Photographer’s Statement
“Nowhere in the world do two countries as different as Mexico and the United States live side by side . . .
nowhere in the world do two neighbors understand each other so little. More than by levels of
development, the two countries are separated by language, religion, race, philosophy and history.”—Alan
Riding, Distant Neighbors1
After graduating from college, I moved to San Diego, joined the Laborers’ Union and began to dig ditches. The men I worked with were Mexicans and the stories of their native country were compelling. I began to backpack into the canyons of the Sierra San Pedro Martir in northern Mexico. I was pretty scared at first. Mexico was a very foreign place—the desert was harsh and the people were unreadable, shaped by history and circumstances I did not understand. But with effort, the mountains became accessible and the people sometimes smiled. I decided to move there. Through playing in the Ensenada municipal basketball league (a ringer from the States I was not), I formed a lifelong friendship with an extraordinary school teacher. I lived with his family and doors opened. My project began; I didn’t know it would last forty-five years.
I entered the enigma that is Mexico with fascination and fear; I still feel that push and pull today, albeit with more calm, humility and connection. I now understand that I love Mexico because it offers possibilities I do not have. With warmth and threat, this country elicits presence and immediacy.
These photographs engage spiritual practice in Mexico. Intensity, violence, devotion, excess, altruism and humor mark the Mexican religious transit. Native pantheistic beliefs survive under hegemonic Catholicism. The present may appear wide-open but is tightly bound to a complicated and divisive history. An ironic dialogue with Death further defines and relieves this condition. Suffering, compassion, and a mythological past are illuminated in the glaring sunlight of the here and now.
The photographs and text arise from friendships, opportunity, cultural and historical readings, and my own spiritual experience and inclination. In my broad approach to the subject, I offer some definitions of mexicanidad, Mexican identity. I recognize that defining a national character is highly provisional and describes qualities in motion. Here are some specific ideas that shape the images.
Mexican spirituality lives in the body—Christ gave his entirely. Physical sacrifice was basic in the major indigenous civilizations as well. Human blood, the raw energy of life, was given to the sun and the gods to secure their support of this world. The gory rituals prepared the Aztecs and Mayans for Spanish Catholicism with its emphasis on the tortures endured by Jesus and the saints. Other similarities also contributed to acceptance. The Catholic sacraments of baptism, communion, and confession corresponded to native religious practices of ceremonial bathing of infants, eating representations of the gods, and private or public admissions of sin. Penance, pilgrimages, and fasts were employed by the faithful of America and Europe. Miraculous conception, ornate religious decoration and animal attributes of god(s) were also shared.2 The arrival of Cortes in was interpreted as the predicted return of the Aztec god, Quetzalcoatl. If all these factors were not enough to facilitate the conversion to Christianity, the threat of death or punishment was very real. Religious change is often not linear or absolute, however, and in this case, might be seen as resulting in a hybrid form. Seen under dark, cloudy skies, the Catholic crowds of Mexicans at Teotihuacan seem ready to return to the legacy of the pyramids.
Christian veneration of Mother Mary also had ancient parallels that allowed for the extension of native religion into Catholicism. The dark-skinned, Indian Virgin of Guadalupe inherited the mantle of the Aztec goddess Tonantzin in 1531 when she appeared on the traditional site of the indigenous Mother Earth. La Virgen later became a symbol of free Mexico during the War of Independence and is still a powerful emblem for national unification. Vulnerability can be openly admitted to the Mother and her consoling presence is everywhere. The dialectic of sacred and profane reaches new extremes in representations that range from tender church statuary to full back tattoos to images of the Virgin applied to urinals, bikinis and pistols.
The defeat of the Mesoamerican gods in the conquest signified the end of a cosmic cycle and encouraged a desperate embrace of the maternal wombs of the feminine deities. Those Indian goddesses were responsible for the fertility of the earth; the Catholic Virgin also aids the farmer but she is primarily concerned with providing refuge and consolation for the unfortunate and the oppressed. "All men are born disinherited and their true condition is orphanhood, but this is particularly true among the Indians and the poor in Mexico. The cult of the Virgin reflects not only the general condition of man but also a concrete historical situation, in both the spiritual and material realms."—Octavio Paz3
The distance between god and man is exemplified by the glass boxes found in most churches that enclose figures of the suffering Jesus. In protecting the statues from the physical touch of the believers, spiritual separation is reinforced. The intermediary function of the Catholic priest made sense to native people who had a comparable, strict religious hierarchy. The growing popularity of Christian fundamentalism today derives, in part, from its attempt to bypass this mediation/division in order to relate directly to god.
Claudio Lomnitz writes "The cult of death could be thought of as the oldest, seminal, and most authentic element of Mexican popular culture."4 This ancient devotion continued under the auspices of the Catholic Church as the exuberant Days of the Dead assumed priority over the traditional All Saints’ and All Souls’ Days. This celebration of the departed of the family brings together the living family. The Church is not pleased with the recent metamorphosis of dark worship to Saint Death, which they see as contrary to Christ's victory over death. La Virgen, too, has given some of her power to Santa Muerte, who also receives all manner of petitions and offerings. Santa Muerte employs Catholic iconography, the sickle of Death and the bridal white gown of purity—she is punitive and redemptive. Death is venerated as ultimate truth, a leveler of societal position, a release from the pain of life and a reminder to appreciate our short lives. The triumph of Death is also seen as the ultimate rebuttal of the domination of American modernism. The open recognition of death enriches life and is fittingly expressed with imagination and humor. Within the heart of Mexico's acceptance of death is the powerful realization that life and death are not opposites but are integral phases of the continuous cycle of existence. Life and death are one.
We can understand when the Indians speak of the human corpse physically feeding the earth; but in a wider sense, they also link the fertility of death to change—change that enables the flow of life. Through their patient development of agriculture, the indigenous peoples had a strong sense of the interconnections between all parts of existence. With this realization came a series of religious rites to ensure our proper relationship to the earth.
As repositories of ancient personifications of death, Mexico’s anthropological museums transcend their academic mission and become religious sites through the pure power of their ritual objects. The public is accessory and subordinate. Several centuries from being sacrificial victims, visitors do not escape a mythological infection of fear and irrationality. "Time is circular and repetitive, the same today as yesterday and tomorrow, identical this instant to ancient times."—Victor Flores Olea5
Signs of faith and religious zeal punctuate everyday life. Evidence of contemporary pagan ritual can sometimes be found at pyramid sites—the image of a skull on the ground, made of flowers and seeds, returns us to a world of shamanism that has not receded as far as we thought. Poignant naïve-style paintings (retablos) and written testimonials memorialize divine intercession at Christian pilgrimage sites. Many of the depicted miracles are rather ordinary; they affirm the Mexican sensitivity to the magic of daily existence.6 Small, informal shrines mark roadways and small businesses. Public prayers and the Evangelical laying on of hands are not rare phenomena on city streets.
The establishment and constant repair of the colonial churches mirrors the assembly of Mexican religiosity. The Spanish conquerors forced the Mesoamericans to destroy their temples and reuse the stone for Catholic churches. Recycling the ancient rocks in new buildings did not sever connections to the past as the missionaries hoped. The churches are literally and spiritually supported by the Aztec or Mayan building blocks. In Mexico City the heavy stone churches are sinking into the unstable subsoil necessitating feats of scaffolding, restoration, and the lowering of surrounding streets. The main Cathedral has a giant plumb bob permanently hanging in the center of the church to monitor the shifting structure. The dangerous and disorienting tilts of the buildings are surreal in the manner of the country itself.
Like the churches, Mexican Catholicism holds unknown quantities. For native polytheists, the addition of the Christian god is not a problem. In fact, another god, especially a powerful one, can make the indigenous religion stronger. If the ruling monotheists insist on the exclusionary worship of just one god, polytheism hides. Prayers are not spoken aloud, rituals are performed secretly and old idols are sometimes actually buried underneath the new Catholic crosses. The Christian cross itself resembles some figurations of the native world cross, or tree of life, which unites heaven and the underworld with the earth. “Eventually, even the Church accepted the Indian syncretism of Christianity and paganism, with ancient deities often assuming the formal identity of Roman Catholic saints but preserving their traditional powers, invariably linked to the weather, the harvest, physical health, defense against outside enemies and devotion to the dead.”—Alan Riding7
A few nexus points reveal the complexities of belief and culture in Mexico. The Pino Suarez subway station in the capital channels thousands of daily commuters into a timeless circumnavigation of an ancient Aztec ceremonial platform—sunken into the underground station but still open to the heavens. The aptly named Plaza de Las Tres Culturas, in Tlatelolco, also in the Distrito Federal, embodies the collisions of cultures in a crucible of pain. Here we see ruins of the Aztec structures where Cuauhtemoc surrendered to Cortes alongside a somber Catholic church built from stones of the razed pyramids. Both are amidst the site where the police and army killed three hundred student demonstrators in 1968, just before the Olympics. As if the tragic focus was not enough, several of the massive, working-class apartment buildings surrounding the plaza twisted and collapsed in the 1985 earthquake, killing thousands. Octavio Paz writes: "Past epochs never vanish completely, and blood still drips from all their wounds, even the most ancient."8 Death echoes through Mexican spiritual sites, native and mestizo.
Unlike any other country in Latin America, the vast majority (ninety percent) of the Mexican population is of mixed racial heritage—mestizo. The beautiful brown skin could be a unifying factor, but is, instead, Octavio Paz suggests, often touched by shame, seen as the result of the conquistador's rape of the native mother9, and by uncertainty, in not being either Spanish or Indian. This personal and societal conflict of identity couples with repressive social ranking to cast a fatalistic shadow. The popular response is biting, ironic humor: the engraver Posada and the actor Cantinflas built careers lampooning the upper class. The meaning of “mestizo” is belied by many cultural situations that are not mixed at all; instead, polarities simply exist side by side to create a nation of constant and exaggerated contradictions. Ancient versus modern underlies the spiritual clashes of indigenous polytheism and monotheistic Catholicism as well as the earthly conflicts of traditional and modern farming methods. From the Olmecs to the Aztecs, religion was rooted in agriculture. Today, as in the past, widespread native languages strengthen cultural resistance to Spanish dominance and make the divides deeper. Schisms continue in rich against poor, urban versus rural, and the tendencies toward violence or passivity. Devotion and faith stand next to extreme practicality.
"The extraordinary economic, political, and ideological power of the Roman Catholic Church . . . has played dramatic, ambiguous, and often contradictory roles in the nation's history."10 The Catholic Church has been embroiled in political life from their initial alliance with the army of the conquest and the beginnings of Spanish rule in the colonial era. Identification with oppressive regimes and the great accumulation of property11 would bring reprisals in revolutionary times, followed by counteractions when conservative government was reinstituted. The rebellious Cristeros fought to preserve the Church’s power and wealth in an ugly civil war in the late 1920’s. Today, despite the strongly religious nature of the country, the public separation of Church and state is such that no politician would ever say, "God bless Mexico."12
Authors Joseph and Henderson make clear that "There have been few periods in Mexico's national history that have not been characterized as times of 'crisis'."13 In no small measure, Mexican spirituality emerges as a response to the recurrent disasters and bloody conflicts of the last three thousand years:
—Advanced civilizations, with sophisticated writing, mathematics, astronomy and art, collapsed through internal strife and drought, or were vanquished by more powerful groups. Unremitting warfare was the status quo. The Mesoamerican conception of time was based on cycles of apocalypse and re-creation.
—The Spanish conquest and colonial period was difficult for everyone who wasn’t born in the European peninsula. The demographic catastrophe of violence and disease that befell the Indians was one of the most terrible in human history. The precolonial Mexican population of 25 million at the beginning of the conquest in 1519 was reduced to 1.4 million by 1605.14 The native peoples who survived lived a three hundred-year nightmare of slavery and abuse that still lingers.
—The United States took half of Mexico’s land in the Mexican-American War (1846-48). Shortly thereafter, France occupied the country for five years.
—In the last two centuries, most of the good political leaders were killed: from the War of Independence (1810-21), the decapitated head of the father of Mexican Independence, Miguel Hidalgo ended up on public display, heroes Ignacio Allende and Jose Morelos were also executed; Revolutionary War (1910-20) leaders Francisco Madero, Emiliano Zapata, Alvaro Obregon, and Pancho Villa were all assassinated. Grass roots movements have largely been crushed or compromised.
—Daily life continues to be such a struggle that many people feel forced to emigrate. Few have confidence that the Mexican government will solve the issues of poverty and corruption; the political rhetoric is shameless burlesque. The state's weakness and corruption have made it unable to stop the drug-based gangs. Mexicans do not trust their government and will not cooperate in the campaign. From 2007 to the present, well over 100,000 people have been killed by organized crime.15
—Of course, American drug consumers, arms dealers and policy makers bear some responsibility as well. This negative effect of Mexico's northern neighbor is not isolated. The US has meddled in this developing country for almost two centuries, flexing its military and economic muscles, usually to support American business interests, such as preventing unions or not paying taxes. Rarely have we supported poor or disenfranchised Mexicans. The gross imbalance of power between the two nations has produced a history of trauma and negative expectations south of the border. Mexico's vulnerability and dependence will color its relationship to the world's richest nation for many years to come. “Poor Mexico! So far from heaven, so close to the United States!” said politician Porfirio Diaz.16
Vibrant murals in town halls portray Mexico’s turbulent past. The imagery depicts the history of the conquest, the Mexican revolution, and idealized triumphs of the people over their rich oppressors—bitter irony for peasant supplicants traversing these halls of bureaucracy where the repression and corruption continue. Will there be future paintings describing the struggles against the narcotraficantes? Most of the time of my project coincided with the worst of this situation and I traveled in some of the most impacted areas, but, aside from a generalized fear for my safety and that of others, I was unaffected.
Despite the scars Mexicans have not lost courage or joy. Perhaps their great openheartedness and friendliness grows out of the pain. Mexicans know that life involves suffering and we are all touched. They understand that suffering has value—teaching us about life and reality—and that knowledge enables them to show remarkable dignity in the face of misfortune. Adversity is used in a continual resurrection and recreation of the self. Resiliency is a national trait. Life is celebrated and creative approaches are the norm, from cooking to automobile repair to painting. Mexicans are attentive to other people and the world; initiating conversation is not difficult (except for the slang) and exchanges are often telling and humorous. People regularly extended kindness and patience towards me. Many possessed a wisdom I wanted to learn.
The legacy and current practice of Indian communalism fosters an innate sense of unity in the population at large and gives Mexican religious experience a strongly social characteristic. Festivals and pilgrimages bring together diverse groups of people and participation of entire extended families and towns is normal. But an acute class-consciousness lurks in the background, as revealed in the folkloric tales of peasants who had miraculous visions but faced rejection by Church officials, or today, in the disparities of dress amongst the faithful.
In a country of poor but hard-working inhabitants, the commercial potential of religion has not been overlooked. All marketing possibilities are exploited by small businesses with sales methods sincere or crass. Any sordidness involved in the sale of religious articles can be redeemed by subsequent blessings by the clergy. At the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe, a constant, loud, megaphoned sales pitch intrudes on quiet prayer. But Mexicans have a high tolerance (or appreciation) for noise and don’t appear perturbed.
I tried to maintain a light, non-didactic approach in making the images but my personal religious experience did not disappear. From serious Catholicism in my youth (priest camp at age 14), I moved to atheism and now secular Buddhism. After years of disappointment with the Catholic faith, I now seek to reclaim what is valuable at the base of religion—such as the promotion of morality, compassion, and community harmony. These values are deeper and more important than any beliefs. Religion can help us cope with the pain and fragility of our lives and to realize our small but meaningful place in this world. Rituals can encourage calmness and contemplation.17 We can be atheistic and still utilize these helpful rites. We can create new nonsectarian practices to promote the worthwhile ideals that we see within religion. And whatever our beliefs, we can expand our spirit into the magnificent spaces of the cathedrals. Although the superstitious aspects of Mexican religious life are evident, many practitioners realize personal and social benefits. For the Mexican indigenes, faith has helped preserve their culture, within which are values of conservation and social equity that are extraordinarily important to our modern world.
Critic Carole Naggar writes on the situation of photographing in a different culture: "Is image making in a foreign land a predatory activity? . . . I believe that voyeurism and violence are never entirely absent in image making, but also that the links between photographers and subjects (as the relationship between conquerors and conquered) are never simple . . . [Photographers] walk a thin line between the danger of a remoteness that renders the other simply exotic, and the danger of fusion, when the photographer makes the other an extension of himself. In both cases, there is a reduction, a simplification. Tension disappears. Pictures become flat, only pictures . . . [More adept photographers] try not to project their preconceptions on what they feel and see, but rather, to let the confusion of reality overwhelm them and teach them what to record. They let their intuition dictate what to photograph; and they also have a desire to be taught by the people among whom they live." 18
I suggest that a good photographer is always in a foreign land. But the question remains: Can a norteamericano do justice to this project? Cultural insight may naturally come from within, but societal emphases, unexamined assumptions, contradictions, excesses and subtleties may be more readily seen from outside. Given the challenges of defining the ever-changing Mexican character, the native born often appreciate any sincere ideas. And, of course, learning extends in both directions; I discover my hidden, cultural predispositions by seeing my ideas in relation to Mexican attitudes. Photography that is aware of such a continuum becomes philosophical inquiry.
With the openness and precision of the camera, I have tried to make new descriptions of Mexican religious life and do so in a direct and human way. I didn’t concentrate on the extremes or the exotic. Just as the dark, morose sculptures of the Aztecs should be balanced with the celebratory, dancing ceramic figures from ancient Veracruz and Jalisco, I want nuanced images from everyday experience that express the rich spirit arising from this nation’s great complexities. Our perception of Mexico needs to move towards insight and respect. We North Americans have much to gain – socially, economically, spiritually – from a better understanding of our very different neighbor.
1Distant Neighbors: A Portrait of the Mexicans (New York: Vintage Books, 1986), ix-xi.
2Brenner, Anita. Idols Behind Altars. New York: Biblo & Tannen, 1928, p.145-6 and Reavis, Dick. Conversations with Moctezuma. New York: William Morrow and Co., Inc., 1990, p.192-3.
3Paz, Octavio. The Labyrinth of Solitude, New York: Grove Press, 1985, p.85.
4Death and the Idea of Mexico. New York: Zone Books, 2005, p.24.
5Naggar, Carole and Ritchin, Fred, eds. Mexico Through Foreign Eyes 1850-1990. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1993, p.17.
6Diego Rivera; from Brenner, Anita. Idols Behind Altars. New York: Biblo & Tannen, 1928, p.170.
7Distant Neighbors: A Portrait of the Mexicans (New York: Vintage Books, 1986), 215.
8Paz, Octavio. The Labyrinth of Solitude, New York: Grove Press, 1985, p.11.
9ibid., p.79-80.
10Joseph, Gilbert M. and Henderson, Timothy J., Editors. The Mexico Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Durham: Duke University Press, 2002, p.4.
11Some estimates say the Church owned up to 50% of Mexican land in the 19th century.
—Country Studies Series by Federal Research Division of the Library of Congress; http://www.country-data.com/cgi-bin/query/r-8728.html.
12Patricia Saldarriaga, talk: “Sacred Violence: The Virgin of Guadalupe in Contemporary Mexican Culture” at Middlebury College, 28 November 2014.
13Joseph, Gilbert M. and Henderson, Timothy J., Editors. The Mexico Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Durham: Duke University Press, 2002, p.4.
14Merrell, Floyd. The Mexicans; A Sense of Culture. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2003, p.69.
15Milenio (Mexico City newspaper), Organized-crime group related homicides 2007-2016 (PDF). Compiled by Justice in Mexico. 2017 &
Laura Y. Calderón, Kimberly Heinle, Octavio Rodríguez Ferreira, and David A. Shirk. Organized Crime and Violence in Mexico, Analysis Through 2018 (PDF). Justice in Mexico, Dept. of Political Science & International Relations, University of San Diego. 2019
16Joseph, Gilbert M. and Henderson, Timothy J., Editors. The Mexico Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Durham: Duke University Press, 2002, p.687
17De Botton, Alain. Religion for Atheists. New York: Pantheon Books, 2012.
18Naggar, Carole and Ritchin, Fred, eds. Mexico Through Foreign Eyes 1850-1990. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1993, p.43,44,48.