Capula, tierra de catrineros

Capula, Land of Catrina Makers The image of La Catrina originated in the time of Guadalupe Posada (metal engraving published in 1873), as a way of mocking the humble people who wanted to feel like they belonged to the upper class and dressed like the elegant. In Capula, about 35 years ago, a man named Juan Torres Calderón arrived and, after seeing the knowledge that the potters of Capula had about clay—he made his figures in metal—he invited people from the community to work with clay. The Catrinas began to be made and turned out very well, so he took them all over the country. Thus began a way of showcasing the art that could be created in this town, in addition to pointillist pottery and the making of dishes or flowerpots. Adán Jacobo Cortés, a Catrina maker from Capula, Michoacán, recounts that in the late 1990s he made his first forays into modeling Catrinas. She says that for many, it's the most expressive way to remember someone—because we're all going there, we're all going to die, I want to remember you with a Catrina—she says. She argues that everyone has photos and that there's surely a Catrina for everyone. We don't know when that lady (Death) will come for us; those of us who work with her don't see it that way, although we know she'll arrive. "For us, it's a way to express our talent in this type of craft." Cortés explains how the clients themselves are a source of creativity and inspiration: “For example, a client told me, ‘I want a Catrina, but not like all the others. I want it to be different, so I feel it represents the person I want to remember.’ The feeling that the Catrina leaves on those who have passed, when death arrives, is a beautiful feeling, a special memory. Among all the Catrina makers, we call ourselves Catrina makers, not so much artisans, because we dedicate ourselves to assembling and creating clay Catrinas full-time. It’s a collective effort. If one of us can’t do it, someone else can. That’s how there’s harmony. It’s our experience working with Catrinas without any rivalry; it’s not about some standing out and others not. We share the work of the guild. It’s about sharing ideas and carrying them out among the few of us who are here. A while ago, someone told me they wanted a Catrina painted all red with all the decorations in white. Here’s another new way to make it, a different one.” Let this be a turning point for other artisans to follow suit, to have this kind of work. The Catrina's form is also thanks to people's ideas. If we can achieve something together, we're not in competition. When you're making the Catrina, you can feel the clay and notice the change in mood. For example, Adán explains, "When I go to listen to music, the next day I wake up in a better mood, and it shows in my work and in the piece, which looks cheerful. And when I'm in a bad mood or depressed, the piece looks sad."