Gio Swaby’s Fresh Take on Textile Portraits

The Bahamian artist is redefining portraiture — and Black women representation at museums like the Art Institute of Chicago — one stitch at a time. 

Gio Swaby’s textile portraits feature confident Black women, mixed fabrics and loose strings to juxtapose strength with so-called imperfections.

When you think of portraits, a few formats probably spring to mind: painting, photography, life drawing. But textiles?

That’s the medium Gio Swaby is rocking. The Bahamian artist uses textiles to create stunning portraits of powerful Black women. 

“Textiles are a great way to connect with people because they’re so familiar.

Everyone has some sort of relationship with textiles, whether it’s through clothing or bedding or whatever. It’s something that we can all relate to on some level.”

— Gio Swaby

New Growth Second Chapter 11 from 2021

New Growth Second Chapter 9

Textiles were in part chosen for their familiarity, their approachability. Museum-goers can feel intimidated by fine art paintings, Swaby explains. The average person often thinks that they haven’t learned how to “properly” view a work of art. 

But textiles don’t have that baggage. They’re comfortable; they’re part of our everyday lives. 

“I think that textiles are a great way to connect with people because they’re so familiar,” Swaby says. “Everyone has some sort of relationship with textiles, whether it’s through clothing or bedding or whatever. It’s something that we can all relate to on some level.”

The Gylavantin’ series created in 2021

A Love Letter to Black Womanhood 

Born in 1991 in Nassau, Bahamas, Swaby grew up with a seamstress mother who taught her how to sew and inspired her artistic vision. She studied art at the University of the Bahamas, Emily Carr University of Art and Design and OCAD University, and now lives and works in Toronto, Ontario in Canada. 

Swaby has described her work as a love letter to Blackness and womanhood, a celebration of personal style and identity, and a challenge to the stereotypes and expectations that often limit the representation of Black women in art. Her exhibition Fresh Up, which we saw recently at the Art Institute of Chicago, is her first solo museum show. 

With each stitch and thread, Swaby masterfully brings to life the beauty and complexity of Black women in a way that’s both breathtaking and empowering. 

Another Side to Me Second Chapter 3 from 2021

Flipping Embroidery on Its Head 

How does Swaby create her portraits? It all starts with a photo session. Swaby meets with her subjects, who are mostly Black women she knows personally or admired from afar, and engages them in a conversation about their lives, their dreams, their struggles and their joys. She then captures them on camera in a moment of self-awareness and empowerment, using natural light and simple backgrounds to highlight their features and expressions. She also impresses upon the subjects that the hairstyle, clothing and jewelry are essential elements of their personal style and identity.

“An important aspect for me is to ask the sitter to choose their own outfit,” Swaby tells us. “I think it’s so important to make that person feel comfortable. I want them to choose what they feel the most beautiful in and what makes them feel the most powerful.”

Going Out Clothes 3 from 2020

Once an image is chosen, Swaby transfers the images to fabric using a sewing machine. Yes, she actually does it all on a sewing machine! She uses a freehand technique that allows her to improvise and experiment with different colors and textures of thread. 

“If I am feeling energized, I’ll start with the face or the hands,” Swaby says. “And if I’m not feeling the vibes, I will start with something that’s a little bit easier. Like if there’s a lot of stripes on the outfit. That’s pretty straightforward.”

Detail from the Gylavantin’ series

She also uses different types of fabric, such as cotton, denim, silk and velvet, to create contrast and depth. 

Swaby says that she works intuitively and quickly. “I don’t like to overthink things. I like to just go with what feels right in the moment. What I want to capture is their true essence.”

Another Side to Me 2 from 2020

The final step is to flip the fabric over and present the reverse side of her work. This is where Swaby’s process becomes radical. Instead of hiding the stitching process, she exposes it and celebrates it. 

“I wanted to have some moments of surprise, a new appreciation for the irregularities, the loose threads, the places where I lifted up the canvas before moving on to another area,” Swaby says. “I think there is beauty in imperfection. Why not celebrate it?” 

Pretty Pretty 7 from 2021

She explains that this is a way of honoring the labor and care that goes into each portrait, as well as embracing the vulnerability and humanity of her subjects. It’s a way of challenging the expectations and stereotypes that often limit the representation of Blacks in art. She wants to show them as they are: beautiful but not idealized, complex but not exoticized, powerful but not threatening.

Pretty Pretty 5

The first time she displayed the underside of a stitched rendering was with her Another Side to Me series. “As textile-based makers, this is the part of our work that we tend to conceal,” she says. “I’ve always found a kind of beauty in these ‘flaws.’” 

The New Growth series on display at the Fresh Up exhibit in Chicago

A Fresh Take on Collaboration for Fresh Up

Swaby’s exhibition Fresh Up is not just a collection of her works, but also a reflection of her vision and involvement. Swaby collaborated with the curators of the Art Institute of Chicago to create a show that showcases her range and diversity as an artist. The exhibition brings together seven of Swaby’s recent series, such as Love Letters and Pretty Pretty, along with approximately 15 new works, including her largest work to date, a commission for the U.S. embassy in Nassau.

An illustrated catalogue includes an interview between Swaby and Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones, as well as essays by the curators and contributions from Swaby herself. 

Swaby joined the Art Institute team to stage the show and write the descriptions of the art. At the talk Duke and I attended with our friend, Ivan, the museum’s staff kept gushing about how awesome it was to work with a living artist, to have the opportunity to install an exhibit with the artist’s input. 

The feeling was mutual: “Being able to work with the conservation team was one of the most exciting parts about having this exhibition here and being able to be here in person to see how it all works,” Swaby says. 

Love Letter 8 from 2021

The title of the exhibit, Fresh Up, is a Bahamian phrase used as a way to compliment someone’s style or confidence — elements Swaby wants to highlight in her subjects. It’s a phrase that exudes positivity, joy and self-love. 

“Life has so many variations — why not have this moment of representing and being able to celebrate many different kinds of people and also highlight the fact that Black women are not monolithic?” Swaby says. “We are all different, unique individuals.” 

Sew true! –Wally

Standards of Beauty (and Ugliness) in African Art

From scarification to the ideal male and female, discover what Westerners get wrong about how Sub-Saharan sculptures and other works of art are viewed in their own cultures. 

A ritual dance in Guinea, Africa features a Baga nimba or d’mba headdress, seen in the upper right corner, which represents the ideal fertile woman.

Westerners have collected African art for centuries. But do they really understand it? Who determines what is beautiful and what is ugly in African art? Can viewers judge art solely by the standards of beauty in their own culture?

That’s the question a recent exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago sought to answer. The collection was massive, taking up six or so rooms, filled with over 250 works of art from dozens of cultures across Sub-Saharan Africa. 

The idea is to put art in its cultural context. How did the local communities view these works of art? And how were they used? 

“For some African cultures, scarification, including on the face, is a way to enhance someone’s beauty — especially that of a woman. ”

There’s often a religious aspect to these works. “So the art is not made just to be art,” says Constantine Petridis, chair and curator of arts of Africa at the Art Institute. “It’s art that serves a purpose, serves a function and has a meaning. And that contributes in a very deep and integral way to the survival and the wellbeing of both individuals and societies.” 

Much of this art is literally thought to save lives: It guards ancestors’ remains or fends off evil spirits. 

A Mangbetu woman in 1913 wearing a halo hairstyle with ivory pins, popular in the Democratic Republic of the Congo

African Art Viewed Through an African Lens

It’s time we reevaluated standards of beauty — and understood that what’s attractive or powerful to a Western audience could be very different than that of a Sub-Saharan group. 

“The hope is also to erase prejudices and preconceived notions that have, for a very long time, prevented people from appreciating this art,” Petridis says.

Let’s take a look at some of the commonalities found throughout African art — and see that beauty is more than skin deep.

Male guardian reliquary figures with the heads of children but muscular bodies of adults. Teeth have been sealed behind the eyes to help the statues act as intermediaries with ancestors.

Masculinity is depicted with youthful, muscular bodies and large hands and feet. 

In many African cultures, the ideal male figure is tall and lean, with long limbs, an elongated neck and muscular calves. Why? These physical attributes are deemed necessary to transport heavy loads on the head and to work hard in the fields.

“A youthful appearance in general connotes fertility and also good health and the capability of doing hard work,” Petridis says. 

Large hands and feet are seen as representing the energy and endurance needed on a hunting expedition. 

A statue of the Chokwe mythological hero Chibinda Ilunga, a legendary hunter, made in Angola in 1850

These physical characteristics are often depicted in African sculpture to emphasize physical prowess — essential in a society where men are responsible for hunting, farming and other demanding activities.

A ndop portrait figure of King Mishe miShyaang maMbul, made about 1770 in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The oversized head symbolizes intelligence.

Works of art depicting male beauty aren’t just for aesthetic appreciation, though; they serve a vital purpose.

“All of these attributes represent or express political and religious authority, and as such, these objects would have been placed on an altar to serve to fight physical as well as metaphysical threats,” Petridis adds. 

A depiction of Kaatyeleo, the Ancient Mother, who nurses babies with the milk of knowledge and evokes authoritative power

The feminine ideal is voluptuous — big belly, rounded hips, a large butt — and sometimes sports a long neck.

The ideal female figure has been a subject of fascination and inspiration for artists throughout history, and African art is no exception. In African sculpture, the ideal female figure is often depicted as having a curvaceous body with wide hips and full breasts. These features are seen as symbols of fertility, femininity and maternal strength.

A portrait of a queen, the wife of King Njike, from early 20th century Cameroon. It once stood in front of the royal palace.

While the exact proportions of the ideal female figure vary between African cultures, there are some common elements frequently seen across the continent. For example, in West Africa, the ideal female figure is often portrayed with a prominent belly and rounded buttocks, while in East Africa, the focus is more on the breasts and elongated neck.

The curvaceous figure of the ideal woman is seen as a reflection of her role as a caretaker and nurturer, responsible for raising healthy children and maintaining a strong family.

An ikam crest mask from Nigeria depicts the fantastical hairstyles girls had created for their initiation into womanhood. Incidentally, these “beautiful maiden” masks were worn by men.

Female figures are frequently depicted with intricate hairstyles and elaborate jewelry, which are seen as a reflection of high status and beauty.

A mwana pwo or pwo mask from Angola is more realistic than other depictions of beauty in African art. It features elements a Westerner wouldn’t consider attractive, including extensive scarification and chipped teeth.

Scarification is considered beautiful. 

This particular aspect of beauty is probably the most difficult for Westerners to grasp. (Then again, look at our obsession with tattoos.) Scarification, a form of body modification that involves creating designs or patterns on skin by cutting or branding, has been practiced for centuries.

Originally used as a post on a veranda in Nigeria, this carving is of a senior royal wife was created by a famous artist, Olówé of Ise. The scarification indicates her high status.

For some African cultures, scarification, including on the face, is a way to enhance someone’s beauty — especially that of a woman. 

Ogo Esu, god of the marketplace, the only orisha, or deity, consistently represented in human form. In Nigeria, his followers would dance with a staff like this, which has a phallic headpiece and cowrie shells associated with wealth.

Morality is synonymous with beauty.

In many African cultures, the concept of beauty is closely tied to morality and ethics. This is reflected in the use of a single word to describe both beauty and goodness. Likewise, the same word is often used to convey ugliness and immorality, highlighting the deep connection between physical appearance and moral character. 

A mbwoongntey, a cup used for palm wine in the Congo

Smooth skin is attractive.

While scarification has been a long-standing tradition in African art, the idea of smooth skin as a standard of beauty is also prevalent. In many African cultures, smooth, flawless skin is considered attractive, healthy and a sign of good hygiene. To achieve that look, some sculptures are polished to a bright shine using leaves or stones. 

But the idea of beauty extends beyond the individual. “A smooth surface is a metaphor for smooth, harmonious social relationships,” Petridis explains.

On the flip side, crusty, rough surfaces are seen as ugly.

A group of dancers from Guinea wearing Bamana Komo helmets with elements from the hyena, a nighttime scavenger.

Ugliness is tied to nature, the wilderness and animals, whereas beauty is connected to humans, the village and community. 

Nature spirits are thought to cause misfortune, illness and even death. Some sculptures were designed to be so strikingly beautiful they would lure in spirits, and the figure would take possession of them, avoiding the trouble they would have otherwise caused. 

“The sculpture becomes an abode, a home for the spirit, and it will receive offerings in order to keep it happy, and therefore remedy the problem in question,” Petridis explains.

This Baule monkey figure from the Côte d’Ivoire features a baboon-headed man representing a bush spirit and untamed wildness.

There’s a duality common throughout Africa: culture vs. nature, community vs. the wilderness. As such, idealized beauty is always presumed to be of human origin, associated with the realm of the village and society. 

At the other end of the spectrum, ugliness correlates with the wild and untamed realm of the jungle outside the boundaries of the village. The works that are deliberately created to be ugly reflect the widely shared belief that coarse and asymmetrical animal-like forms correspond with bad character, malignant magic and death. 

This dichotomy reflects the central role of community and social harmony in African cultures — and the threats that come from the untamed, uncontrolled and unpredictable aspects of nature.

This ngolo mask from the DRC features antelope horns to convey courage, while its protruding eyes signal aggression in the hopes of discouraging outsiders from approaching a boys’ training camp.

“Artists who intend to instill fear through their objects may represent ugliness by mimicking or referencing animals, especially powerful and fearsome ones,” Petridis says. “Additional features will be incorporated into fantastic compositions that comprise elements sourced literally from the natural world — actual animal parts: hides, horns, teeth, fur.”

Ugliness in African art has a power of its own. “They turn it into a dark, dangerous object, an object that inspires fear and terror and therefore also power and authority,” he continues. 

Antelope horns sit atop a nkisi figure from the DRC that depicts a blacksmith from folklore. It held great power and was created to protect an entire village.

Some art has elements of both beauty and ugliness and is meant to astonish. 

Petridis refers to this as “awesome art,” what Westerners might call the sublime. They are meant to both fascinate and terrify.

Nails are driven into a nkisi nkondi, like this one from the DRC, to atone for transgressions. If someone breaks an oath made to the figurine, it’s said to come to life to mete out justice.

“In a literal sense, it refers to objects that are meant to be awe-inspiring. They will literally stop you in your tracks,” he says. “And these objects are considered to be both beautiful and ugly, both terrorizing and attractive at once.”

A large d’mba shoulder mask used during ceremonies features scarification and pendulous breasts — aspects of the feminine ideal among the Baga people of Guinea.

Beauty Is in the Eye of the Beholder

When judging African art, see where there are overlaps or differences from your own preconceived notions, Petridis suggests. Always keep in mind that African art should always be viewed through the language and vocabulary of the culture it comes from.

“Beauty is essential and important and critical in the arts of Africa as well,” he concludes. “But it’s not necessarily the beauty that you as an outsider would see in it.” 

To avoid imposing your own tastes and preferences on art objects, you have to be open to learn and read about the culture in which they function, and what meanings and purposes they convey. And that new understanding is a thing of beauty. –Wally

Oddities Flea Market: A Bizarre Bazaar of Unforgettable Finds

Regina and Ryan Cohn’s warped brainchild is a fantastic journey of curious collectibles.

The Oddities Flea Market is filled with items to start your own cabinet of curiosities.

When I asked Wally about attending the Oddities Flea Market, an event that brings together vendors from all over the country to sell their unusual wares, his answer was a resounding yes. (Actually, he probably looked at me and said, “Uh, duh.”)

We knew we were kindred spirits when we met — but before Wally, I identified as a minimalist. He’s a maximalist and loves collecting things. Turns out that when a minimalist moves in with a maximalist, you end up with just a little bit more stuff. I decided to embrace the aesthetic and figure out ways to creatively curate vignettes. Eventually, I succumbed and became a maximalist, too. 

Our burgeoning collection of oddities consists of a human skull named Malachi that’s supposedly a World War II trophy, a taxidermied squirrel with an Elizabethan lace collar, a two-headed African fetish figure, or nkondi, stuck full of nails, and a mummified llama fetus our friend Hugo picked up for Wally in Ecuador — to name just a few. 

When it came to the fair, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew that local chef Halee Raff of Hardbitten would be there with her elevated and colorful riff on Pop-Tarts, as well as Woolly Mammoth, one of our favorite shops in the Andersonville neighborhood, but other than that I wasn’t sure what we’d find. 

Vendors from around the country have booths at the market.

Embracing the Strange: The Birth of the Oddities Flea Market

The Oddities Flea Market was founded by Regina and Ryan Cohn about six years ago. Ryan was well-versed in buying and collecting antiques and oddities while Regina was making a name for herself in fashion. They combined their passions into a traveling emporium that celebrates the weird and wonderful. 

Their first market launched in 2017 and introduced the concept of oddity collecting to the general public at the now-shuttered Brooklyn Bazaar. Since then, the Cohns have expanded to additional markets in Los Angeles and Chicago. “It’s only the second time we’ve been to Chicago,” Ryan told us. “So it was a nice reintroduction.”

I am doll parts: some of the creepy-cute creations from Sideshow Gallery

This year the Chicago market was held over two days in April at Morgan Manufacturing. The red brick building predates the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and acts as an industrial chic event space in the hip West Loop neighborhood. 

We weren’t alone in our curiosity for curiosities. When we arrived at 11 a.m. for VIP early access, there was already a small queue forming. Some lucky attendees had planned ahead and signed up to take a cat skeleton articulation class taught by Ryan. By the time we had gotten our tickets, the workshop was sold out. Next time. Maybe. 

Death masks on display from Wooly Mammoth

Not for the Faint of Heart: Entering the Fair

After checking in, we passed a booth which featured a selection of T-shirts and totes for sale (black, of course). We took a closer look and noticed that the screen-printed images were of Ryan’s personal work — Beauchêne, also known as the art of the exploded human skull.

The soundtrack for the event was provided by Dead Animal Assembly Plant, spinning songs near the entrance, with a backdrop of projections of creepy vintage cartoons. 

Spooky and silly classic cartoons played above DJs from Dead Animal Assembly Plant.

Wally and I couldn’t help but salivate as we passed by the selection of Hardbitten’s delectable baked goods. Nearby, the sophisticated cocktail bar offered a variety of specialty drinks, each with an intriguing name: Memento Mori, Sideshow, the Veneration, Wunderkammer. No judging, but it was a bit early for us to imbibe. If you were seeking a caffeine fix, Spiritus Coffee from Lombard, Illinois was the place to go.

A seclection of Hardbitten’s treats, including their riffs on Pop-Tarts

We wandered through the market, discovering an impressive variety of wondrous wares: natural history specimens, taxidermy (both artistic and traditional), creative jewelry and a few truly macabre specimens. Here are a few of our favorites. 

A woman poses for her tintype photo from Blkk Hand.

A Handful of Shadows: Blkk Hand

St. Paul-based photographer Carla Alexandra Rodriguez uses an old-school process known as wet-plate collodion to create eerily beautiful tintype portraits. This method, which dates back to the 1850s, requires precise chemistry, accurate timing and a classic large-format camera. 

Silver nitrate is used in the processing of tinplate photography and is a highly reactive chemical that can cause skin to turn black if it’s not handled properly. Her studio, Blkk Hand takes its name from this phenomenon — and is why Carla always wears gloves when working. 

Nora Past, seen in a developing tintype photo, assisted at the booth.

How’s it work? The process begins with coating a metal plate with a collodion solution that contains a mixture of alcohol, ether and silver nitrate. Each plate is exposed to light in the camera, which converts the silver nitrate to silver metal. 

This challenging and time-consuming method produces incredibly detailed images with an ethereal quality, capturing the beauty of a moment in a way that no other type of photography can.

Memento Mori Los Angeles co-sponsored the flea market.

Death Becomes Them: Memento Mori Los Angeles

Our favorite booth at the flea market belonged to Memento Mori Los Angeles, run by Brad and Deidre Hartman, a Cali-based duo who create beautiful and macabre works of art. Their pieces are a reminder of the inevitability of death, while also celebrating the beauty of life.

Among their fascinating objects were skulls, insects, crystals, jewelry, and an assortment of devotional candles featuring musical artists like Siouxsie Sioux and Nick Cave. We were mesmerized at the offerings, including a riff on the infamous Fiji mermaid hoax, a glass cloche containing human teeth and a basket filled with supple leathered purses made from genuine cane toads. I was skeptical at first when I picked one up to examine it — but it was definitely real. Don’t feel too bad, though. These amphibians were originally introduced as a means of pest control, but ended up becoming an invasive species. So now, instead of eating cane beetles, they’re just hanging out as purses and looking cute. I suppose there are worse fates. 

A replica of the Fiji mermaid, a Witchling chick and other artistic takes on taxidermy from Memento Mori Los Angeles

I was particularly drawn to their Witchlings, yellow ducklings wearing tiny witch hats, as well as a two-headed duckling called Double Trouble. Brad and Deidre’s work is a reminder to live life to the fullest and to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us, even in death.

Playful fake taxidermied heads on display at the Odds and Ends booth

Faux Real: Odds and Ends 

We stopped by Odds and Ends, featuring the work of Atlanta-based Chloë Grass, who creates quirky faux taxidermy trophies and other oddities. She studied at the Arts University Bournemouth in the U.K., where she honed her skills in prosthetics sculpting and special effects makeup.

I loved her double-headed lamb, which was both cute and creepy. (I’m realizing I have a thing for two-headed creatures.) It was definitely a conversation starter, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw it. Chloë’s creations reflect my favorite type of art: whimsical and a little bit weird.

A selection of vintage fake eyes at Eyeba’s booth

I Only Have Eyes for You: Eyeba

We were blown away by Brooklyn-based jeweler Amanda Maer Huan’s booth at the flea market, Eyeba. She takes antique prosthetic eyes and sets them in sterling silver to create rings, pendants and other fine jewelry.

As we browsed her wares, Amanda gave us a brief education on the myth of the round glass eye. While the visible portion of the prosthesis appears round, the part that sits within the eye socket is actually curved like a pasta shell. They’re custom-made to match the size and color of the wearer’s functioning eye. 

Windows to your soul? Amazing rings from Eyeba

The rings were hypnotic. I had to literally drag Wally away.

Deadskull Curio had the most macabre offerings at the market.

A Portal to Another World: Deadskull Curio 

Deadskull Curio was the most global booth at the Oddities Flea Market. It had everything from hand-carved wood masks to antique Asian marionette puppets to Tibetan kapala skull cups. They even had black and white morgue and crime scene photos from the 1960s, vertebrae and a horrific preserved cat’s head in a jar of formaldehyde.

The collection of death photos had a warning

The booth is owned by Paul Abrahamian, who, randomly, competed in two seasons of Big Brother. He was a cool guy who was obviously passionate about his collection. Items were flying off the shelves as we were looking at them — but we decided to pass on the cat’s head specimen. It would have been like having a pet cemetery in our living room, and we’re not sure our cat Bowzer would have appreciated it.

The saucy teacups from Miss Havisham’s Curiosities were inspired by the owner’s cheeky grandmother.

Steeped in Humor: Miss Havisham’s Curiosities 

Miss Havisham's Curiosities is a line of insult teacups created by Melissa Johnson. The idea was inspired by two sources: the jilted bride trapped in time in Charles Dickens’ novel Great Expectations, and Melissa’s grandmother, who expressed herself by writing offensive things on broken or chipped teacups with nail polish and then selling them at her antique shop.

On the outside, these teacups are proper, often vintage, china. But on the inside, they’re hiding naughty surprises: cheeky insults written in cursive:  “Syphilitic,” “No one likes you!” and “Not today, Satan!” The teacups are the perfect way to spill the tea and say what you really mean…without actually having to say it.

Hidden in the Poison Forest, 2021

We were drawn to Katie Gamb’s artwork because of its twee yet sinister quality.

Sugar and Spice, But Not Everything Nice: Katie Gamb 

Katie Gamb is a Milwaukee-based artist who creates whimsical and macabre worlds in her illustrations. Her work is a love letter to a childhood spent lost in books, where animals, humans and monsters like skeletons all live together in a world of wonder. As Wally and I looked at her work, I turned to him and said, “They’re adorable at first glance — but they get a little creepy when you look closer.”

“That’s exactly what I go for,” Katie said, smiling at us.

My Heart’s Still Beating, 2019

Like much of the art we appreciate, Gamb’s works tread the line between creepy and cute.

One piece depicted a bird fluttering within the rib cage of a skeleton, while another showed a girl dressed as a ghost in a forest of poisonous plants. Katie’s imagination is a portal to a strange and wondrous world, where anything is possible. I regret not circling back to purchase a sticker featuring a sad cat playing an accordion with a feather sticking out of its mouth.

Katie’s work reminds us that the world isn’t always as it seems. There’s beauty in the darkness.

Feral Femme Art’s booth evoked a freakshow from the past with interactive artworks.

Step Right Up, Folks: Feral Femme Art

We ended the show at the Feral Femme Art booth, with a conversation with Rachaela DiRosaria, a New Orleans-based folk artist who creates assemblages that evoke the nostalgia of Depression-era circus and sideshow advertising. Their hand-painted figures and moveable parts bring these sideshow performers and circus freaks to life. 

Artist Rachaela DiRosaria posing with Zach Wager, who spun records at the market.

Inveterate

Funhouse

The Tattooed Woman

Rachaela’s work is infused with a dark humor that’s both playful and unsettling — an interactive stagecraft of delight.

Double Trouble has found a new home amid the other oddities chez Duke and Wally.

After making our way through the different vendors, I turned to Wally and said, “I’d like to go back and get Double Trouble. Are you cool with that?” To which Wally replied, “Obvi.” 

Exploring the Oddities Flea Market was a quirky adventure that appealed to our inner freaks, and we’re glad we had the chance to attend. 

The next iteration will be held at the Globe Theatre in LA on October 7, 2023 — a perfect day, in my humble opinion, as it’s also my birthday.  –Duke

Crazy, Cartoonish, Controversial: The Art of Mu Pan

A Q&A with the avant-garde artist who creates elaborate hellscapes of violence and monsters and has been featured in the horror film Midsommar. 

Me Like Sushi by Mu Pan, 2015

Monkeys and human-headed crows eating sushi off a screaming woman. A multi-armed Christ shooting machine guns. A yak-headed samurai slicing a cowboy in half. Countless battles between bizarre beasts. Oh, and a creepy mural that foreshadows the dread to come in the horror flick Midsommar. 

“Every monster I draw is actually a self-portrait. ”

— Mu Pan, American Fried Rice 

Looking at the scope of his elaborate artworks, you notice certain themes: Mu Pan holds a cynical and misanthropic view of human nature and society. His paintings are used to express his anger and frustration with the issues he cares about, such as racism, colonialism, U.S. politics and pop culture.

Yes, if there’s one thing the artist Mu Pan isn’t afraid to be, it’s provocative.

Mu Pan’s epic-scale nightmares depict violence, gore, sex and, yes, humor. His art is like if Hieronymus Bosch and Henry Darger had a half-aborted fetus. 

Rabbits by Mu Pan, 2020

He challenges viewers to confront their own prejudices and to question the narratives they’ve been told.

“Drawing and painting are for me the most obvious ways to claim justice,” Mu Pan says in his book American Fried Rice. “I use creation as a pretext to highlight everything I dislike such as violence, conflict or lies.”

When Duke and I saw Mu Pan’s work, it was love at first sight. 

The artist at work

A Brief Bio of Mu Pan

The artist known as Mu Pan was born in Taichung City, Taiwan in 1976. He grew up there and emigrated to the United States with his parents in 1997. He studied at the School of Visual Arts in New York City, where he obtained a bachelor’s degree in illustration in 2001 and a master’s in illustration as visual essay in 2007. He lives and works in Brooklyn.

“Now I’m just bitter,” Mu Pan says in American Fried Rice. “I hate everybody equally. I’m not American, but I’m also not Chinese anymore. I’m glad I have both and I don’t have both.”

From the Compendium of Materia MUdica by Mu Pan, 2020

We were intrigued. So we reached out to Mu Pan to see if he’d answer some of our questions. To our surprise and delight, he obliged us. 

Some of his responses are head-scratchers — but that’s part of why we’re so fascinated with him. –Wally

Detail from The Loyal Retainers Part VI: South China Sea, 2016

Q&A With Mu Pan

What influences your artwork? 

Ancient art — the less sophisticated the better. Anything that has no Western influence. 

I used to be so into Japanese woodblock prints, but now I don’t feel anything for them anymore.

I listen to audiobooks while I work. 

When I was younger, I was influenced a lot by Louis Cha. Now I’m more into Mo Yan. Most images I make are stolen from books. 

I also get influenced by Hong Kong and Japanese cinema from the ’80s and ’90s.

Whale Explosion by Mu Pan, 2018

What artists do you love? 

I don’t love any living artists. I kinda hate them. Cuz they all make much more money than me and I don’t think my talent is less than theirs. They are just businesspeople. I can tell you I hate Murakami the most. And yes, I said that.

Also, I hate their fans to like my work. 

My favorite dead artist is Henry Darger. When I get frustrated and depressed, I think of him, then I can keep going on.

Momlego Egg by Mu Pan, 2023

What part does folklore play in your art?

I am more into history than folklore. 

Mu Pan’s Dinoasshole Chapter 1 by Mu Pan, 2016

There’s a violence to your art but also a playfulness. Can you talk about that?

My violence is cartoon. I am a very peaceful person indeed. I just have too much anger. And when I am angry at someone or something, I just purely wish the person would die in the most painful way.

And I hate being pretentious. I don’t believe that there is anyone in this world who doesn’t enjoy vengeance and violence. Our history is made of that, and even the Bible is full of violence.

I see that being fake and nice is worse than violence, and I still believe that violence is the ultimate method used to solve problems. Just look at the U.S.  government — they rely on violence and power. And they are pretentious as hell.

Mu Pan’s studio. Even though there are two works in progress, he told us he can only work on one at a time.

Tell us about your process. 

It really depends on how I feel. I don’t like to do small pieces, cuz I like to show off my strength that others don’t have — especially doing tiny figures on a big scale. I like to do things that people are not willing to, and I will not be submissive to anyone. You can call that stupidity, and I admit that I am stupid. 

Each piece takes a long time to make, because I don’t prepare — neither do I like to make any sketches. Sketches are for products, illustrations or to feed a dumb audience. I draw as I think, and I often erase everything I did the day before.

Life is too short. Being myself is more important than making others happy.

From the series Shit History of China by Mu Pan, 2010

You were born in Taiwan and identify as Chinese. How does your heritage influence your worldview?

I am Chinese because my father is Chinese, and so was his father and his father before him.

My grandfathers fought the Japanese, and we were never colonized. 

If you ask Bruce Lee if he is Chinese, he would say yes for sure — even though he was born in San Francisco and raised in Hong Kong. 

I don’t give a shit about Western ideology. 

Be There Soon by Mu Pan, 2023

When did you first get into drawing? 

Since the first time I could make a mark on a piece of paper with a pencil.

Mu Pan created the ominous mural featured in the movie Midsommar.

Tell us about your collaboration with Ari Aster, director of Midsommar. 

Ari is a cool guy. I met him when he asked me to make the opening image for Midsommar. He is very busy and I don’t get to talk to him much. But we have been friends ever since then.

I asked him for a favor to write the forward of my book.

Centro Cultural San Pablo: A Hidden Wonder in Oaxaca

An art-filled secret alley, award-winning design and a mission to preserve the indigenous heritage of the region, thanks in part to the Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova. Oaxaca’s cultural center is where culture and community come together. 

The cool stonework in the passage leading to the cultural center

It opens up like a secret passage. At first we noticed the distinctive and charming herringbone pattern on the ground, chevrons of stone interspersed with grass. 

We were drawn toward it, mesmerized. Then we looked up and around — and discovered a wonderland squeezed between two massive edifices. We had happened upon the art-filled alleyway that leads to the Centro Cultural San Pablo in the Mexican art-filled and mezcal-soaked town of Oaxaca. 

The Alleyway Art Spaces at Centro Cultural San Pablo

Outside the Centro Cultural San Pablo, in the alleyway that leads to its entrance, there’s a gallery to the left if you enter off of Miguel Hidalgo, as well as a smaller exhibit space at the other end (which had a three-dimensional re-creation of Van Gogh’s painting Bedroom in Arles). 

It’s not hard to figure out what this portion is called the Plaza de los Paraguas (Umbrella Plaza).

A diorama at one end of the alley was a real-life re-creation of Van Gogh’s painting Bedroom in Arles.

But the alley itself is the coolest part. It’s like walking through an immersive art exhibit — and it’s free for all to enjoy. At its center is the Plaza de los Paraguas, or Umbrella Plaza, an art installation of colorful umbrellas that form a canopy overhead. 

Once you’ve had your fun exploring the alley, it’s time to head into the cultural center — which is no less impressive. 

The interior courtyard of the Centro Cultural San Pablo had seats set up for a musical performance.

Convent-Turned-Cultural-Gem: Centro Cultural San Pablo 

The Centro Cultural San Pablo is housed in a massive structure that was originally a convent for the Dominican order back in the 16th century — and shares the building with the boutique hotel we stayed at, Casa Antonieta, and the Oaxaca Textile Museum. A local philanthropic organization, the Alfred Harp Helú Foundation, spent 186 million pesos (about $10 million) to acquire and renovate the building.

And what a job they did! The cultural center opened in 2011. Once you step inside, you completely forget you’re in an ancient edifice. In an interview with ArchDaily, Gabriela Carrillo explained that when designing the cultural center, she and her partner, Mauricio Rocha, were inspired by the traditional architecture of Oaxaca. “We were looking for a language that would allow the building to be understood as part of the city,” she said. “We didn’t want it to be a foreign object that just landed there.” 

That may be the case, but in a colorful, charming and crumbling town, it certainly feels fresh and sleek. The duo has ingeniously blended a modern flair with traditional elements. 

Three sides of the main space feel as if they haven’t been updated much since the nuns made this their home. But one wall is a work of art — three stories entirely encased in glass with steel frames.  

“Our work is about finding a balance between the past and the future, between tradition and innovation,” Rocha told Wallpaper*. 

Mission accomplished. But the Centro Cultural San Pablo isn’t just a pretty face — it’s also a multifunctional space that serves the community. “The design is driven by the idea of being a cultural platform that can adapt to different types of events,” Carillo explained. 

The roof of the cultural center retracts to be open to the sky on nice days.

Rocha and Carrillo’s work on the Centro Cultural San Pablo has helped to cement their reputation as some of Mexico’s most talented architects. Their design scored them the prestigious World Architecture Festival’s Building of the Year Award in the Culture category in 2018. The project was also a finalist for the Mies Crown Hall Americas Prize and was selected for the ArchDaily Building of the Year Award in 2019.   

A wander through the first-floor gallery

A Creative Hub and Cultural Playground: Exploring the Vibrant Events Scene at Centro Cultural San Pablo

Since it opened in 2011, the Centro Cultural San Pablo has become a beloved institution in Oaxaca, known for its innovative programming and commitment to promoting the arts and culture of the region.

For locals and visitors alike, the cultural center is a hub of activity, with events and exhibitions that showcase the diversity and richness of Oaxacan culture. Film, concerts, conferences, presentations and classes, from traditional dance to pottery — there’s always something going on at the center. 

Sculptures of musicians lined one wall of the courtyard.

While we were exploring, we wandered through an art exhibit on the first floor, then watched the staff set up for a musical performance by a female harpist. 

A harpist preps for her concert.

We also passed a table near the entrance displaying a variety of native handicrafts. I assumed it was educational, but Duke somehow deduced the objects were actually for sale. We both gravitated towards a small tureen in the shape of an armadillo (because obviously). And for 510 pesos (about $26 at the time), the price was right. The wares were a selection of items from the nearby shop Andares del Arte Popular. 

A friendly young woman explained that we’d have to pay at the store across the street, but we should explore the center, and she’d walk us over when we were done. 

The Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova is open to the public. Its mission is to preserve the indigenous cultures of Oaxaca.

Preserving Mesoamerican Heritage at the Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova

The stunning glass wall is part of a small research library that’s open to the public. The Biblioteca de Investigación Juan de Córdova has a cool mission: It’s dedicated to preserving and sharing the rich cultural heritage of the state of Oaxaca. They conduct research on Mesoamerican cultures, organize events to share it with others, and work to preserve and digitize their collections.

A side passage is visually arresting — though we have no idea of its purpose.

Mi Casa de la Cultura Oaxaqueña Es Su Casa de la Cultura Oaxaqueña

All in all, Centro Cultural San Pablo has made a profound impact on the cultural landscape of Oaxaca and beyond. Through its innovative programming, commitment to social justice and celebration of the region’s rich traditions, it has become a beacon of creativity and hope, inspiring generations of artists, activists and cultural enthusiasts.

Glass pillars create an interesting vista in one of the upstairs windows.

It’s no wonder the Centro Cultural San Pablo is also known as Casa de la Cultura Oaxaqueña, or House of Oaxacan Culture. This nickname reflects the cultural center’s mission to promote and celebrate the rich traditions and diverse cultures of Oaxaca state. If there’s one thing that becomes abundantly clear when you visit this region, it’s that Oaxacans are fiercely proud of their heritage and take great pains to preserve it. It’s what makes this such an incredible place to visit. –Wally

The interesting alleyway drew us in immediately — only later did we discover the cultural center.

Centro Cultural San Pablo

Miguel Hidalgo 907
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico

Hours: 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. (Monday through Saturday)
10 a.m. to 6 p.m. (Sunday)

Fábrica la Aurora: Textile Factory Turned Art and Design Center

A popular stop in San Miguel de Allende, the Fábrica la Aurora spins a new yarn as a complex filled with antique shops, galleries, artist studios and restaurants. 

La Fábrica la Aurora, an old textile factory, is a winding complex filled with art of all sorts.

San Miguel de Allende is a town with art in its DNA. There are galleries galore and shops full of colorful folk art. But we knew that one of the places we had to add to our itinerary was the Fábrica la Aurora. It just sounded so interesting: It’s a former textile mill that has been converted into a vibrant arts center. A remnant of Mexico’s industrial era, the factory was built at the turn of the 20th century and featured the best technology of the time. The complex operated for nearly 90 years producing percale (a fabric often used for bedsheets), muslin and flannel, before closing for good in 1991 — that is, until it was reimagined as an arts center in 2004.

We took one look at the mask wall at the front of Casa Michoacana and knew we had to go in.

Walk This Way: Shopping Stops on the Way to Fábrica la Aurora 

Whenever we can, we walk on foot in the cities we stay, and I’m especially glad we did so in SMA — otherwise we might have missed Casa Michoacana, an incredible shop filled with folk art that we passed on the way to the Fábrica. Many of the items here are made by artists from the state of Michoacán but also include a few from other regions of the country, too. You will find a collection of ceramic piñas of all sizes, multi-tiered candelabras, innumerable masks, wood carvings and more. The staff was patient and informative, and it was here that we found a variety of changos, black clay vessels used for storing mezcal in the shape of a monkey, and purchased one.

The owners also run the sister shop with the same name, a bit farther down, on the opposite side of the street. Look for the sign with two hands and an archway decorated with handpainted flowers.

“The renovation retains the building’s industrial character, with open spaces, concrete floors, high ceilings, steel casement windows, exposed pipes and more than a few industrial artifacts, including massive mechanical looms.”

We wanted to get this alebrije — but there’s only so much space in our home.

We did, though, find room to bring back a chango mezcalero!

As we walked along Calzada de la Aurora and crossed a puente (bridge), we paused to admire a carved Colonial-era Cantera stone cross. The crucifix features an INRI plaque at the top and so-called Arma Christi (Weapons of Christ), including glyphs of Christ’s face, a nail and a ladder — items linked with Christ’s crucifixion. 

If you walk to La Aurora, you’ll cross a bridge with this cross. It depicts the Arma Christi, the collection of artifacts related to the Passion of Christ.

Here’s your sign (literally) that you’ve arrived at La Fábrica la Aurora.

Art Park in front of La Fábrica la Aurora

Just a few minutes later, we passed an oxidized Cubist sculpture of four converging figures and a sign marking the entrance to Fábrica la Aurora. The park-like grounds contain additional sculptures, including Oso Grizzly by Francisco Esnayra, a striking work of art composed of a series of metal bands in the shape of a bear. It majestically stands in place on a patch of mulch amongst the trees, while the sculpture Looking for Balance by Rodrigo de la Sierra features a trio of his childlike Timoteo characters precariously balancing on an unsupported ladder. 

Oso Grizzly by Francisco Esnayra

Looking for Balance by Rodrigo de la Sierra

La Aurora’s historic façade includes its central archway with metal lettering and wrought iron gate.

The Dawn of a New Fold as an Art Makers Outpost

Most of the original structure of La Fábrica remains intact. Its brick façade is punctuated by Cantera stone arches, made from quarried volcanic rock. Its central entrance has a wrought iron gate and metal lettering spelling out “La Aurora” above. The arts and design center was founded by a quintet of creative forces: Francisco Garay, Christopher Fallon, Mary Rapp, Merry Calderoni and DeWayne Youts. In addition to showcasing local and expat artists’ works, there are also places to eat. A burger joint named El Grandpa & Son occupies one side of the front and can be seen through the aforementioned arches. There’s also a café called Geek & Coffee tucked away somewhere. We didn’t happen to stumble upon it during our visit — the complex is quite large and meandering. 

The front courtyard before you enter the sizable complex filled with galleries and studios.

The renovation retains the building’s industrial character, with open spaces, concrete floors, high ceilings, steel casement windows, exposed pipes and more than a few industrial artifacts, including massive mechanical looms that were used for the production of cloth from cotton. 

An industrial Zinser loom tucked among one of the galleries at La Fábrica la Aurora

Wandering the Maze of Fábrica la Aurora

The first shop we stopped into was Cantadora Antigüedades, which specializes in arte popular and ephemera from the 16th to 19th centuries. A figure depicting Jesus riding a donkey, possibly used during Easter week processions, stands outside the store entrance. 

By this time, Wally and I were both craving a snack, and the relaxed and casual open-air Café de la Aurora was the perfect spot. I tried a mango smoothie that incorporated a large dose of ruby red chamoy sauce, which was refreshing. If I had to describe the flavor, I would say that it was simultaneously sweet, spicy and tangy — the chile on the glass rim was a nice touch. What’s chamoy, you ask? The popular condiment is a combination of dried chiles, mangoes, apricots or plums and lime juice that’s added to flavor hard candy as well as drizzled on fruit. 

Just beyond the café, were the cutest vistas of potted plants arranged along the old factory wall.

Lotería imagery decorates this wall at La Fábrica la Aurora.

Can you see why Wally was obsessed with these vignettes?

One shop in the Fábrica, La Buhardilla, purchased a trove of items in 2004, including letters, sketches, paintings and clothing from an eccentric lawyer in Mexico City that were alleged to have once belonged to the surrealist Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. 

These artifacts are well-documented in the fascinating book Finding Frida Kahlo. The personal effects were said to have been originally acquired from Abraham Jiménez Lopez, a woodcarver who received them in lieu of payment for frames he had made for Kahlo. While many experts question their authenticity and say that the objects are fake, I’d like to believe that at least some of them are real. 

This kitty seemed to share our taste in art.

A modern-feeling wing of art galleries toward the back of La Fábrica

After resting and refueling, we ventured into another annex, where we saw a small black and white cat slinking through one of the galleries. We wandered into Manuk Galeria, which was founded by Mexican artist Lourdes Rivera. I suspect we were drawn to this gallery in particular because of its well-curated assortment of contemporary and folk art-inspired pieces.

Artwork on display at Manuk Galeria at the back portion of La Fábrica

While there, the compelling work titled Neblina (Fog), by self-taught artist Erik García Gómez, caught my eye. The painting features a stylized animal (pig? dog?) and spotted albino snakes. According to the artist’s bio, his main source of inspiration comes from the town he grew up in, San Cristóbal de las Casas, and memories of his grandmother, who was a village healer. 

Neblina by Erik García Gómez

A menagerie of heads from a sculpture workshop led by Juan Luis Potosí

The whimsical Travesías sin Rumba by Ernesto de la Peña Folch sits atop a pedestal outside CSEIS gallery. 

Italian for “the Spice,” Le Spezie lives up to its name — the spice of life, that is. This design shop features a mix of handicrafts from Mexico and other regions of the world. Colorful metal roosters, distressed painted furniture, sofas and accent cushions upholstered in colorful fabrics are all for sale here. Also of note is a range of industrial and hammered copper lighting fixtures. I especially liked the painted wood Kamadhenu, the wish-fulfilling Hindu cow goddess, sitting atop one of the cabinets. 

What’s not to love? The Kamadhenu is part woman, part cow, with the wings of an eagle and the tail of a peacock.

The last space Wally and I walked through was Rise, a store featuring the works of Argentine graphic designer Lucas Rise and a clothing line created by his wife and business partner, Giuliana Vastarella. Rendered in jewel-tone hues, his works have been digitally printed onto textiles, with a few resembling kaleidoscopic Rorschach tests. Rise works in a nontraditional manner by using cabinets as his canvas, combining geometric forms, each meticulously painted by hand. 

A steampunk-looking apparatus with oversized gears, a remnant of the textile factory, shares a space with Rise. 

Over the years, La Fábrica has expanded its galleries and studios as places where both national and international artists can create and sell their work. It’s a short distance from the historic center of San Miguel de Allende, and if you’re like the two of us, you can easily spend a fun afternoon going from one gallery to the next. –Duke

A statue of a rearing horse stands in the parking lot of the arts center.

Fábrica la Aurora

Calzada de la Aurora s/n
San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato
Mexico 

Magical Mystery Tour of the Chapel of Jimmy Ray

A glimpse into the glittering and colorful legacy of the self-taught expat artist Anado McLauchlin at his house outside of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. 

There’s no denying that a visit to the Chapel of Jimmy Ray will be a unique experience.

When planning a trip, Wally and I seek out quirky sites that are in close proximity to where we’re visiting. That’s how I first came across the Chapel of Jimmy Ray on Atlas Obscura — followed by an intensive image search on Instagram. I shared the fantastical artwork with Wally but was getting worried our itinerary was filling up. He said we’d make the time. 

And, really, how could we pass up such a weird and wonderful attraction during our stay in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico?!

Don’t go expecting to see a chapel, FYI. It’s actually a 2.5-acre complex literally filled with the unusual art of the late Anado McLauchlin. 

The Casa de las Ranas might be too crazy for other people, but Wally and Duke would be more than happy to call it their home.

Since it isn’t exactly easy to find, we hired a driver to take us there. The mosaic wonderland is located at the end of an unpaved dead-end road in La Cieneguita, a small town about 30 minutes from San Miguel de Allende. Our hotel arranged the ride, but when the driver doubled the price on us, we sent him packing — a move we’d later come to regret. 

Upon our arrival, Wally and I were welcomed by trusted artistic assistant Carlos Ramírez Galvan. We met up with another couple and were greeted by a tall bespeckled man with an impressive long white beard, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat. This was Anado’s husband, Richard Schultz, and not unlike a mystical shaman, he was adorned with baubles and charms. Wally thought he looked like the poet Walt Whitman.

Richard leads the tour, which starts at the memorial for his late hubby.

Life’s Rich Tapestry: Anado’s Memorial

We were about 10 minutes late and the tour had already started, so be sure to get there a bit early. 

It started off at Anado’s memorial, which includes a 50-year-old olive tree that he and Richard purchased and planted when Anado was diagnosed with colon cancer. The design and theme was originally proposed for the chapel at the Puerto Vallarta Botanical Garden. However, the garden didn’t have enough money to fund it, Richard told us. 

So, Anado decided to use it as his memorial. The assemblage depicts two Trees of Life and portraits of Anado and Richard in profile. Between them is a blue glass heart and above them are a pair of colibríes (hummingbirds), which are considered sacred to many Mesoamerican cultures. 

A lovely mosaic of the lovebirds

Many of the small pieces of tile used in the construction of the mural come from Dolores Hidalgo. The nearby village is known for the production of brightly colored tin-enameled Talavera tiles — and for Father Miguel Hidalgo, who, on September 16, 1810, rang the church bells from his parish and set the Mexican Independence movement in motion. 

Additional tiles were sourced from Cuernavaca, Morelos. These arrive in ¾-inch squares and need to be cut by hand using a tile nipper, which allows the artists to break off small pieces of the material in a controlled fashion.

To the right of the memorial is a likeness of the Aztec god Xochipilli, (pronounced So-chee-pee-lee). Xochipilli was a benevolent god, a gender-fluid combination of both male and female traits. His name contains the Nahuatl words meaning Flower Prince. He was the god of art — as well as male sex workers. 

Richard pointed out how other indigenous societies like the Lakota Sioux have third-sex individuals who identify as two-spirit and hold sacred roles as teachers, healers and keepers of traditional knowledge among their tribes. Even the Zapotec muxes (mu-shay), who are born male at birth but assume matriarchal roles and female dress, are celebrated in parts of Mexico. 

“Usually, they get stomped out any time religion’s involved, whether it’s Evangelical, Catholic or Muslim,” Richard said. “Being two-spirit doesn’t mean they’re gay, or trans — they’re simply two spirits in one person.”

Anado referred to this as the Arch to Nowhere because at the time there was nothing built beyond it. Now it leads to the gallery (and outhouse).

Anado’s fascination with world religions, especially those honoring the pre-Columbian pantheon, can be found throughout the grounds. There’s a small colorful shrine embellished with pieces of mirror and tile that pays homage to the Virgin of Guadalupe, the venerated patroness of Mexico.

Anado and Richard met the old-fashioned way: in an AOL chat room.

Picking Up the Pieces: Anado’s Fractured Life

Central to the complex is the namesake Jimmy Ray, a mosaic rendering Anado created in honor of his father, with whom he had a troubled relationship. Anado’s given name at birth was James Rayburn McLaughlin III, and his father was James Rayburn McLaughlin Jr. Anado’s father was a doctor and a scoundrel who always had a mistress. He had two sons outside his marriage and died in a plane crash returning from the Caribbean with one of his mistresses. 

“Anado’s mother learned of her husband’s death while watching the local news on TV,” Richard told us. “In life, there was always anger towards his father because the whole family knew what was going on.”

This mosaic is of Anado’s philandering father, the Jimmy Ray the chapel is named for.

One of the reasons Anado named his compound the Chapel of Jimmy Ray (his father’s nickname), was partly as a healing process, to recognize and forgive his dad for being a flawed human being, and to stop internalizing everything his father had done.

Anado was born in Oklahoma City on May 24, 1947. At the age of 20, he was drafted into the Navy during the Vietnam War. As fate would have it, he was stationed in San Francisco. A self-proclaimed product of the Summer of Love, he visited the bohemian Haight-Ashbury neighborhood every chance he could to participate in the crosscurrents of creative expression and social tolerance among the hippies. 

Once Anado got out of the Navy, he returned to Oklahoma City and opened the only head shop in town and was arrested for selling Zap Comix, which local authorities considered to be part of the counterculture movement.

Shortly thereafter, Anado enrolled at the School of Visual Arts in Norman, Oklahoma, where he intended to pursue a career in art. However, he was frustrated by his professors, who told him that his works were “too decorative.”

Screw you, School of Visual Arts in Oklahoma! We think Anado’s work, like this take on a Catrina, is pretty rad.

He left Oklahoma and moved to New York City, where he lived for about 10 years and became a performance artist. Anado made most of his money driving a taxi and was part of the Chelsea Hotel crowd, performing with the likes of Patti Smith and Lou Reed. 

Before meeting Richard, Anado was part of the Rajneeshpuram, the sex-forward cult featured in the documentary Wild, Wild Country.

By the late ’70s, friends were committing suicide and overdosing on drugs. So Anado made the decision to travel to India and join the ashram led by the sex guru Osho Rajneesh. He was rechristened Anand Anado, which means “Blissful Silence” in Sanskrit. Rajneesh relocated to the U.S., founding a controversial community in Oregon, and Anado followed him there.

If you’ve heard about Rajneesh, it’s probably because of the 2018 Netflix documentary Wild, Wild Country. When we asked about this, Richard said Anado wouldn’t watch it because he didn’t share the views of the people who were interviewed from the commune (or, as many would call it, cult). “He felt that they didn’t represent what the everyday person was doing there and that they were part of the problem,” Richard explained.

Anado left the commune and relocated to California. In 1998, he met Richard in an AOL chat room. Richard was a former art history teacher residing in Noe Valley, a neighborhood in San Francisco, and Anado was living in Lagunitas. Suffice to say, sparks flew and Richard eventually became Anado’s husband and muse.

Richard and Anado moved to Mexico and built their colorful home together. Sadly, Anado died of colon cancer in 2021.

A couple of years later, Anado and Richard visited San Miguel for a few days. They returned in 2001 to look for a place to retire and saw a listing in the local newspaper. The property was in poor condition and had been on the market for a while. The price was right: “You have to pay cash when you buy property in Mexico,” Richard explained, “and it was within our budget.”

Anado died of colon cancer in 2021.

The Gallery at the Chapel of Jimmy Ray is itself a work of art.

Memory Box: the Chapel of Jimmy Ray Gallery

Our group followed Richard down a curved staircase flanked with mosaic-covered snakes.

The metaphorical focal point of the property is the Chapel of Jimmy Ray Gallery, a space that showcases an eclectic mix of Anado’s work as well as rotating exhibitions by guest artists who are friends of Anado and Richard. Its exterior features a subversive fountain with an anatomically correct luchador who perpetually “pees” into its basin. 

This fountain outside the gallery is fed by water coming out of the luchador’s bright red penis.

Standing outside of the gallery is quite possibly the most beautiful outhouse ever built. It’s a rounded and thoroughly embellished structure with glass bottles embedded into its terracotta-hued mortar walls, multicolored snake door handles, shiny glass spheres and an Indian chief finial. Anado cheekily referred to it as the Caca Mahal (a play of the Taj Mahal with the Spanish word for poop). It’s a waterless toilet that uses evaporation and decomposition to compost human waste. 

What a throne room! This could very well be the coolest outhouse ever.

We caught the tail end of a show that featured the works of three female artists: Meryl Truett, Ann Chamberlin and Leigh Hyams. We ended up purchasing a piece by Chamberlin of a group of dazed-looking men hiding out in trees called Men in the Fresh Air. Her expressive works are inspired by traditional hand-painted devotional images known as retablos. 

We especially loved the work of Ann Chamberlin, including We Are Angry 2022, featuring multiple women with blunt bob haircuts, wearing sleeveless canary yellow dresses — and all wielding machetes!

A cool side room has a shrine of sorts to Anado

One of Anado’s works is a monumental skull covered in mosaic tiles and cobalt blue bottles titled Time Is Not the Enemy — note the clocks placed in the eye sockets.

On either side of the gallery space are a pair of Día de los Muertos sculptures, a giant bejeweled calaca (skull) and a take on a Catrina. 

A secondary outbuilding, named Casa Kali, showcases some of Anado’s early works, as well as those of his assistant, Carlos.

Destiny Calling: Casa Kali and Coltrane

The first outbuilding Anado and Richard added to the grounds was dubbed Casa Kali and was built as an office. It now holds many of Anado’s early sculptural creations as well as those of his assistant Carlos. 

A gnarled creation by Carlos was one of our favorites and was adorned with a multicolored headscarf and cowrie shell necklaces and held a menacingly large scythe.

This giant, grumpy-looking wood sculpture was made by Carlos’ kids. They named him Coltrane.

As we wandered toward the main house, we passed a monumental effigy head nicknamed Coltrane. It was made from twigs and branches by Carlos’ kids one summer. Wally asked if he was constantly being added to, and without missing a beat, Richard replied, “Or being put back together.”  

One section honors the couple’s kitties who have gone on the Great Litterbox in the Sky. Another mosaic honors their dead doggies.

Good Fortune: Tarot and Other Murals of Kismet Street

An outer wall is covered by an elaborate large-scale mosaic installation called Kismet Street. The name came from a vivid dream Anado had while living in the East Village in the ’70s and features a series of vignettes that took years to complete. 

The politically charged Big Hands features two outward-facing palms. The left hand with blue eye and brick wall represents the United States, while the right-facing green hand with brown eye represents Mexico. The inspiration for the piece was a quote attributed to the Mexican President Porfifro Díaz: “So far from God, so close to the U.S.”

One half of Big Hands, with skulls and a nod to a brick wall to symbolize the United States.

We stopped to smile over yet another unusual aspect of the wall. “We were given a Tyrannosaurus Rex head,” Richard said. “Anado combined it with a platter and turned it into Quetzalcoatl, the plumed serpent.” 

Only Anado could take a T. rex head and platter and turn it into the snake god Quetzalcoatl.

A recurring theme that can be seen throughout the estate in Anado’s art is snakes. Richard explained that snakes are sacred animals to many indigenous cultures around the world, from Asia and the Americas. They’re close to the earth and are often associated with wisdom, healing and knowledge. The Judeo-Christian tradition, of course, had to demonize them (think of the serpent in the Garden of Eden).

Xoloitzcuintli dogs are said to shepherd the souls of the dead, which could explain why Anado chose one for the mural honoring his deceased friend David Wojnarowicz.

Another mural on Kismet Street is of a hairless Xoloitzcuintli dog, and was made by Anado in memory of his former roommate, David Wojnarowicz. David was an activist and mixed-media artist in New York, who died from AIDS-related complications in 1992. Early in his career, he was part of the street art culture and created Mayan dog graffiti around the East Village where he lived. In Mesoamerican religious lore, the Xoloitzcuintli leads the soul through the underworld to its final resting spot.

Other murals were inspired by tarot cards, which Anado read. The Emperor and the Empress have no clothes and were made, in part, from cut beer and wine bottles. The Emperor has a beer bottle penis, which has broken off more than a few times by the couple’s dogs’ excitedly wagging tails. 

A section of the wall features mosaics inspired by the tarot. This one is the Empress, a card depicting maternal influence.

The Lovers features a trio of entangled snakes, which represent the invisible holy energy yogis believe resides at the base of our spines. In tarot, the card depicts the choices we make in life and love, and the consequences of such choices. 

Snakes are a recurring theme in Anado’s mosaics, including this one, inspired by the Lovers card in the tarot deck.

The Hanged Man depicts a young Anado hanging around in New York City in the ’70s. 

“Respectame,” says Anado’s mother in the last mosaic on Kismet Street — a healing work of art that was his favorite of the bunch.

The Fool honors Anado’s beloved mother. She’s looking down at her husband and saying, “Respectame” (Respect me). It was Anado’s favorite piece, Richard told us. He liked the idea of his mom standing up, as she never did during her life. In tarot, this card starts the deck and represents the beginning of a journey.

Two pet memorial walls (one for cats and the other for dogs) are dedicated to Anado and Richard’s beloved companions over the years. They were designed by Anado and completed over a period of two years by Mosaics in Mexico, a mosaic mural-making workshop led by artists Julie Richey and Ana Foncerrada. 

The second part of the tour offers a glimpse inside Anado and Richard’s home.

Casa de las Ranas: Anado and Richard’s Fairy Tale Home

Our tour ended at Casa de las Ranas (Frog House). While renovating their home, which was in a ruined state when he and Richard purchased it, Anado referred to it as a tadpole that they transformed into a handsome prince, earning the residence its name. I found it especially fitting, as the well-known Mexican muralist Diego Rivera aka el Sapo-Rana (Toad-Frog) was born in the nearby capital city of Guanajuato. 

The dining room at la Casa de las Ranas

The house itself isn’t that big — but there sure is a lot going on inside!

The Rosewood gang couldn’t resist getting a photo taken in the kooky casa.

The kitchen at Richard and Anado’s home

Like the rest of the compound, the mosaic images covering the walls were created from pieces of mirror, tile, ceramics, and salvaged and recycled materials. Everywhere we looked there was something fantastic to be discovered. 

The workshop offers a glimpse into the method of Anado’s madness.

Anado had plenty of materials to work with — everywhere you look there are quirky items.

Various artistic inspirations, including Trump’s micropenis

Religious iconography in Anado’s garage workshop

The tour ends in the garage workshop, filled with containers of paint, folk art, necklaces, and odds and ends. Wally bought a bracelet of mismatched beads to remember our time here. 

The Chapel of Jimmy Ray is a journey to an artsy, whimsical world. You’ll feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland.

Final Tips for Visiting the Chapel of Jimmy Ray

1. Make an appointment — through your hotel.

Because the Chapel of Jimmy Ray is Richard’s home and a museum of sorts showcasing Anado’s work, visits are by appointment only. We had emailed Richard weeks before to make a reservation but never heard back. Luckily, the concierge at our hotel in San Miguel was able to connect with him and secure us a spot.

Maybe the trick is to get Richard on the phone. Try giving him a call at +52-415-155-8044.

2. Arrange transportation so you don’t get stranded.

As mentioned, we were upset with being overcharged for our ride out there, and made the mistake of dismissing our driver after he dropped us off. As a result, we found ourselves stranded after the tour. When we tried to connect with a taxi service or Uber, the wifi and cell service was too spotty. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Richard took pity on us and asked Carlos to take us to our destination, the natural hot springs of La Gruta. 

The best option might be to have a driver stay there, so you’re ready to head back after the tour.

3. Be sure to get there on time, if not early.

Our driver showed up late, and by the time we got into the Chapel of Jimmy Ray complex, it was 10 minutes past the appointed time, and Richard had started the tour. As such, we missed some of the background about Anado and the property.

4. After the tour, visit La Gruta Spa and the Sanctuary of Atotonilco.

While you’re in the area, stop by La Gruta, where you can soak in hot springs grottos with locals. And then head down the street to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco, a UNESCO World Heritage Site known for its amazing murals from the 1700s. –Duke

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Chapel of Jimmy Ray and la Casa de las Ranas

Temazcal 3
37893 La Cieneguita
Guanajuato
Mexico

Daufuskie Island History and Artisan Tour

Hop in a golf cart and see the real-life Yamacraw Island, South Carolina, including the school where author Pat Conroy taught and the history museum, with stops at Daufuskie Soap Company and the Iron Fish. And stop by the Old Daufuskie Crab Company before catching the Daufuskie Island Ferry back to the mainland.

Daufuskie doesn’t have a bridge to the mainland, so your only option to visit is by boat.

For years, Wally and I have wanted to visit Daufuskie. The remote southernmost Sea Island is tucked away between Hilton Head, South Carolina and Savannah, Georgia. 

What was the appeal? The small island retains the rich history of the Gullah-Geechee people, descendants of West and Central African slaves brought to the region and forced to work on Lowcountry plantations. It also boasts a small but thriving makers community — but I’ll get to that later.  

There’s no bridge connecting Daufuskie to the mainland, and the only way to reach it is by ferry or water taxi. Last year, rain prevented us from going, and before that it was closed to tourism due to the coronavirus pandemic. 

A day trip to Daufuskie is a good excuse to get out on the water. The Daufuskie Island Ferry leaves from this dock by a distinctive failed restaurant just over the bridge from Hilton Head.

This December we booked a guided History and Artisans Tour with local operator Tour Daufuskie and took the 45-minute ferry ride from Buckingham Landing just off of Hilton Head. Roundtrip rides cost $50 per person. 

Gullahs, descendants of slaves, once made up most of the population of Daufuskie. Now few remain. Their cemeteries were by the water so their spirits could travel back to Africa.

What Daufuskie?! 

According to local lore, Daufuskie got its name from the Gullah “Da Fus Cay,” meaning “the first key (or island).” However, we were disappointed to learn that the name actually comes from the island’s first inhabitants, the Muscogee, or Creek, Indians. In their language, daufa means “feather” and fuskie “pointed.” Combine the two, and you have something that translates to “Pointed Feather,” a reference to the island’s distinctive shape. 

Once Wally and I disembarked at Freeport Marina, we met our guide Ryland, who was waiting for us at the end of the boardwalk. We were provided with golf carts and given a quick tutorial on how to use them. There are very few cars on the island. Golf carts and bikes are the preferred modes of transportation.

At the first stop, Ryland told us a bit about the island’s history. Ancient piles of oyster shells, and artifacts such as pottery fragments and arrowheads left by the indigenous Muscogee and Yemasse tribes were discovered by archaeologists on Daufuskie — with some dating as far back as 7000 BCE. 

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This old schoolhouse now serves as the first stop on a tour of the history of Daufuskie — and acts as the community’s library.

An Education at the Jane Hamilton School

Our tour began at the Jane Hamilton School, part of the Billie Burn Museum complex. The one-room schoolhouse was built in the late 1930s using blueprints provided by Julius Rosenwald, head of the Sears, Roebuck and Company mail order empire. Rosenwald was a philanthropist who met renowned educator and prominent African American thought leader Booker T. Washington and recognized the need for educational facilities for disadvantaged Southern Black children. This sparked a transformative collaboration between the pair, and a program emerged to construct modest educational buildings, which later became known as Rosenwald Schools.

Kids used to go to school here until 5th grade, when they’d have to work their family’s farm full time.

The Jane Hamilton School provided education from kindergarten to 5th grade. As this was built at the tail end of the Great Depression, Rosenwald was unable to provide the raw materials required to build the facility. It was financed using money raised by the island community and erected by local craftsmen and workers employed by the government-funded Works Progress Administration (WPA) — with some help from the children themselves. 

The school year started in September and ended in March, Ryland informed us. Most Gullah families could not afford to send their children to the mainland to continue their education. Once they completed 5th grade, they were expected to work on the family farm full time. (This prompted some kids to purposely fail to prolong their education, according to our guide.) Today the former school is home to the Gullah Learning Center and the community library. 

The Daufuskie Island History Museum was once a Baptist church.

An Alligator and Gullah Bible at the Daufuskie Island History Museum

The next stop was Mount Carmel Baptist Church Number 2, so named because the first was destroyed by a hurricane in 1940. It’s now home to the Daufuskie Island History Museum. Among the artifacts on display are a taxidermied 11.5-foot alligator, a 19th century Gullah Bible, Indian arrowheads and a restored 1890s pump organ. The museum also has a nook that sells books about the island’s history. 

Wally poses by Al, the taxidermied alligator on display.

The history museum has a jumble of artifacts, including a charming pump organ and a Bible written in Gullah. Here’s John 3:16: “Cause God lob all de people een de wol sommuch dat e gii we e onliest Son.”

Sarah Hudson Grant’s Buggy: A Labor of Love

Our final stop in the museum complex was a small structure sheltering the one-horse buggy of Sarah Hudson Grant. When women went into labor on Daufuskie, they would ask for Mrs. Grant aka Granny to come. She became a midwife in 1932 and was married to the island’s undertaker. When he died in 1962, she stepped in and took his place. Grant charged $5 to deliver a baby or $10 to deliver a baby and do a week’s worth of laundry after. 

The horse-drawn carriage used by legendary midwife Sarah Hudson Grant was restored by Amish craftsmen (who painted it black, which they felt was much more proper than red).

Over a 37-year period, Grant “grannied” 130 babies on Daufuskie without losing one — and as the undertaker, she was the last to bid farewell to many. The Gullah said, “Granny bring ’em ’n she tek ’em away.”

With no medical instruments or doctors on the island, locals would holler from one property to another to alert her as to who was going into labor and where — at which point, she would hook her horse Tillman up to the carriage and hurry off to deliver the baby.

Ryland told us that electricity didn’t reach the island until the 1950s, with the first telephone following two decades later, in 1973.

Grant retired in 1969. 

Billie Burn Museum Complex
44 Old Haig Point Road 

The local Baptist Church is the oldest original building on Daufuskie and has been restored twice.

You Gotta Have Faith: The First Union African Baptist Church

The First Union African Baptist Church was built in 1884 and is the oldest original building on the island. It has served as a place of worship and faith for over a century and was built on the grounds of the former Mary Fields cotton plantation.

The structure has had two major facelifts. The first was in 1952, when the island received electricity. Fixtures were converted from gas to electric, and the second was in 1982, when the foundation was reinforced, as over time the structure had begun to slowly sink into the ground. Even today you can still notice a tilt to the walls and doors.

To become a member of the parish, you had to go on a spirit quest into the woods to commune with God.

When the parish was first established, it wasn’t a traditional church, where you could simply show up and attend. You would have to go to the church leaders and tell them you were interested in joining the congregation. They would instruct you to find a quiet place in the woods to pray, and while there, you would hopefully receive a message from God. You’d report back, and a spirit guide would be summoned to interpret your vision. If they weren’t convinced, you’d have to try again, because God (and the church) wasn’t quite ready for you. 

Members of the congregation had assigned seating. Men sat on one side and women on the other. The church was the head of the community, in charge of law enforcement, finances and school openings. If you did something that made the community angry, you would be seated in the back, so that everybody knew you were being scorned.

The Praise House on the grounds of the church was a gathering place for slaves, where religious services were held.

Praise You at the Praise House

Tucked to the side of the First Union African Baptist Church stands a simple, weathered wood structure. It’s a reproduction of the original “praise house” that stood there for more than a century. These structures were intentionally built small to prevent large gatherings of slaves, as plantation owners feared that they could easily be overthrown or killed. 

When the house was open, the deacon or worship leader would stand on the top step or in the doorway, and most slaves would gather to sit outside on the grass. Those members of the congregation inside the praise house would rhythmically stomp upon the wooden floors, creating a communal drum of sorts. 

Singing was an important element of the services and hymns were often sung in round, a short musical piece in which multiple voices sing the same melody but start the song at different times. Services also included songs known as call and response, where the leader would sing out a phrase that was answered by the congregation. These buildings might have been called praise houses, but because of the cacaphony heard during services, plantation owners referred to them as shout houses.

First Union African Baptist Church
School Road 

Daufuskie Soap Company started out on a porch like other artisan workshops on the island.

Peachy Clean at Daufuskie Soap Company

Part of the tour was to visit local artisans (those makers I mentioned earlier). One of them is Jan Crosby, who makes soap, lotions and other body care products inspired by the scents of the island. Before we entered the shop, Ryland told us it was originally named Daufuskie Peach — a nod to Crosby’s native roots in Georgia. Like most artisans on the island, she started out by creating a workshop on her porch. Tired of people expecting a fruit stand, Crosby has since changed the name. We purchased a bar of sandalwood soap. 

Daufuskie Soap Company
228 School Road

Stop by Daufuskie Blues to see some amazing patterns — and ask for a demonstration.

Indigo Immersion at the Mary Fields School 

A short golf cart ride from the church is the Mary Fields School, where local celebrity Pat Conroy taught schoolchildren in 1969. The historic schoolhouse was built in 1933 and now contains Daufuskie Blues, a shop selling indigo-dyed clothing. 

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For 20 years, the school had no cafeteria or lunchroom. Eventually one was built in the back, and it’s now School Grounds Coffee. We greatly appreciated the chance to get a caffeine fix on an island that doesn’t offer much in terms of places to eat.

The two-room schoolhouse where Pat Conroy once taught is now an indigo shop, art studio and coffeeshop.

Kindergarten through 3rd grade were taught by Mrs. Brown in one room, and 4th through 8th grade by Frances Jones in the other. When Jones retired in 1969, she was replaced for one year by the late novelist Conroy. Fresh out of grad school, he wanted to come to Daufuskie to teach, inspire and motivate students. But his methods were unconventional — and controversial. He would regularly take students over to the mainland to places like Bluffton, Savannah and even Washington, D.C. At the end of his first year teaching, Conroy was fired. He went on to write an autobiographical book about his time at the Mary Fields School called The Water Is Wide, adapted into a movie starring Jon Voight named Conrack, which is how the Gullah children pronounced Conroy’s name. 

Conroy never returned to teaching, but he did keep in contact with his students and continued to write. Ryland added that even though Conroy was forced out of the school, he made out all right, going on to have a successful literary career, penning bestselling books like The Great Santini and The Prince of Tides.

Daufuskie Indigo
School Grounds Coffee
203 School Road

Chase Allen’s artwork has gotten quite popular and won an American Made award from Martha Stewart Living.

Reeling in Art at the Iron Fish

Our final stop was the Iron Fish, where a whimsical menagerie of fish, mermaids, stingrays and other coastal creatures fashioned from distressed sheet metal are displayed in the open-air gallery owned by artist Chase Allen. 

Allen has an outdoor workshop on the island.

Payment is on the honor system.

Allen asks patrons to pay by the “honor system”: Leave a check in the box on his front porch or make a mobile payment through Zelle. 

The Iron Fish 
168 Benjies Point Road 

The Old Daufuskie Crab Company has a great outdoor space — but it was too cold to enjoy when we visited in December. It’s one of only a couple of restaurants that stay open all year.

Lunch Stop at Old Daufuskie Crab Company

Our two-hour tour wrapped at 1 p.m., so Wally and I wanted to grab some lunch before catching the 2:30 ferry back to the mainland. We decided it’d be best to get back by the harbor, so we stopped into the Old Daufuskie Crab Company. We ordered beers and a basket of spicy shrimp — but passed on the “scrap iron,” an Arnold Palmer-esque cocktail made with moonshine. 

Old Daufuskie Crab Company
256 Cooper River Landing Road

Ryland, with Tour Daufuskie, was a storehouse of interesting local knowledge. The poor guy is only one of a few people his age on the island.

A visit to Daufuskie is a great day trip if you’re in the Hilton Head or Bluffton area. You get to be on the water, tool around in golf carts and learn some fascinating Gullah history. And you couldn’t hope for a better guide than Ryland. We enjoyed spending time with him and were impressed with his knowledge of the island. While the weather was a bit cold on our visit in December, we were happy to finally have made it to Daufuskie. We’ll be back. –Duke

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RELATED: Gullah History of Hilton Head

The Marvelous Murals of the Sanctuary of Atotonilco

No surprise that this UNESCO site has been dubbed the “Sistine Chapel of Mexico.” Pair it with La Gruta hot springs for an easy day trip from San Miguel de Allende. 

Most of the murals at Atotonilco depict scenes from Jesus’ life, including his resurrection (top) and the Last Supper (just below).

We knew we wanted to pair our trip to La Gruta Spa with a visit to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco (a tough one to pronounce, but try, “Ah-toe-toe-neel-ko”). 

The trouble was, we didn’t know how we would get there. To get to La Gruta, we had to bum a ride from someone who works at our first stop of the day, the quirky Chapel of Jimmy Ray, because we couldn’t get any cell service to call a cab or Uber.

Most of the murals at Atotonilco show scenes from the life of Christ, including the resurrection. The style is known as Mexican Folk Baroque.

I looked on Google Maps and determined that the church was only a 15-minute walk away. And once we got past the somewhat busy road that runs in front of the hot springs complex along a highway, we were able to walk on a peaceful cobblestone sidewalk. In fact, we started to see signs indicating that this is a pilgrimage route. So we followed them along a quiet road, Calle Principal, through a canopy of trees, and into a small village, where the church of Atotonilco can be found amid a few businesses and market stalls. 

Almost every inch of the walls and ceilings are covered in murals that date back to the mid-1700s.

“Pilgrims complete their journeys on their knees, wear hair shirts, tie cacti to their chests and wear crowns of thorns.

Atotonilco has also become a hotspot for flagellants — religious devotees who whip themselves to mimic the pain Jesus experienced en route to his crucifixion.”

The façade isn’t much — the wonders lie within.

A statue of Don Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a Catholic priest who, while waving a banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe taken from the Sanctuary of Atotonilco, delivered an impassioned speech for the people to break the yoke of Spanish oppression — and launched the Mexican War of Independence

From the — dare I say — bland exterior, you’d never guess at the gorgeous artwork inside. The façade consists of white walls devoid of decorations, aside from a window here and there. The wall around the church makes it feel like it’s more of a fortress than a sanctuary.

The main church was closed off when we visited — and we were surprised to see that it had plastic chairs instead of pews.

When we went, there was a crowd of tourists, mostly from Mexico, all pressing into the small space. For some reason, the church itself was roped off, with pink and purple plastic chairs in lieu of pews, and the altar visible in the distance. 

The frescoes were painted over three decades by a local artist, Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre.

There are supposedly quite a few chapels and niches inside the structure, but we were only able to go into the Capilla del Santo Sepulcro, or the Chapel of the Holy Burial — for a small fee. A couple of dioramas depict Jesus’ death on the cross. But it’s the intricate, gorgeous paintings, created by a local artist, Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre, that prompted UNESCO to declare this a World Heritage Site in 2008.

John the Baptist baptizes his cousin Jesus in the Jordan River in this mural at Atotonilco.

Judas, shown with a demon straddling his back, betrays Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, while a dog barks at him.

Most of the murals at Atotonilco show the life of Christ — though at least one is from the Old Testament of the Burning Bush talking to Moses.

The frescoes cover the main events of Christ’s life — his baptism by John the Baptist, the Last Supper, Judas’ betrayal, the walk to his crucifixion, his resurrection outside his tomb — though I did spot at least one Old Testament story as well: Moses and the Burning Bush. And there are words everywhere — even long passages of text. The walls are a Bible come to life. 

A holy water font surrounded by de Pocasangre’s murals

An indigenous ruler represents the Americas near the entrance of the church.

The walls of the sanctuary are like a book come to life — there are entire paragraphs in Spanish throughout.

The color palette is minimal — mostly salmon and tan, with some blue, brown, gold and bits of green acting as leaves on the curlicue motif, all set against the white walls of the church. 

A local priest, Father Neri, had a dream where Jesus told him to build a church. Neri did so, founding el Santuario de Atotonilco.

A Dream Come True

Atotonilco means Place of the Hot Waters in the local indigenous tongue. Father Luis Felipe Neri de Alaro had been preaching in the nearby town of Dolores but had fallen ill and decided to check out the curative powers of the thermal springs. 

While dozing under a mesquite tree one day, Father Neri had a dream in which Jesus wore the crown of thorns and carried the cross. Christ said that he wanted the spot where the priest was napping to become a center of penitence and prayer. Neri awoke, filled with divine inspiration, and did just that, founding el Santuario de Atotonilco in 1740. Another possible factor in determining to build the church here: The site was used in fornication rites among the indigenous peoples of the area, and Neri wanted to stop this practice.

Construction continued over the next 36 years. Neri commissioned de Pocasangre to paint the now-famous murals. The artist’s style is known as Mexican Folk Baroque — a blending of local traditions and the ornate flourishes of Flemish masters. 

The statue of el Señor de la Columna shows Jesus with a bloody back from being whipped. It’s paraded through town in a procession held the week before Easter.

Hair Shirts, Crowns of Thorns and Flagellation 

Meanwhile, Neri wanted to honor Christ’s wish in the dream he had — namely, that the sanctuary not just be a place of prayer but one of penitence as well. And Neri’s view of this was of a gruesome, physical variety. 

A symbol of flagellants is Christ tied to a column being whipped, as seen at the top of the image.

From the church’s origin, it has been a place of pilgrimage, with several weeks each year devoted to rites of penitence, drawing up to 5,000 pilgrims in a single week and 100,000 a year. The attached building consists of dormitories and dining halls to house the influx of pilgrims. 

Behind the church are dormitories and dining halls for the 100,000 pilgrims who visit each year.

And many of these pilgrims are hardcore. They complete their journeys on their knees, wear hair shirts (garments made of rough, uncomfortable cloth), tie spiked nopal cacti to their chests and wear their own crowns of thorns. Atotonilco has also become a hotspot for flagellants — religious devotees who whip themselves to mimic the pain Jesus experienced en route to his crucifixion. 

It would’ve been interesting, to say the least, to have been in the village during one of the times when the flagellants descended upon it. But, alas, the town was quite sleepy when we visited.

Looking back at the main entrance to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco

In 1994, the frescoes got a refresh — by the same team that worked on restoring the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City.

The sanctuary, with its numerous murals and frescoes, has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Not surprisingly, after 200 years or so, the frescoes had faded. In fact, in 1994, the World Monuments Fund named Atotonilco one of the world’s 100 Most Endangered Monuments, which inspired a major restoration project that same year. The church was in good hands: Some of the team that had worked to restore the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican City helped breathe new life into these frescoes. In addition, the walls were cleaned, the foundations reinforced and a new drainage system installed.

In the Capilla del Santo Sepulcro, or the Chapel of the Holy Burial, there are scenes of Jesus appearing after his resurrection.

Jesus shows off his stigmata to prove that he was crucified and yet rose from the dead.

Duke and I did our best to snap some photos and move through the crowd, though the front of the chapel was a popular spot for family photos among the locals. 

The only area open for tourists when we visited was a side chapel that showed Christ on the cross — a popular spot for family photos.

Another diorama, this one to the right of the main altar, shows Jesus being taken down from the cross.

A statue of Joseph with baby Jesus on his shoulder, while behind him Veronica shows the veil she used to wipe Christ’s face while he was en route to Calvary to be crucified.

After about half an hour, we decided to head back. We lucked out and saw a taxi passing by as we emerged from the sanctuary. We waved it down and caught a ride back to San Miguel de Allende for a reasonable rate. –Wally

Follow the pilgrimage signs to reach the impressive Sanctuary of Atotonilco.

Santuario de Jesús de Nazareno de Atotonilco

Calle Principal s/n
37700 Guanajuato
México

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The Art-Filled Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez El Nigromante

Like many of the most beautiful buildings in Mexico, the Ignacio Ramirez the Necromancer Cultural Center was once a convent. Now this San Miguel de Allende landmark is filled with dramatic murals by David Alfaro Siqueiros, Pedro Martínez and Eleanor Cohen.

The centerpiece of the gorgeous courtyard at the cultural center is a fountain topped with the Christian Lamb of God. Keep in mind that this was once the cloisters of a convent.

Days before her death, Sister María Josefa began to cough up larvae. “The pain was so acute that she fainted,” wrote Miguel J. Malo and F. León de Vivero in the now-out-of-print guidebook San Miguel Allende. Despite her discomfort, she’s said to have kept the larvae — which later transformed into butterflies. 

The nearby Iglesia de la Concepción was once connected to a convent, which gave the church its nickname, Las Monjas (the Nuns).

The beguiling former 18th century Convento de la Concepción was founded in 1736 by María Josefa Lina de la Canal y Hervás, the daughter of the influential de la Canal family. At the age of 15, María Josefa’s parents died, and she inherited a large sum of money, which she used to construct la Iglesia de la Concepción, known locally as Las Monjas (the Nuns), and the adjoining convent. 

A bust of Ramírez sits atop a pedestal in the courtyard. 

“El Nigromante (The Necromancer) was the pseudonym used by Ramírez, a lifelong champion of atheism and freethinking, to conceal his identity in the radical articles he wrote.”

An iron sculpture of a bull by David Kestenbaum stands sentinel in front of the bright yellow façade of the former Convento de la Concepción.

From Convent to Cultural Center 

In 1938, after a series of other uses, the complex was converted into the secular Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes by Peruvian painter and political-activist-in-exile Felipe Cossío del Pomar. It is now known as the Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez “El Nigromante,” in honor of the progressive thinker by that name. El Nigromante (the Necromancer) was the pseudonym Ramírez used to conceal his identity in the radical articles he wrote, which would have surely upset the conservative governing authority of the time. A lifelong champion of atheism and freethinking, Ramírez caused a scandal, for instance, when, in a speech to the literary Academy of San Juan de Letrán, he declared that God didn’t exist. 

A quilt artwork was hanging in the courtyard, with Las Monjas church in the background.

Enjoy the tranquil atmosphere of the Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez.

Various artworks fill the grassy courtyard of the cultural center.

Las Lavanderas (The Washerwomen) by Eleanor Cohen

The Washerwomen Mural

The inner courtyard of the former cloister is surrounded by a succession of contiguous arches. As Wally and I walked beneath them, we discovered a fresco by the American artist and printmaker Eleanor Cohen. The piece is known as Las Lavanderas, (The Washerwomen) and was influenced by the figural style of the famous muralist José Clemente Orozco.  

Cohen and her husband, Max Kahn, were both Works Progress Administration artists paid by the federal government to promote pride and patriotism through public art during the late 1930s. She was the first female recipient of the James Nelson Raymond Traveling Fellowship from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and she used it to study at the Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes in San Miguel de Allende. Kahn taught printmaking there, and Cohen began working on the mural in 1941. Her painting depicts indigenous peasant women washing clothing at a river with a group of children bathing in the foreground. I love that a mural that has a similarly emotive power as the works of Diego Rivera and Orozco was painted by a non-native woman — quite unusual for the time. 

As we entered the room housing Siqueiros’ unfinished work, Wally was startled by the guard sitting against the wall. In his defense, the room is dimly lit. 

Siguiero’s Unfinished Work 

Stirling Dickinson, an American credited with helping establish San Miguel de Allende as an arts center, became the director of the school shortly after his arrival. During his tenure, he invited the celebrated Mexican muralist David Alfaro Siqueiros, an outspoken Mexican Communist Party member, to teach at Bellas Artes in 1948.

His students, who were predominantly U.S. and Canadian war veterans, were enthusiastic about painting a mural under Siquiero’s direction. However, he quickly exceeded his modest art class budget, and abruptly departed after a quarrel with the school’s administrative director, Alfredo Campanella, over funding. 

Duke in the nuns’ former dining hall, now home to an unfinished work by the legendary muralist Siquieros

The impressive unfinished work, Vida y Obra de General Ignacio Allende (Life and Work of General Ignacio Allende), can be found in a room along the north wing, fittingly called the Sala Siquieros. The cavernous space once served as the convent’s dining hall. The intent of the mural was to depict the life of Allende, a leader of Mexico’s War of Independence so well respected that the town, once called San Miguel el Grande became San Miguel de Allende after his death.

A cartoonish detail from Vida y Obra de General Ignacio Allende reveals Siqueiros’ process.

Entering the room and looking up, I noticed a playful almost cartoonish face with elaborate curlicue scrollwork around it. Elsewhere, lines, colors and geometric shapes crisscrossed the walls and vaulted ceiling where painted flames shoot across the ceiling and explode above what looks like an aerial view of farmland. In my opinion the unfinished state of the mural makes it more interesting, as it provides the viewer with a glimpse into the creative process of Siquieros.

Not surprisingly, El Fanatismo del Pueblo by Pedro Martínez, with its giant vampire bat attack, was Duke and Wally’s favorite mural at the cultural center.

Superstition and Drinking Culture in Martínez’s Paintings

Elsewhere within the complex are four works by Pedro Martínez. In 1941 Martínez was invited by Cossío del Pomar to teach the fresco technique to students at Bellas Artes.

His mural El Fanatismo del Pueblo (The Fanaticism of the People) vividly depicts a winged creature attacking a group of women who cower in fear as two caballeros attempt to lasso the flying beast. The fresco is referred to as La Caza del Vampiro (The Vampire Hunt) by locals and is perhaps a criticism of those who naively believe in superstitions. 

Head into the bookstore to see another Martínez mural, La Cantina.

Another of Martínez’s murals can be found in the bookstore. Simply titled La Cantina, the vignette shows a group of men gathered in a tavern drinking pulque. A man in a sombrero leans against the bar, a bemused expression on his face. To his right, a man looks over his shoulder in annoyance. The four men seated in the foreground lean in to listen to a man wearing a pink shirt tied with a bow, who, judging by his body language and snarling mouth, appears to be angry. 

Explore the galleries at the Centro Cultural Ramírez to see the current exhibitions.

The Clamor Progresista Exhibit

When Wally and I visited, there was an exhibit titled Clamor Progresista (Progressive Cry), inspired by the ideas of “the Necromancer,” such as creative freedom and how these ideas are open to interpretation. The project is led by Mexico City-based conceptual artist Abraham Cruzvillegas, who invited more than 60 artists from the state of Guanajuato to create works using multiple formats, from sculpture to paper. 

Part of the Clamor Progresista exhibit

A cool mobile-like sculpture on display when we visited

Today the cultural center belongs to the Mexican National Art Institute (INBA) and offers classes in drawing, painting, sculpture, dance and music. It’s worth stopping by just to admire the beautiful courtyard. And be sure to check out the charming shops across the street, including Origenes Antigüedades Populares. –Duke 

While you’re in the hood, stop into Origenes Antigüedades Populares.

The shop is filled with antiques, many of which are of a religious nature.

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See more amazing murals and read about the Instituto Allende, another art school in San Miguel de Allende.

CLICK HERE

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When you see the bull, you know you’ve come to the right place.

Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez “El Nigromante”

Calle del Dr Hernandez Macías 75
Zona Centro
37700 San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato 
México