The Huichol


THIS FELLOW IS a Huichol Indian, but I guess Indian has fallen out of fashion. Even I know he’s not an Indian, so let’s label him an indigenous Huichol.

Huicholes collect in a number of Mexican zones, but the State of Nayarit seems to be their favorite.

Lots of beads.

The men favor white attire, much like the Maya, but the women dress like rainbows. They are famous for their bead art, most of which looks psychedelic. Huicholes clearly are no strangers to tripping the light fantastic.

This fellow and his wife come to town every year for The Day of the Dead hoopla. They peddle their wares on the sidewalk. Their art sells for far less here on the sidewalk than it does in hoity-toity galleries up north.

I photographed this same fellow a couple of years ago. He was sporting better headgear back then.

As I mentioned in the previous post, a canvas roof on metal poles is being constructed around our main plaza. It was almost done Friday, and a few of the artesanía people were installing their wares. Most, however, had not arrived.

That will happen this weekend.

Walking around the plaza, I paused to shoot this brief video. A jazz band was playing on a stage.

Two ways of seeing


I WAS SITTING on the main plaza with a café Americano negro, a frequent occurrence because I don’t have a real job, when I looked over thataway and noticed this young woman.

She was selling artwork that she’d laid out on a sheet atop the sidewalk, and she had a toddler in tow.

Based on what she was selling and the spectacular colors of her skirt and purse, I’d say she was a Huichol. They tend to come here during the Day of the Dead week to hawk their intricate, beaded artwork to the hordes of tourists.

Generally, I prefer black-and-white photos over color. There are two reasons: Everybody does color, and black-and-white is more dramatic, perhaps a bit old-school — like me.

I decided to offer a choice today due to the color of the door. You might think that ancient door opens into some fascinating realm where rides the ghost of Pancho Villa.

But it’s a bank.