now manages Sheffield’s Galería Mariposa, a bright, cheerful tienda that carries contemporary and traditional folk art.

What’s on the horizon? 

Communication has brought international images and contemporary history into the homes and minds of indigenous artists. Economic necessity drives artisans to create for the market. In the face of international trends and styles, will Mexico soon lose its traditional generational work and enchanting artistic diversity as well? 

According to the Halls, the horizon for folk art is brighter than ever: “As buyers, we are working to ensure that the older styles, colors and techniques will not be forgotten. Even though folk art is firmly rooted in the past, the creativity and innovations are constant.”

“I’m glad I’m living in Mexico today,” says Bill LeVasseur, “before the influence for economic gain and the influence of TV and electronics warps or morphs folk art into something less traditional. I hope it will always be here.”

“Mexican folk art always was and always will be,” says Haas. “It’s not going to go away. Here, it’s in the blood.”