On a hill in San Miguel de Allende, a hidden gem, Museo de la Mascara. We ring the bell at heavy wooden door. “Hola, estamos aquí para el recorrido”. (We are here for the tour). Hear a buzz, push the door open. Appointment required for this off-the-tourist track destination.
A cavernous courtyard with a magnificent fountain, terracota clay base decorated with folk art figurines, dark blue tile back, two terracotta clay bowls, one half way up, the other near the top, on a cobblestone floor surrounded by plants. Mural of a dancing señora in a red flowery dress. Cylindrical ceramic piece depicting an indigenous family. Several masks sit on indented shelves in the walls with glass covers.
A group is gathered in a room upstairs. Greeted by a 70 something Norte Americano man wearing an LL Bean plaid shirt, vest and casual slacks. He gives a 30 minute lecture on indigenous tribes and how the museum came to be. Engaging and humorous, passionately sharing with anyone who listens. Admission a hundred peso ($5) donation.
Home and museum was built on bare ground in 1997. After his world travels in a corporate job, he decided to move to San Miguel de Allende to pursue his passion. With no academic credentials, he spent 26 years in the field with an archeologist, learning about indigenous cultures, who have kept and passed on their traditions through generations. He acquiring indigenous masks used in ceremonies, becoming an expert and university lecturer.
There are sixty-four languages in Mexico recognized in the Mexican Constitution, concentrated in the states of Michoacán, Guerrero and Oaxaca. These tribes, never conquered by the Conquistadores, are located mostly in remote mountainous areas or deserts.
Indigenous owners of the masks often refuse to part with them.
Inherited from their great-grandfathers, they sometimes offer a less cherished mask, the ones displayed in the museum.
The actual museum spans three rooms. We spend time examining each of the amazing masks. Several catch my eye. One with a toothy open mouth, black dye under eyes and nose, gray hair and beard. Another with white eyes, red-tipped, smiling with tufts of brown hair and beard. A third with red cheeks, eye holes, bushy eyebrows and beard.
A map on the wall shows the location of every indigenous tribe.
A streaming video show masks worn during ceremonies, rooted in pre-Hispanic traditions, used in ritual dances that transform the dancer into a spirit, ancestor or deity, praying for community welfare and prosperity. Masks often appear as jaguars, serpents, deer or coyotes, the devil, mocking Spaniards or satirical figures, clowns or old men.
Indigenous tribes in Mexico struggle to balance their traditions while simultaneously facing the challenges of minorities living in the modern world: poverty, lack of access to health, education, housing and systematic discrimination, impacting their cultural survival.
I’m thinking these thoughts while at the same time enthralled by the colorful variety, shapes and creativity of masks. Still in the museum after most had left, the owner invites me into a room with masks for sale. The first mask that catches my eye $20,000 (dollars), so I keep looking. Then I see it, labeled Payoso (clown), made by the Totonac tribe in the State of Vera Cruz. It’s pink-colored, smiling, with black irises, holes instead of eyebrows and a blue and red face Paint. It now adorns my living room wall.
indigenous culture
celebrated with ornate masks
link past and future
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