The hierarchy of the visual arts can be vastly different in the United States than it is in many parts of Mexico. A new exhibit, “Rosas y Revelaciones,” at Denver’s Museo de las América puts that idea in a clear perspective, using an impressive — at times mesmerizing — array of hand-made objects to make the point.
In the United States, the people we commonly refer to as “artists” — meaning painters, sculptors, printmakers, photographers, installationists — are at the top of this particular social order. They are often considered special. Their work is separated out and shown in museums, and it can fetch high prices on the art market.
Folks who express their creativity to make more functional objects — like clothing, quilts, jewelry and household objects — are just that: folk artists. We tend to downgrade them to “craft” makers and consider their wares similar to any other commodity for sale at the shopping mall or grocery store.
But in parts of Mexico, in the states of Oaxaca, Guerrero, Michoacán and other places, the artists who produce these objects have a higher standing. Makers of shawls, blouses, aprons and shoulder bags are respected and revered as much as artists who render landscapes on canvas or sculptures out of stone. Tools like looms, thread, fabric and dye are no less important than oil paint or ink.
It is important to point out that there are plenty of exceptions, of course, on both sides of the border, and the hierarchy does get jumbled, especially lately as “artisanal” crafts have become trendy in the high-priced fine-arts market (and as social media has evened the playing field for all kinds of creativity). Still, the notions of “art” and “craft” traditionally have been less distinct in Mexico. This exhibit shows how that has encouraged textile artists to reach very high levels with their work.
The hundreds of objects in this display were culled together by Linda Hanna, who over many years “collaborated with master artisans across Oaxaca and other Mexican states to create this collection,” according to the exhibit’s written materials.
The texts explain that Hanna, a textile maker herself, moved from Northern California to Mexico in 1997 and soon began aligning herself with regional artists. Part of that work included commissions of work that landed in her personal holdings, from which this show is drawn.
The variety of items in the collection is considerable — shoes, dresses, smocks, wraps and other traditional items of clothing — and it is an eye-opening look at the different ways human choose to cover their bodies and decorate their homes.
But the connector is the famous image of the Virgin of Guadalupe — that familiar rendering of Mary, the mother of Jesus, when she is said to have appeared, in 1591, before Indigenous convert Juan Diego in Tepeyac, in what is now Mexico City.
This image is inescapable in Mexico, and indeed, now in the multicultural United States: Mary, swathed head-to-toe in flowing garments, her hands folded in prayer position, and her entire being surrounded by radiating beams of light.
Recognizing the image’s cultural importance, Hanna made it the central element of the works she collected. Nearly every item in this exhibit has the Virgin of Guadalupe as its main decorative element.
Perhaps because of that choice, and the reverence that people hold for the Virgin and that moment in time, the work on display feels inspired, sometimes to extremes. The workmanship has the aura of devotion, and it is executed with a spiritual zest.
And the objects come across as a body of connected work, rather than as unique star turns. That is largely because there is limited signage that can be easily accessed by museum visitors that credits individual creators, or explains in detail the various techniques of weaving and sewing used to make these amazing things.
That is not to imply there are not stellar moments, and a very brief listing of works on a pamphlet handed out at the front desk singles out a few of them and their complicated methods of construction: an embroidered blouse adorned with blue stitching created by Silvia Sanchez and Victor Manuel Alcaraz, from Colima; a huipil made by Rosa Elvia Leyva Antonio, from Oaxaca, that plays up the images of roses associated with the Virgin’s appearance; a bag by Monserrat Rivera Vidal of Guerrero, covered in both sides with intricate beadwork forming the Virgin’s image.
Curator Maruca Salazar’s choice to play up the communal aspect of the work rather than individual efforts does make sense, especially if you let go of the contemporary art museum model, prevalent at major museums in urban places like New York and Mexico City, that says every object needs to be neatly labeled.
Instead, blouses are pinned in a group on an actual clothesline, dresses hung like everyday clothing in a dresser, or folded and set into trunks. The message here is that these objects have a duality: They are quite fine, but at the same time they are integrated into daily life.
That strategy says a lot about the people who made them, their lack of ego, their incredible talents, their motivation for making the objects in the first place: They were driven by a combination of artistry, usefulness and faith-based devotion. There is pride in this work, but also practicality; the way this exhibit unfolds quietly underscores that idea.
The show, with its limited signage, also makes all viewers look critically at how they view art at most museums. How much of our reverence for work comes from those labels? Do we really need all that signaling from curators? Would we love a Monet as much as we do if the sign didn’t tell us his name and reek of his reputation?
Maybe yes, maybe no. It’s something to consider wandering through this show. There are different ways to categorize and rank creative objects, and there are different ways to consume the objects once they are made. There is legitimacy in both accepting and rejecting all of those methods and hierarchies.
IF YOU GO
“Rosas y Revelaciones: Homage to the Virgin of Guadalupe” continues through Jan. 11 at Museo de las Américas, 861 Santa Fe Drive. Info: 303-5781-4401 or museo.org.