Noticias con sabor a Carlos Monsiváis

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500 views of Mexico

A local character's collection of art and photography culled from street markets has yielded a quirky museum in the capital

QUADE HERMANN.
Special to The Globe and Mail

 

MEXICO CITY -- As you pass under a carved stone arch and into the Museo del Estanquillo, any notions of a museum catnap vanish. This newly opened exhibition in the centre of Mexico City takes you on a tumble through several centuries of political and cultural history. There are no dusty, lifeless artifacts here; it is a riot of humour and tragedy, from first contact between the Aztecs and the Spanish until today.

Everything in the museum comes from the personal collection of Carlos Monsivais, who, at the age of 69, is something of a local artifact himself. For more than 40 years, the writer has been a sharp and witty observer of Mexican culture and politics. Along the way, he amassed about 10,000 pieces of art and photography, buying according to his interests and pleasure, which range from sombre historical events from the Mexican Revolution to the slapstick theatrics of lucha libre (Mexican professional wrestling).

In Order of Appearance is the first exhibit to be culled from this remarkable collection. It's curated by Rafael Barajas, a popular Mexican cartoonist known as El Fisgon (The Snooper). Though it's roughly chronological, what you get is less a step-by-step historical primer and more an impression of what life was like down through the centuries, especially for average Mexicans. In fact, some of what you will see echoes what you can still find in the streets today, such as the satirical posters spearing boondoggling politicians and photos of Aztecs in feathered religious dress offering blessings (for a fee) in the city's central square.

With more than 500 pieces in the exhibition, there is much to see. Among my favourites is a series of colourful dioramas depicting the coming together of Spanish and Aztec societies. In one, a Spanish soldier stands somewhat awkwardly in a lush garden while women and children pick fruit and tend to the plants around him. In another, an Aztec woman, corseted and wearing a long skirt in the Spanish style, sits with her mestizo (mixed blood) children in a very European-looking parlour. The dioramas are set in context by a pyramid explaining the social hierarchy of the times, with Europeans at the top and indigenous people at the bottom.

Another favourite is a scale model of a Catholic cathedral -- the heart of every Mexican town -- and the hustle and bustle in the square in front of it. A monk bearing a crucifix leads four men carrying a coffin toward the doors of the church. Behind them, indigenous women hawk colourful ponchos, vendors sell fruit from baskets and gentlemen stroll with ladies on their arms. A soundtrack of voices and music brings the scene to life.

The museum is a boon for students of Mexico's turbulent political history. For instance, a number of satirical editorial cartoons from the 1800s give winking insight into events of the time. And then there's a series of yellowing broadsheets from 1913 with long calaveras, a form of poetry that in this case pokes fun at the misfortunes of leading figures of the day.

Alongside the humour, though, you will also find harsh realities. One especially affecting display features a handful of photographs from the 1890s of dead infants in their coffins. In one, a brother and his dead sister sit for an otherwise normal family portrait, the boy holding the corpse of his younger sister upright for the camera.

For visitors more interested in the lighter side of life, there is a section on the country's cinema and celebrities, which includes movie screenings and racy photos of Mexican sirens and leading ladies such as Maria Felix and Ninon Sevilla.

The exhibit is rounded out by a series of photos called Night Life, taken in night clubs, and Street Life. In one, a Mexican punk rocker, bone-thin in torn black jeans and cropped leather jacket, leaps past a graffiti-covered wall and almost into the room beside you.

Monsivais bought much of what is displayed here in Mexico City's street markets, which is why he called it El Museo del Estanquillo -- the museum of the shop on the corner. So once you've enjoyed his collection, you can start your own with a trip to the Lagunilla Market, La Ciudadela, or the Sunday art market at the Jardin de Arte.

El Museo del Estanquillo: Isabel la Catolica 26; museodelestanquillo.org. Entrance is about $4.