Fábrica la Aurora: Textile Factory Turned Art and Design Center

A popular stop in San Miguel de Allende, the Fábrica la Aurora spins a new yarn as a complex filled with antique shops, galleries, artist studios and restaurants. 

La Fábrica la Aurora, an old textile factory, is a winding complex filled with art of all sorts.

San Miguel de Allende is a town with art in its DNA. There are galleries galore and shops full of colorful folk art. But we knew that one of the places we had to add to our itinerary was the Fábrica la Aurora. It just sounded so interesting: It’s a former textile mill that has been converted into a vibrant arts center. A remnant of Mexico’s industrial era, the factory was built at the turn of the 20th century and featured the best technology of the time. The complex operated for nearly 90 years producing percale (a fabric often used for bedsheets), muslin and flannel, before closing for good in 1991 — that is, until it was reimagined as an arts center in 2004.

We took one look at the mask wall at the front of Casa Michoacana and knew we had to go in.

Walk This Way: Shopping Stops on the Way to Fábrica la Aurora 

Whenever we can, we walk on foot in the cities we stay, and I’m especially glad we did so in SMA — otherwise we might have missed Casa Michoacana, an incredible shop filled with folk art that we passed on the way to the Fábrica. Many of the items here are made by artists from the state of Michoacán but also include a few from other regions of the country, too. You will find a collection of ceramic piñas of all sizes, multi-tiered candelabras, innumerable masks, wood carvings and more. The staff was patient and informative, and it was here that we found a variety of changos, black clay vessels used for storing mezcal in the shape of a monkey, and purchased one.

The owners also run the sister shop with the same name, a bit farther down, on the opposite side of the street. Look for the sign with two hands and an archway decorated with handpainted flowers.

“The renovation retains the building’s industrial character, with open spaces, concrete floors, high ceilings, steel casement windows, exposed pipes and more than a few industrial artifacts, including massive mechanical looms.”

We wanted to get this alebrije — but there’s only so much space in our home.

We did, though, find room to bring back a chango mezcalero!

As we walked along Calzada de la Aurora and crossed a puente (bridge), we paused to admire a carved Colonial-era Cantera stone cross. The crucifix features an INRI plaque at the top and so-called Arma Christi (Weapons of Christ), including glyphs of Christ’s face, a nail and a ladder — items linked with Christ’s crucifixion. 

If you walk to La Aurora, you’ll cross a bridge with this cross. It depicts the Arma Christi, the collection of artifacts related to the Passion of Christ.

Here’s your sign (literally) that you’ve arrived at La Fábrica la Aurora.

Art Park in front of La Fábrica la Aurora

Just a few minutes later, we passed an oxidized Cubist sculpture of four converging figures and a sign marking the entrance to Fábrica la Aurora. The park-like grounds contain additional sculptures, including Oso Grizzly by Francisco Esnayra, a striking work of art composed of a series of metal bands in the shape of a bear. It majestically stands in place on a patch of mulch amongst the trees, while the sculpture Looking for Balance by Rodrigo de la Sierra features a trio of his childlike Timoteo characters precariously balancing on an unsupported ladder. 

Oso Grizzly by Francisco Esnayra

Looking for Balance by Rodrigo de la Sierra

La Aurora’s historic façade includes its central archway with metal lettering and wrought iron gate.

The Dawn of a New Fold as an Art Makers Outpost

Most of the original structure of La Fábrica remains intact. Its brick façade is punctuated by Cantera stone arches, made from quarried volcanic rock. Its central entrance has a wrought iron gate and metal lettering spelling out “La Aurora” above. The arts and design center was founded by a quintet of creative forces: Francisco Garay, Christopher Fallon, Mary Rapp, Merry Calderoni and DeWayne Youts. In addition to showcasing local and expat artists’ works, there are also places to eat. A burger joint named El Grandpa & Son occupies one side of the front and can be seen through the aforementioned arches. There’s also a café called Geek & Coffee tucked away somewhere. We didn’t happen to stumble upon it during our visit — the complex is quite large and meandering. 

The front courtyard before you enter the sizable complex filled with galleries and studios.

The renovation retains the building’s industrial character, with open spaces, concrete floors, high ceilings, steel casement windows, exposed pipes and more than a few industrial artifacts, including massive mechanical looms that were used for the production of cloth from cotton. 

An industrial Zinser loom tucked among one of the galleries at La Fábrica la Aurora

Wandering the Maze of Fábrica la Aurora

The first shop we stopped into was Cantadora Antigüedades, which specializes in arte popular and ephemera from the 16th to 19th centuries. A figure depicting Jesus riding a donkey, possibly used during Easter week processions, stands outside the store entrance. 

By this time, Wally and I were both craving a snack, and the relaxed and casual open-air Café de la Aurora was the perfect spot. I tried a mango smoothie that incorporated a large dose of ruby red chamoy sauce, which was refreshing. If I had to describe the flavor, I would say that it was simultaneously sweet, spicy and tangy — the chile on the glass rim was a nice touch. What’s chamoy, you ask? The popular condiment is a combination of dried chiles, mangoes, apricots or plums and lime juice that’s added to flavor hard candy as well as drizzled on fruit. 

Just beyond the café, were the cutest vistas of potted plants arranged along the old factory wall.

Lotería imagery decorates this wall at La Fábrica la Aurora.

Can you see why Wally was obsessed with these vignettes?

One shop in the Fábrica, La Buhardilla, purchased a trove of items in 2004, including letters, sketches, paintings and clothing from an eccentric lawyer in Mexico City that were alleged to have once belonged to the surrealist Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. 

These artifacts are well-documented in the fascinating book Finding Frida Kahlo. The personal effects were said to have been originally acquired from Abraham Jiménez Lopez, a woodcarver who received them in lieu of payment for frames he had made for Kahlo. While many experts question their authenticity and say that the objects are fake, I’d like to believe that at least some of them are real. 

This kitty seemed to share our taste in art.

A modern-feeling wing of art galleries toward the back of La Fábrica

After resting and refueling, we ventured into another annex, where we saw a small black and white cat slinking through one of the galleries. We wandered into Manuk Galeria, which was founded by Mexican artist Lourdes Rivera. I suspect we were drawn to this gallery in particular because of its well-curated assortment of contemporary and folk art-inspired pieces.

Artwork on display at Manuk Galeria at the back portion of La Fábrica

While there, the compelling work titled Neblina (Fog), by self-taught artist Erik García Gómez, caught my eye. The painting features a stylized animal (pig? dog?) and spotted albino snakes. According to the artist’s bio, his main source of inspiration comes from the town he grew up in, San Cristóbal de las Casas, and memories of his grandmother, who was a village healer. 

Neblina by Erik García Gómez

A menagerie of heads from a sculpture workshop led by Juan Luis Potosí

The whimsical Travesías sin Rumba by Ernesto de la Peña Folch sits atop a pedestal outside CSEIS gallery. 

Italian for “the Spice,” Le Spezie lives up to its name — the spice of life, that is. This design shop features a mix of handicrafts from Mexico and other regions of the world. Colorful metal roosters, distressed painted furniture, sofas and accent cushions upholstered in colorful fabrics are all for sale here. Also of note is a range of industrial and hammered copper lighting fixtures. I especially liked the painted wood Kamadhenu, the wish-fulfilling Hindu cow goddess, sitting atop one of the cabinets. 

What’s not to love? The Kamadhenu is part woman, part cow, with the wings of an eagle and the tail of a peacock.

The last space Wally and I walked through was Rise, a store featuring the works of Argentine graphic designer Lucas Rise and a clothing line created by his wife and business partner, Giuliana Vastarella. Rendered in jewel-tone hues, his works have been digitally printed onto textiles, with a few resembling kaleidoscopic Rorschach tests. Rise works in a nontraditional manner by using cabinets as his canvas, combining geometric forms, each meticulously painted by hand. 

A steampunk-looking apparatus with oversized gears, a remnant of the textile factory, shares a space with Rise. 

Over the years, La Fábrica has expanded its galleries and studios as places where both national and international artists can create and sell their work. It’s a short distance from the historic center of San Miguel de Allende, and if you’re like the two of us, you can easily spend a fun afternoon going from one gallery to the next. –Duke

A statue of a rearing horse stands in the parking lot of the arts center.

Fábrica la Aurora

Calzada de la Aurora s/n
San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato
Mexico 

 

Magical Mystery Tour of the Chapel of Jimmy Ray

A glimpse into the glittering and colorful legacy of the self-taught expat artist Anado McLauchlin at his house outside of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. 

There’s no denying that a visit to the Chapel of Jimmy Ray will be a unique experience.

When planning a trip, Wally and I seek out quirky sites that are in close proximity to where we’re visiting. That’s how I first came across the Chapel of Jimmy Ray on Atlas Obscura — followed by an intensive image search on Instagram. I shared the fantastical artwork with Wally but was getting worried our itinerary was filling up. He said we’d make the time. 

And, really, how could we pass up such a weird and wonderful attraction during our stay in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico?!

Don’t go expecting to see a chapel, FYI. It’s actually a 2.5-acre complex literally filled with the unusual art of the late Anado McLauchlin. 

The Casa de las Ranas might be too crazy for other people, but Wally and Duke would be more than happy to call it their home.

Since it isn’t exactly easy to find, we hired a driver to take us there. The mosaic wonderland is located at the end of an unpaved dead-end road in La Cieneguita, a small town about 30 minutes from San Miguel de Allende. Our hotel arranged the ride, but when the driver doubled the price on us, we sent him packing — a move we’d later come to regret. 

Upon our arrival, Wally and I were welcomed by trusted artistic assistant Carlos Ramírez Galvan. We met up with another couple and were greeted by a tall bespeckled man with an impressive long white beard, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat. This was Anado’s husband, Richard Schultz, and not unlike a mystical shaman, he was adorned with baubles and charms. Wally thought he looked like the poet Walt Whitman.

Richard leads the tour, which starts at the memorial for his late hubby.

Life’s Rich Tapestry: Anado’s Memorial

We were about 10 minutes late and the tour had already started, so be sure to get there a bit early. 

It started off at Anado’s memorial, which includes a 50-year-old olive tree that he and Richard purchased and planted when Anado was diagnosed with colon cancer. The design and theme was originally proposed for the chapel at the Puerto Vallarta Botanical Garden. However, the garden didn’t have enough money to fund it, Richard told us. 

So, Anado decided to use it as his memorial. The assemblage depicts two Trees of Life and portraits of Anado and Richard in profile. Between them is a blue glass heart and above them are a pair of colibríes (hummingbirds), which are considered sacred to many Mesoamerican cultures. 

A lovely mosaic of the lovebirds

Many of the small pieces of tile used in the construction of the mural come from Dolores Hidalgo. The nearby village is known for the production of brightly colored tin-enameled Talavera tiles — and for Father Miguel Hidalgo, who, on September 16, 1810, rang the church bells from his parish and set the Mexican Independence movement in motion. 

Additional tiles were sourced from Cuernavaca, Morelos. These arrive in ¾-inch squares and need to be cut by hand using a tile nipper, which allows the artists to break off small pieces of the material in a controlled fashion.

To the right of the memorial is a likeness of the Aztec god Xochipilli, (pronounced So-chee-pee-lee). Xochipilli was a benevolent god, a gender-fluid combination of both male and female traits. His name contains the Nahuatl words meaning Flower Prince. He was the god of art — as well as male sex workers. 

Richard pointed out how other indigenous societies like the Lakota Sioux have third-sex individuals who identify as two-spirit and hold sacred roles as teachers, healers and keepers of traditional knowledge among their tribes. Even the Zapotec muxes (mu-shay), who are born male at birth but assume matriarchal roles and female dress, are celebrated in parts of Mexico. 

“Usually, they get stomped out any time religion’s involved, whether it’s Evangelical, Catholic or Muslim,” Richard said. “Being two-spirit doesn’t mean they’re gay, or trans — they’re simply two spirits in one person.”

Anado referred to this as the Arch to Nowhere because at the time there was nothing built beyond it. Now it leads to the gallery (and outhouse).

Anado’s fascination with world religions, especially those honoring the pre-Columbian pantheon, can be found throughout the grounds. There’s a small colorful shrine embellished with pieces of mirror and tile that pays homage to the Virgin of Guadalupe, the venerated patroness of Mexico.

Anado and Richard met the old-fashioned way: in an AOL chat room.

Picking Up the Pieces: Anado’s Fractured Life

Central to the complex is the namesake Jimmy Ray, a mosaic rendering Anado created in honor of his father, with whom he had a troubled relationship. Anado’s given name at birth was James Rayburn McLaughlin III, and his father was James Rayburn McLaughlin Jr. Anado’s father was a doctor and a scoundrel who always had a mistress. He had two sons outside his marriage and died in a plane crash returning from the Caribbean with one of his mistresses. 

“Anado’s mother learned of her husband’s death while watching the local news on TV,” Richard told us. “In life, there was always anger towards his father because the whole family knew what was going on.”

This mosaic is of Anado’s philandering father, the Jimmy Ray the chapel is named for.

One of the reasons Anado named his compound the Chapel of Jimmy Ray (his father’s nickname), was partly as a healing process, to recognize and forgive his dad for being a flawed human being, and to stop internalizing everything his father had done.

Anado was born in Oklahoma City on May 24, 1947. At the age of 20, he was drafted into the Navy during the Vietnam War. As fate would have it, he was stationed in San Francisco. A self-proclaimed product of the Summer of Love, he visited the bohemian Haight-Ashbury neighborhood every chance he could to participate in the crosscurrents of creative expression and social tolerance among the hippies. 

Once Anado got out of the Navy, he returned to Oklahoma City and opened the only head shop in town and was arrested for selling Zap Comix, which local authorities considered to be part of the counterculture movement.

Shortly thereafter, Anado enrolled at the School of Visual Arts in Norman, Oklahoma, where he intended to pursue a career in art. However, he was frustrated by his professors, who told him that his works were “too decorative.”

Screw you, School of Visual Arts in Oklahoma! We think Anado’s work, like this take on a Catrina, is pretty rad.

He left Oklahoma and moved to New York City, where he lived for about 10 years and became a performance artist. Anado made most of his money driving a taxi and was part of the Chelsea Hotel crowd, performing with the likes of Patti Smith and Lou Reed. 

Before meeting Richard, Anado was part of the Rajneeshpuram, the sex-forward cult featured in the documentary Wild, Wild Country.

By the late ’70s, friends were committing suicide and overdosing on drugs. So Anado made the decision to travel to India and join the ashram led by the sex guru Osho Rajneesh. He was rechristened Anand Anado, which means “Blissful Silence” in Sanskrit. Rajneesh relocated to the U.S., founding a controversial community in Oregon, and Anado followed him there.

If you’ve heard about Rajneesh, it’s probably because of the 2018 Netflix documentary Wild, Wild Country. When we asked about this, Richard said Anado wouldn’t watch it because he didn’t share the views of the people who were interviewed from the commune (or, as many would call it, cult). “He felt that they didn’t represent what the everyday person was doing there and that they were part of the problem,” Richard explained.

Anado left the commune and relocated to California. In 1998, he met Richard in an AOL chat room. Richard was a former art history teacher residing in Noe Valley, a neighborhood in San Francisco, and Anado was living in Lagunitas. Suffice to say, sparks flew and Richard eventually became Anado’s husband and muse.

Richard and Anado moved to Mexico and built their colorful home together. Sadly, Anado died of colon cancer in 2021.

A couple of years later, Anado and Richard visited San Miguel for a few days. They returned in 2001 to look for a place to retire and saw a listing in the local newspaper. The property was in poor condition and had been on the market for a while. The price was right: “You have to pay cash when you buy property in Mexico,” Richard explained, “and it was within our budget.”

Anado died of colon cancer in 2021.

The Gallery at the Chapel of Jimmy Ray is itself a work of art.

Memory Box: the Chapel of Jimmy Ray Gallery

Our group followed Richard down a curved staircase flanked with mosaic-covered snakes.

The metaphorical focal point of the property is the Chapel of Jimmy Ray Gallery, a space that showcases an eclectic mix of Anado’s work as well as rotating exhibitions by guest artists who are friends of Anado and Richard. Its exterior features a subversive fountain with an anatomically correct luchador who perpetually “pees” into its basin. 

This fountain outside the gallery is fed by water coming out of the luchador’s bright red penis.

Standing outside of the gallery is quite possibly the most beautiful outhouse ever built. It’s a rounded and thoroughly embellished structure with glass bottles embedded into its terracotta-hued mortar walls, multicolored snake door handles, shiny glass spheres and an Indian chief finial. Anado cheekily referred to it as the Caca Mahal (a play of the Taj Mahal with the Spanish word for poop). It’s a waterless toilet that uses evaporation and decomposition to compost human waste. 

What a throne room! This could very well be the coolest outhouse ever.

We caught the tail end of a show that featured the works of three female artists: Meryl Truett, Ann Chamberlin and Leigh Hyams. We ended up purchasing a piece by Chamberlin of a group of dazed-looking men hiding out in trees called Men in the Fresh Air. Her expressive works are inspired by traditional hand-painted devotional images known as retablos. 

We especially loved the work of Ann Chamberlin, including We Are Angry 2022, featuring multiple women with blunt bob haircuts, wearing sleeveless canary yellow dresses — and all wielding machetes!

A cool side room has a shrine of sorts to Anado

One of Anado’s works is a monumental skull covered in mosaic tiles and cobalt blue bottles titled Time Is Not the Enemy — note the clocks placed in the eye sockets.

On either side of the gallery space are a pair of Día de los Muertos sculptures, a giant bejeweled calaca (skull) and a take on a Catrina. 

A secondary outbuilding, named Casa Kali, showcases some of Anado’s early works, as well as those of his assistant, Carlos.

Destiny Calling: Casa Kali and Coltrane

The first outbuilding Anado and Richard added to the grounds was dubbed Casa Kali and was built as an office. It now holds many of Anado’s early sculptural creations as well as those of his assistant Carlos. 

A gnarled creation by Carlos was one of our favorites and was adorned with a multicolored headscarf and cowrie shell necklaces and held a menacingly large scythe.

This giant, grumpy-looking wood sculpture was made by Carlos’ kids. They named him Coltrane.

As we wandered toward the main house, we passed a monumental effigy head nicknamed Coltrane. It was made from twigs and branches by Carlos’ kids one summer. Wally asked if he was constantly being added to, and without missing a beat, Richard replied, “Or being put back together.”  

One section honors the couple’s kitties who have gone on the Great Litterbox in the Sky. Another mosaic honors their dead doggies.

Good Fortune: Tarot and Other Murals of Kismet Street

An outer wall is covered by an elaborate large-scale mosaic installation called Kismet Street. The name came from a vivid dream Anado had while living in the East Village in the ’70s and features a series of vignettes that took years to complete. 

The politically charged Big Hands features two outward-facing palms. The left hand with blue eye and brick wall represents the United States, while the right-facing green hand with brown eye represents Mexico. The inspiration for the piece was a quote attributed to the Mexican President Porfifro Díaz: “So far from God, so close to the U.S.”

One half of Big Hands, with skulls and a nod to a brick wall to symbolize the United States.

We stopped to smile over yet another unusual aspect of the wall. “We were given a Tyrannosaurus Rex head,” Richard said. “Anado combined it with a platter and turned it into Quetzalcoatl, the plumed serpent.” 

Only Anado could take a T. rex head and platter and turn it into the snake god Quetzalcoatl.

A recurring theme that can be seen throughout the estate in Anado’s art is snakes. Richard explained that snakes are sacred animals to many indigenous cultures around the world, from Asia and the Americas. They’re close to the earth and are often associated with wisdom, healing and knowledge. The Judeo-Christian tradition, of course, had to demonize them (think of the serpent in the Garden of Eden).

Xoloitzcuintli dogs are said to shepherd the souls of the dead, which could explain why Anado chose one for the mural honoring his deceased friend David Wojnarowicz.

Another mural on Kismet Street is of a hairless Xoloitzcuintli dog, and was made by Anado in memory of his former roommate, David Wojnarowicz. David was an activist and mixed-media artist in New York, who died from AIDS-related complications in 1992. Early in his career, he was part of the street art culture and created Mayan dog graffiti around the East Village where he lived. In Mesoamerican religious lore, the Xoloitzcuintli leads the soul through the underworld to its final resting spot.

Other murals were inspired by tarot cards, which Anado read. The Emperor and the Empress have no clothes and were made, in part, from cut beer and wine bottles. The Emperor has a beer bottle penis, which has broken off more than a few times by the couple’s dogs’ excitedly wagging tails. 

A section of the wall features mosaics inspired by the tarot. This one is the Empress, a card depicting maternal influence.

The Lovers features a trio of entangled snakes, which represent the invisible holy energy yogis believe resides at the base of our spines. In tarot, the card depicts the choices we make in life and love, and the consequences of such choices. 

Snakes are a recurring theme in Anado’s mosaics, including this one, inspired by the Lovers card in the tarot deck.

The Hanged Man depicts a young Anado hanging around in New York City in the ’70s. 

“Respectame,” says Anado’s mother in the last mosaic on Kismet Street — a healing work of art that was his favorite of the bunch.

The Fool honors Anado’s beloved mother. She’s looking down at her husband and saying, “Respectame” (Respect me). It was Anado’s favorite piece, Richard told us. He liked the idea of his mom standing up, as she never did during her life. In tarot, this card starts the deck and represents the beginning of a journey.

Two pet memorial walls (one for cats and the other for dogs) are dedicated to Anado and Richard’s beloved companions over the years. They were designed by Anado and completed over a period of two years by Mosaics in Mexico, a mosaic mural-making workshop led by artists Julie Richey and Ana Foncerrada. 

The second part of the tour offers a glimpse inside Anado and Richard’s home.

Casa de las Ranas: Anado and Richard’s Fairy Tale Home

Our tour ended at Casa de las Ranas (Frog House). While renovating their home, which was in a ruined state when he and Richard purchased it, Anado referred to it as a tadpole that they transformed into a handsome prince, earning the residence its name. I found it especially fitting, as the well-known Mexican muralist Diego Rivera aka el Sapo-Rana (Toad-Frog) was born in the nearby capital city of Guanajuato. 

The dining room at la Casa de las Ranas

The house itself isn’t that big — but there sure is a lot going on inside!

The Rosewood gang couldn’t resist getting a photo taken in the kooky casa.

The kitchen at Richard and Anado’s home

Like the rest of the compound, the mosaic images covering the walls were created from pieces of mirror, tile, ceramics, and salvaged and recycled materials. Everywhere we looked there was something fantastic to be discovered. 

The workshop offers a glimpse into the method of Anado’s madness.

Anado had plenty of materials to work with — everywhere you look there are quirky items.

Various artistic inspirations, including Trump’s micropenis

Religious iconography in Anado’s garage workshop

The tour ends in the garage workshop, filled with containers of paint, folk art, necklaces, and odds and ends. Wally bought a bracelet of mismatched beads to remember our time here. 

The Chapel of Jimmy Ray is a journey to an artsy, whimsical world. You’ll feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland.

Final Tips for Visiting the Chapel of Jimmy Ray

1. Make an appointment — through your hotel.

Because the Chapel of Jimmy Ray is Richard’s home and a museum of sorts showcasing Anado’s work, visits are by appointment only. We had emailed Richard weeks before to make a reservation but never heard back. Luckily, the concierge at our hotel in San Miguel was able to connect with him and secure us a spot.

Maybe the trick is to get Richard on the phone. Try giving him a call at +52-415-155-8044.

2. Arrange transportation so you don’t get stranded.

As mentioned, we were upset with being overcharged for our ride out there, and made the mistake of dismissing our driver after he dropped us off. As a result, we found ourselves stranded after the tour. When we tried to connect with a taxi service or Uber, the wifi and cell service was too spotty. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Richard took pity on us and asked Carlos to take us to our destination, the natural hot springs of La Gruta. 

The best option might be to have a driver stay there, so you’re ready to head back after the tour.

3. Be sure to get there on time, if not early.

Our driver showed up late, and by the time we got into the Chapel of Jimmy Ray complex, it was 10 minutes past the appointed time, and Richard had started the tour. As such, we missed some of the background about Anado and the property.

4. After the tour, visit La Gruta Spa and the Sanctuary of Atotonilco.

While you’re in the area, stop by La Gruta, where you can soak in hot springs grottos with locals. And then head down the street to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco, a UNESCO World Heritage Site known for its amazing murals from the 1700s. –Duke

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Chapel of Jimmy Ray and la Casa de las Ranas

Temazcal 3
37893 La Cieneguita
Guanajuato
Mexico

 

Monkey Business: What’s a Chango Mezcalero?

These cheeky monkeys are used to market and store mezcal. We investigate their origins and where to buy changos mezcaleros. 

What’s more fun than a barrel of monkeys?! A chango filled with mezcal!

Monkeys. They’re cute but erratic — just how I imagine myself when I’ve had too much to drink. So it’s no surprise that these primates have come to symbolize drunkenness in Mexico. You could say that monkeys are the spirit animal of mezcal.

Some changos were given as souvenir gifts, as you can see from the hand-painted one above.

What is a chango mezcalero?

These monkey-shaped clay receptacles are really just a clever marketing scheme used to sell mezcal. They hold a liter or so of the potent potable Oaxaca is known for. Most changos are brightly painted and depict monkeys in goofy positions — covering an eye, clutching bananas, holding a snake, playing the guitar. Some were marked, “Recuerdo de Oaxaca (Souvenir of Oaxaca)” or had the name of a couple to be given as a wedding present. 

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LEARN how mezcal is made

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Juventino Nieto (far right) with Rosa Real and their son Valente stand among their pottery creations. Don Juventino might have been the one to create the first chango mezcalero.

Who created the first chango mezcalero?

It’s surprisingly difficult to find out much about these whimsical folk art containers, and there’s a controversy about who invented them. One family from a village outside of Oaxaca insists it was their forebear, Marcelo Simón Galán, who came up with the idea, while another family says it was their ancestor, Juventino Nieto, who did so. Both men are dead, so they can’t even duke it out among themselves. 

(Incidentally, Nieto was married to the late Rosa Real, who’s credited with devising the black pottery technique that Oaxaca is now famous for.)

There are claims that other artisans from other parts of Mexico came up with changos as well. I’ll be a monkey’s uncle — we may never know who actually invented these primate pitchers. 

These ceramic containers are created using a mold like this one.

When were changos first made?

Some say changos mezcaleros date back to the mid-1800s. But a mold used to create changos by Nieto in the village of San Bartolo Coyotepec has the date 1938 written on it. 

These fun monkey-shaped containers were used to market mezcal. With the liquor’s newfound popularity, perhaps changos will make a comeback!

Are changos mezcaleros still made?

Yes. There are at least three workshops in the pueblo of Santiago Matatlán that have produced changos mezcaleros for decades. Makes sense: Matatlán is home to the highest number of family-run mezcal distilleries, or palenques. 

Where can you buy changos?

There’s always the internet, of course, with sites like eBay offering vintage changos mezcaleros. But despite there being a good chance the mezcal containers originated in Oaxaca, we couldn’t find any there. It wasn’t until we visited San Miguel de Allende that we came across a couple stores that sold them: Origenes Antigüedades Populares across from the Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez “El Nigromante” and Casa Michoacana, a folk art emporium on Calzada de la Aurora. 

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Duke and I were so excited to see changos for sale, we of course had to bring one home with us. We got this cheeky monkey for just under 2,000 pesos, or about $100. Not sure if we’ll ever fill him with mezcal, though. –Wally

The Marvelous Murals of the Sanctuary of Atotonilco

No surprise that this UNESCO site has been dubbed the “Sistine Chapel of Mexico.” Pair it with La Gruta hot springs for an easy day trip from San Miguel de Allende. 

Most of the murals at Atotonilco depict scenes from Jesus’ life, including his resurrection (top) and the Last Supper (just below).

We knew we wanted to pair our trip to La Gruta Spa with a visit to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco (a tough one to pronounce, but try, “Ah-toe-toe-neel-ko”). 

The trouble was, we didn’t know how we would get there. To get to La Gruta, we had to bum a ride from someone who works at our first stop of the day, the quirky Chapel of Jimmy Ray, because we couldn’t get any cell service to call a cab or Uber.

Most of the murals at Atotonilco show scenes from the life of Christ, including the resurrection. The style is known as Mexican Folk Baroque.

I looked on Google Maps and determined that the church was only a 15-minute walk away. And once we got past the somewhat busy road that runs in front of the hot springs complex along a highway, we were able to walk on a peaceful cobblestone sidewalk. In fact, we started to see signs indicating that this is a pilgrimage route. So we followed them along a quiet road, Calle Principal, through a canopy of trees, and into a small village, where the church of Atotonilco can be found amid a few businesses and market stalls. 

Almost every inch of the walls and ceilings are covered in murals that date back to the mid-1700s.

“Pilgrims complete their journeys on their knees, wear hair shirts, tie cacti to their chests and wear crowns of thorns.

Atotonilco has also become a hotspot for flagellants — religious devotees who whip themselves to mimic the pain Jesus experienced en route to his crucifixion.”

The façade isn’t much — the wonders lie within.

A statue of Don Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a Catholic priest who, while waving a banner of the Virgin of Guadalupe taken from the Sanctuary of Atotonilco, delivered an impassioned speech for the people to break the yoke of Spanish oppression — and launched the Mexican War of Independence

From the — dare I say — bland exterior, you’d never guess at the gorgeous artwork inside. The façade consists of white walls devoid of decorations, aside from a window here and there. The wall around the church makes it feel like it’s more of a fortress than a sanctuary.

The main church was closed off when we visited — and we were surprised to see that it had plastic chairs instead of pews.

When we went, there was a crowd of tourists, mostly from Mexico, all pressing into the small space. For some reason, the church itself was roped off, with pink and purple plastic chairs in lieu of pews, and the altar visible in the distance. 

The frescoes were painted over three decades by a local artist, Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre.

There are supposedly quite a few chapels and niches inside the structure, but we were only able to go into the Capilla del Santo Sepulcro, or the Chapel of the Holy Burial — for a small fee. A couple of dioramas depict Jesus’ death on the cross. But it’s the intricate, gorgeous paintings, created by a local artist, Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre, that prompted UNESCO to declare this a World Heritage Site in 2008.

John the Baptist baptizes his cousin Jesus in the Jordan River in this mural at Atotonilco.

Judas, shown with a demon straddling his back, betrays Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, while a dog barks at him.

Most of the murals at Atotonilco show the life of Christ — though at least one is from the Old Testament of the Burning Bush talking to Moses.

The frescoes cover the main events of Christ’s life — his baptism by John the Baptist, the Last Supper, Judas’ betrayal, the walk to his crucifixion, his resurrection outside his tomb — though I did spot at least one Old Testament story as well: Moses and the Burning Bush. And there are words everywhere — even long passages of text. The walls are a Bible come to life. 

A holy water font surrounded by de Pocasangre’s murals

An indigenous ruler represents the Americas near the entrance of the church.

The walls of the sanctuary are like a book come to life — there are entire paragraphs in Spanish throughout.

The color palette is minimal — mostly salmon and tan, with some blue, brown, gold and bits of green acting as leaves on the curlicue motif, all set against the white walls of the church. 

A local priest, Father Neri, had a dream where Jesus told him to build a church. Neri did so, founding el Santuario de Atotonilco.

A Dream Come True

Atotonilco means Place of the Hot Waters in the local indigenous tongue. Father Luis Felipe Neri de Alaro had been preaching in the nearby town of Dolores but had fallen ill and decided to check out the curative powers of the thermal springs. 

While dozing under a mesquite tree one day, Father Neri had a dream in which Jesus wore the crown of thorns and carried the cross. Christ said that he wanted the spot where the priest was napping to become a center of penitence and prayer. Neri awoke, filled with divine inspiration, and did just that, founding el Santuario de Atotonilco in 1740. Another possible factor in determining to build the church here: The site was used in fornication rites among the indigenous peoples of the area, and Neri wanted to stop this practice.

Construction continued over the next 36 years. Neri commissioned de Pocasangre to paint the now-famous murals. The artist’s style is known as Mexican Folk Baroque — a blending of local traditions and the ornate flourishes of Flemish masters. 

The statue of el Señor de la Columna shows Jesus with a bloody back from being whipped. It’s paraded through town in a procession held the week before Easter.

Hair Shirts, Crowns of Thorns and Flagellation 

Meanwhile, Neri wanted to honor Christ’s wish in the dream he had — namely, that the sanctuary not just be a place of prayer but one of penitence as well. And Neri’s view of this was of a gruesome, physical variety. 

A symbol of flagellants is Christ tied to a column being whipped, as seen at the top of the image.

From the church’s origin, it has been a place of pilgrimage, with several weeks each year devoted to rites of penitence, drawing up to 5,000 pilgrims in a single week and 100,000 a year. The attached building consists of dormitories and dining halls to house the influx of pilgrims. 

Behind the church are dormitories and dining halls for the 100,000 pilgrims who visit each year.

And many of these pilgrims are hardcore. They complete their journeys on their knees, wear hair shirts (garments made of rough, uncomfortable cloth), tie spiked nopal cacti to their chests and wear their own crowns of thorns. Atotonilco has also become a hotspot for flagellants — religious devotees who whip themselves to mimic the pain Jesus experienced en route to his crucifixion. 

It would’ve been interesting, to say the least, to have been in the village during one of the times when the flagellants descended upon it. But, alas, the town was quite sleepy when we visited.

Looking back at the main entrance to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco

In 1994, the frescoes got a refresh — by the same team that worked on restoring the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City.

The sanctuary, with its numerous murals and frescoes, has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Not surprisingly, after 200 years or so, the frescoes had faded. In fact, in 1994, the World Monuments Fund named Atotonilco one of the world’s 100 Most Endangered Monuments, which inspired a major restoration project that same year. The church was in good hands: Some of the team that had worked to restore the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican City helped breathe new life into these frescoes. In addition, the walls were cleaned, the foundations reinforced and a new drainage system installed.

In the Capilla del Santo Sepulcro, or the Chapel of the Holy Burial, there are scenes of Jesus appearing after his resurrection.

Jesus shows off his stigmata to prove that he was crucified and yet rose from the dead.

Duke and I did our best to snap some photos and move through the crowd, though the front of the chapel was a popular spot for family photos among the locals. 

The only area open for tourists when we visited was a side chapel that showed Christ on the cross — a popular spot for family photos.

Another diorama, this one to the right of the main altar, shows Jesus being taken down from the cross.

A statue of Joseph with baby Jesus on his shoulder, while behind him Veronica shows the veil she used to wipe Christ’s face while he was en route to Calvary to be crucified.

After about half an hour, we decided to head back. We lucked out and saw a taxi passing by as we emerged from the sanctuary. We waved it down and caught a ride back to San Miguel de Allende for a reasonable rate. –Wally

Follow the pilgrimage signs to reach the impressive Sanctuary of Atotonilco.

Santuario de Jesús de Nazareno de Atotonilco

Calle Principal s/n
37700 Guanajuato
México

 

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The Art-Filled Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez El Nigromante

Like many of the most beautiful buildings in Mexico, the Ignacio Ramirez the Necromancer Cultural Center was once a convent. Now this San Miguel de Allende landmark is filled with dramatic murals by David Alfaro Siqueiros, Pedro Martínez and Eleanor Cohen.

The centerpiece of the gorgeous courtyard at the cultural center is a fountain topped with the Christian Lamb of God. Keep in mind that this was once the cloisters of a convent.

Days before her death, Sister María Josefa began to cough up larvae. “The pain was so acute that she fainted,” wrote Miguel J. Malo and F. León de Vivero in the now-out-of-print guidebook San Miguel Allende. Despite her discomfort, she’s said to have kept the larvae — which later transformed into butterflies. 

The nearby Iglesia de la Concepción was once connected to a convent, which gave the church its nickname, Las Monjas (the Nuns).

The beguiling former 18th century Convento de la Concepción was founded in 1736 by María Josefa Lina de la Canal y Hervás, the daughter of the influential de la Canal family. At the age of 15, María Josefa’s parents died, and she inherited a large sum of money, which she used to construct la Iglesia de la Concepción, known locally as Las Monjas (the Nuns), and the adjoining convent. 

A bust of Ramírez sits atop a pedestal in the courtyard. 

“El Nigromante (The Necromancer) was the pseudonym used by Ramírez, a lifelong champion of atheism and freethinking, to conceal his identity in the radical articles he wrote.”

An iron sculpture of a bull by David Kestenbaum stands sentinel in front of the bright yellow façade of the former Convento de la Concepción.

From Convent to Cultural Center 

In 1938, after a series of other uses, the complex was converted into the secular Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes by Peruvian painter and political-activist-in-exile Felipe Cossío del Pomar. It is now known as the Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez “El Nigromante,” in honor of the progressive thinker by that name. El Nigromante (the Necromancer) was the pseudonym Ramírez used to conceal his identity in the radical articles he wrote, which would have surely upset the conservative governing authority of the time. A lifelong champion of atheism and freethinking, Ramírez caused a scandal, for instance, when, in a speech to the literary Academy of San Juan de Letrán, he declared that God didn’t exist. 

A quilt artwork was hanging in the courtyard, with Las Monjas church in the background.

Enjoy the tranquil atmosphere of the Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez.

Various artworks fill the grassy courtyard of the cultural center.

Las Lavanderas (The Washerwomen) by Eleanor Cohen

The Washerwomen Mural

The inner courtyard of the former cloister is surrounded by a succession of contiguous arches. As Wally and I walked beneath them, we discovered a fresco by the American artist and printmaker Eleanor Cohen. The piece is known as Las Lavanderas, (The Washerwomen) and was influenced by the figural style of the famous muralist José Clemente Orozco.  

Cohen and her husband, Max Kahn, were both Works Progress Administration artists paid by the federal government to promote pride and patriotism through public art during the late 1930s. She was the first female recipient of the James Nelson Raymond Traveling Fellowship from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and she used it to study at the Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes in San Miguel de Allende. Kahn taught printmaking there, and Cohen began working on the mural in 1941. Her painting depicts indigenous peasant women washing clothing at a river with a group of children bathing in the foreground. I love that a mural that has a similarly emotive power as the works of Diego Rivera and Orozco was painted by a non-native woman — quite unusual for the time. 

As we entered the room housing Siqueiros’ unfinished work, Wally was startled by the guard sitting against the wall. In his defense, the room is dimly lit. 

Siguiero’s Unfinished Work 

Stirling Dickinson, an American credited with helping establish San Miguel de Allende as an arts center, became the director of the school shortly after his arrival. During his tenure, he invited the celebrated Mexican muralist David Alfaro Siqueiros, an outspoken Mexican Communist Party member, to teach at Bellas Artes in 1948.

His students, who were predominantly U.S. and Canadian war veterans, were enthusiastic about painting a mural under Siquiero’s direction. However, he quickly exceeded his modest art class budget, and abruptly departed after a quarrel with the school’s administrative director, Alfredo Campanella, over funding. 

Duke in the nuns’ former dining hall, now home to an unfinished work by the legendary muralist Siquieros

The impressive unfinished work, Vida y Obra de General Ignacio Allende (Life and Work of General Ignacio Allende), can be found in a room along the north wing, fittingly called the Sala Siquieros. The cavernous space once served as the convent’s dining hall. The intent of the mural was to depict the life of Allende, a leader of Mexico’s War of Independence so well respected that the town, once called San Miguel el Grande became San Miguel de Allende after his death.

A cartoonish detail from Vida y Obra de General Ignacio Allende reveals Siqueiros’ process.

Entering the room and looking up, I noticed a playful almost cartoonish face with elaborate curlicue scrollwork around it. Elsewhere, lines, colors and geometric shapes crisscrossed the walls and vaulted ceiling where painted flames shoot across the ceiling and explode above what looks like an aerial view of farmland. In my opinion the unfinished state of the mural makes it more interesting, as it provides the viewer with a glimpse into the creative process of Siquieros.

Not surprisingly, El Fanatismo del Pueblo by Pedro Martínez, with its giant vampire bat attack, was Duke and Wally’s favorite mural at the cultural center.

Superstition and Drinking Culture in Martínez’s Paintings

Elsewhere within the complex are four works by Pedro Martínez. In 1941 Martínez was invited by Cossío del Pomar to teach the fresco technique to students at Bellas Artes.

His mural El Fanatismo del Pueblo (The Fanaticism of the People) vividly depicts a winged creature attacking a group of women who cower in fear as two caballeros attempt to lasso the flying beast. The fresco is referred to as La Caza del Vampiro (The Vampire Hunt) by locals and is perhaps a criticism of those who naively believe in superstitions. 

Head into the bookstore to see another Martínez mural, La Cantina.

Another of Martínez’s murals can be found in the bookstore. Simply titled La Cantina, the vignette shows a group of men gathered in a tavern drinking pulque. A man in a sombrero leans against the bar, a bemused expression on his face. To his right, a man looks over his shoulder in annoyance. The four men seated in the foreground lean in to listen to a man wearing a pink shirt tied with a bow, who, judging by his body language and snarling mouth, appears to be angry. 

Explore the galleries at the Centro Cultural Ramírez to see the current exhibitions.

The Clamor Progresista Exhibit

When Wally and I visited, there was an exhibit titled Clamor Progresista (Progressive Cry), inspired by the ideas of “the Necromancer,” such as creative freedom and how these ideas are open to interpretation. The project is led by Mexico City-based conceptual artist Abraham Cruzvillegas, who invited more than 60 artists from the state of Guanajuato to create works using multiple formats, from sculpture to paper. 

Part of the Clamor Progresista exhibit

A cool mobile-like sculpture on display when we visited

Today the cultural center belongs to the Mexican National Art Institute (INBA) and offers classes in drawing, painting, sculpture, dance and music. It’s worth stopping by just to admire the beautiful courtyard. And be sure to check out the charming shops across the street, including Origenes Antigüedades Populares. –Duke 

While you’re in the hood, stop into Origenes Antigüedades Populares.

The shop is filled with antiques, many of which are of a religious nature.

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See more amazing murals and read about the Instituto Allende, another art school in San Miguel de Allende.

CLICK HERE

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When you see the bull, you know you’ve come to the right place.

Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez “El Nigromante”

Calle del Dr Hernandez Macías 75
Zona Centro
37700 San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato 
México

 

The Haunting and Horrific Mummy Museum of Guanajuato

The surprisingly popular Museo de las Momias is filled with naturally preserved corpses, dried out and twisted into gruesome positions. Their wide-open mouths are enough to make visitors scream. 

There’s a museum filled with naturally preserved corpses in Guanajuato, Mexico — and it’s a popular attraction with locals and warped tourists alike.

While researching a day trip from San Miguel de Allende, Duke said, “There’s a mummy museum in Guanajuato—”

“Say no more!” I interrupted him. “I’m sold.”

It’s just the kind of perverse spectacle that made us name our site The Not So Innocents Abroad. 

“This woman had wakened under the earth. She had torn, shrieked, clubbed at the box-lid with fists, died of suffocation, in this attitude, hands flung over her gaping face, horror-eyed, hair wild.”

— Ray Bradbury, “The Next in Line”

And we’re not the only ones into this type of gruesome excursion. The parking lot was full, and there was a line to get into the museum. All told, we had to wait about 20 minutes to purchase tickets. 

“The mummies of Guanajuato bring the biggest economic income to the municipality after property tax,” Mexican anthropologist Juan Manuel Argüelles San Millán told National Geographic. “Their importance is hard to overstate.”

Meet the oldest mummy at the museum: Dr. Remigio Leroy, buried in 1860 and exhumed five years later.

Many of the mummies still have their hair and teeth — and dried sacs where their eyes have oozed out.

Our tour guide spoke in Spanish — most of the visitors were locals as opposed to fellow gringos. Our Spanish is nowhere near good enough to follow what he was saying, but we trailed after the group, snapping photo after photo. 

The mummies are pale and desiccated, twisted into horrific poses, their arms crossed over their chest or fingers bent at unnatural angles. The dried skin has flaked off in many areas, looking like a wasp nest, though on a few the skin is pulled taut and smooth. On some, the eyes look as if they’ve oozed out of their sockets to become dried sacs. Quite a few still have their teeth; you’ll see tongues protruding from others. Some still wear dusty clothes, pulled from their graves before the fabric had time to rot away. 

Many still have their hair, wild manes or neat braids. We passed a mummy that had a large patch of gray pubes, which made us groan and then giggle. 

This mummy still sports a patch of gray pubes.

One somber section is devoted to babies, eerie infants dressed in gowns and caps, looking like dreadful dolls. 

But what you notice most are the mouths. They’re open in what appears to be an eternal scream. They’re screaming, as if they knew what their ignominious fate would be. 

So, how did the mummies end up here?

If you’re buried in Guanajuato and no one pays your burial tax…you could end up a mummy at the museum!

Exhumed and Exploited 

Unlike a cemetery in the United States, where you buy a plot of land for perpetuity, the gravesites in the silver mining town of Guanajuato had a burial tax. If a family didn’t pay up, the corpse had to vacate the premises to make way for a paying customer. 

The bodies at Santa Paula cemetery were moved to an underground ossuary — what happens to be the current site of the Museum of the Mummies. 

Check out those cheekbones! This is considered to be the best-preserved mummy at the museum.

Those commissioned with the gruesome task of removing the corpses were shocked to discover that many were well preserved. Turns out that the deep crypts, devoid of humidity and oxygen, provided the ideal conditions to prevent decomposition. The bodies had dried out naturally, transforming into what are now known as the mummies of Guanajuato. 

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Gravediggers lined up the mummies and charged the public a few pesos to see them. Early viewers would break bits off of the mummies or nabbed name tags as souvenirs. 

The macabre practice continued for 90 years, until 1958. Ten years later, the city opened el Museo de las Momias de Guanajuato, and 59 of the original 111 mummies are on display. 

And so the tradition continues — though the museum now charges 85 pesos (less than $5). We sprang for the additional section, which turned out to be a kitschy collection of spooky spectacles in the vein of Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

One of the dioramas in the bonus room at the end.

Thought to be Asian, this mummy is referred to as the China Girl — and is the only one with its original coffin, despite being one of the oldest specimens in the collection.

Mummies Dearest 

The first of the mummies dates back to 1865 and is that of a French doctor, Remigio Leroy. As an immigrant, he had no one to keep up his burial tax. 

One unfortunate soul, Ignacia Aguilar, had a medical condition that greatly slowed her heart, and her family rushed to bury her (not unusual in warm climates). Ignacia was eventually unearthed, her mummy lying face-down — and the ghastly truth was discovered: Due to injuries on her forehead and the position of her arms, she’s believed to have been buried alive. 

The corpse on the left is believed to have been buried alive, while the guy in the middle drowned.

And, alongside its mother, there’s a 24-week-old fetus, believed to be the youngest mummy in existence. 

Analysis of the mummy showed that this woman was 40 years old and malnourished when she died while pregnant. Her fetus is thought to be that of the youngest mummy in existence.

Death on Display

The museum may be popular, but it also comes with its share of controversy. Aside from the questionable ethics of showcasing the forgotten dead in a freakshow of sorts, some scientists say that storing the mummies upright, as many are displayed, hampers preservation. 

But this display of death is just part of the culture. 

“For Mexicans, this isn’t bizarre or weird,” local guide Dante Rodriguez Zavala told Nat Geo. “We have a comfort level with death — we take food to our dead loved ones on Day of the Dead and invite mariachis into the cemetery.”

One of the scariest of the mummies

Pretending to be a mummy at the end

But for some, like writer Ray Bradbury, the experience is haunting. Bradbury, traumatized by his viewing of the mummies in 1945, wrote a fantastic, creepy short story about them called “The Next in Line.” It’s in his collection The October Country and will stick with you long after you finish reading it. The tale is the perfect companion piece to a visit to the Museum of the Mummies. 

Much better than the schlocky horror flick Las Momias de Guanajuato (The Mummies of Guanajuato). This movie from 1972 is part of the luchador genre, starring three wrestlers from the time — Blue Demon, Mil Máscaras and Santo, the Silver Masked Man — saving the town from a resurrected sorcerer (and fellow wrestler) named Satan and his army of the undead. –Wally

Museum of the Mummies of Guanajuato

Explanada del Panteón Municipal
Centro
36000 Guanajuato
Guanajuato
Mexico

 

Instituto Allende: The Influential Art School That Shaped San Miguel de Allende

This art school and event space holds a special place in the charming town’s transformation. Stop by to see the cool murals and refuel at Murmullo café.

Duke and Wally fell in love with the interior courtyard at the Instituto Allende.

The hulking adobe and fieldstone Instituto Allende is a bit outside of the historic city center of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Located on the southwest edge of the Centro, this art school was originally built in 1736 as the summer manor for the influential de la Canal family. 

The Instituto Allende teaches a variety of fine arts, including sculpture.

San Miguel de Allende Goes Artsy 

After Mexico’s War of Independence in 1910, and the decline of silver mining, which had brought San Miguel de Allende its fortune, the colonial town faced an uncertain future. Credit for undertaking its transformation into an artists colony has largely been given to U.S. expat Stirling Dickinson, who became director of the Instituto Allende in the ’50s. 

Yet this is only part of the story. Native son and former Guanajuato governor Enriquez Fernández Martínez and his American wife, Nell Harris, were the instrumental force behind the art school’s founding. Their enduring legacy was carried on by their son Rodolfo, and his daughter Zara is the current director.  

However, it was not the first academic art school in SMA. Peruvian artist and diplomat-in-exile Felipe Cossío del Pomar, received support from President Lázaro Cárdenas to transform the 19th century convent of the Order of the Immaculate Conception, known locally as Las Monjas (The Nuns), into la Escuela Universitaria de Bellas Artes, the University School of Fine Arts. (The building is now occupied by the government-run cultural center known as the Centro Cultural Ignacio Ramírez “El Nigromante.”) 

Sterling Dickinson helped open up San Miguel de Allende as a center for the arts.

Class Act: Dickinson Comes oN the Scene 

Dickinson’s arrival in 1937, at the invitation of Chicago Lyric Opera tenor and Hollywood actor José Mojica, helped shape the future of San Miguel de Allende. He was transported from the train station to the Jardín, the town’s main square, outside of La Parroquia church, in the wee hours of the morning by a mule-drawn cart. When he saw the cathedral’s spires rising out of the mist, he uttered, “My God, what a place!” We couldn’t agree more.

Days later, Dickinson decided to stay and purchased the ruins of a former tannery on a hill overlooking the town, which he converted into his home. The property and land cost a mere $90. Mojica was leading a coalition to promote San Miguel as a magnet for cultured tourists. Film stars, composers, singers, intellectuals, local politicians and artists showed up regularly at his soirées.

The Expressionist works of David Leonardo Chávez cover much of the Instituto.

After its founding, the Instituto Allende became part of the University of Guanajuato, offering master’s degrees in fine arts, and began to gain international recognition. By 1960 it had grown both in size and scope and also offered a bachelor’s program in fine arts. Enrollment at the school continued to rise, and the town’s cultural reputation attracted tourists and expats.

Wally couldn’t get enough of Chávez’s fantastical paintings.

Dickinson came from an affluent Chicago family and had a knack for public relations. His passion for the arts and the culture of San Miguel itself laid the groundwork for promoting the burgeoning school. A 1948 Life magazine article described San Miguel as a “G.I. Paradise,” and given the relatively affordable rents — $10 per month — it’s no surprise that veterans queued up for an opportunity to attend college here. 

As a teacher at the Instituto, Dickinson became known for his Aspects of Mexico course, which combined lectures and experiential field trips. He attempted to foster a relationship built on mutual respect for indigenous Mexican culture and history among his students (to various levels of success).

Out back, you can wander around the beautiful campus and see the various classrooms.

Uncommon Grounds: A Walk Around Campus

Wally and I stopped by the main entrance of the Instituto on a Friday afternoon and found its massive wooden doors locked tight. Wally knocked on the door, and a janitor instantly opened it — only to inform us that it was closed to the public for a couple of days.

The institute is now split into two buildings: one for classes and a café, and another for weddings and other events. Unfortunately, we were unable to see the murals created in the 1950s by John DeMelim and James Pinto. 

We were able to enter the school building, though, through the administrative offices, which had an exuberant mural by contemporary Mexican Expressionist David Leonardo Chávez that crowns the ceiling and part of the walls. The artwork is rich with jewel tones and patterns depicting stylized swimmers. 

This mural of swimmers is one of the first you’ll see when you enter through reception.

Not a bad place to get a degree in art, eh?

While wandering into the adjoining space, we paused to admire more of the painterly works of Chávez, which covers the walls. Beyond, a few students were scattered throughout the leafy park-like courtyard, sitting in the grass and enjoying the dappled afternoon sunlight. Stone paths bisect the grounds leading to pennant-shaped signs pointing students to the various workshops and studios, including ceramics, drawing, jewelry, painting, printmaking, sculpture and weaving. The school also offers a range of Spanish language immersion classes. 

A colorful mural by the bathrooms out back

The Instituto was originally the summer residence of a wealthy family.

After taking a few photos, Wally and I exited on the far side of the campus, where a small group was setting up for an event in the enclosed egress. A young woman told us that this was for Rodarte, a bazaar for artists, makers and local designers from around Mexico to sell their works. The Instituto has always had a philanthropic component since its inception in 1950. Revenue from the event gives back to the community by providing art supplies for low-income students and teachers in the surrounding area.

The main section of Murmullo is chic and minimalist — but we chose to eat in the colorful mural-covered courtyard.

Murmurs and Musings at Murmullo Café

We left the grounds and had a snack at the charming Murmullo café, which is carved out from the Institute property. Our lively server recommended we split the falafel, which Wally and I ordered and agreed was quite possibly the best we’ve ever had. 

Quite possibly the best falafel pita we’ve ever had

Duke and Wally had a delightful lunch at Murmullo — great food, drinks, setting and service.

You couldn’t ask for a cooler setting to enjoy a coffee, beer or bite to eat.

They also serve coffee, which was the perfect excuse for us to caffeinate with iced skim lattes, as well as beer and kombucha. The café has three different seating areas, two indoors and one outdoors. We chose the open-air courtyard, surrounded by Chávez’s fantastical work. The fare and the setting make it worth a visit. Try a coffee, a local microbrew and the falafel. You won’t regret it. –Duke

Instituto Allende

Ancha de San Antonio 22
Zona Centro
San Miguel de Allende
México

 

What to Know Before You Go to San Miguel de Allende

10 travel tips for a trip to SMA, concerning everything from navigating the cobblestone streets, avoiding a potential late-night mugging, taking a taxi, and enjoying free music and art. 

San Miguel de Allende is so charming it’s easy to forget that you still have to play it safe.

I find it hard to imagine that most visitors to San Miguel de Allende won’t have a marvelous time. But, that being said, there are some easy things you can do to help make things go more smoothly.

“A group of friends headed back to their hotel around 2 a.m., but two of the young women got separated.

Before they knew what was happening, they were being attacked.”

Learn how to pronounce it correctly.

Phonetic spellings aren’t the easiest, but it’s really just the last part that would trip up most foreigners. Try saying the town like this: San Mee-ghell day Ah-yenday. 

It’s quite a mouthful, which is probably why some abbreviate it to SMA or simply shorten it to San Miguel. 

Watch your step. 

As charming as the cobblestone streets are, they’re uneven. It’s hard enough to navigate a trip around the historic town center in the best of circumstances, but when it rained while we were there, the stones became surprisingly slick — all the more dangerous because San Miguel de Allende has quite a few hills.

The sidewalks are narrow in most areas, made of local paving stones, with steps up to front doors and dips down for parking all along the way. It’s easy to imagine a quick slip that would result in a sprained ankle. 

I can’t imagine being elderly or mobility-impaired here, and I’m confused how anyone could safely retire in such a hilly town where every step is a potential pratfall. So, reconsider high heels, tractionless sandals or flip-flops unless you’re inside.

Play it safe — and minimize your chances of getting mugged.  

Yes, there’s drug-related violence happening in parts of Mexico. And we don’t want to be on the hook if something atrocious happens — but we’ve made quite a few trips to Mexico in recent years and have always felt safe. 

I mean, most people wouldn’t think twice about a trip to Chicago, where we live, even though there’s an alarmingly high rate of people getting shot. Much like how you should avoid certain neighborhoods in Chicago, there are areas in Mexico to steer clear of. The U.S. State Department offers travel advisories for Mexico on a region-by-region level.

That being said, after our perfectly delightful stay in San Miguel de Allende, we got a startling wakeup call that reminded us never to let our guard down.

The young woman sitting next to us on the plane back complimented our bracelets and asked if we had a nice time in San Miguel. We gushed about our trip and then asked about her stay. Her face became serious, and Duke and I both started feeling awkward, knowing something dramatic was coming. 

“I got mugged,” she said, showing us a large area of bruising on her arm. We listened to her story, eyes wide.

The young woman was in town for a wedding at the Rosewood, one of the fancier chain hotels on the outskirts of town. On a Thursday night, she and a group of friends had been out drinking at the bars. They headed back to the hotel around 2 a.m., but she and a girl friend got separated. Before they knew what was happening, some guy grabbed her.

“I was struggling and fighting back,” she told us. “But then I stopped to ask myself why I was doing that.” 

She got off better than her friend. Her assailant punched her right in the face, breaking her nose. 

The men took the girls’ purses and cell phones — and the incident ruined the trip and left the young women feeling vulnerable and violated. 

Time and time again, we hear about muggings happening to people stumbling home drunk from the bars. (Our friend Kevin, who lives in Oaxaca, gave us similar warnings.) So, please, if you want to go out and have a good time, take a taxi home. Much like in the States, muggings increase late at night on side streets.

Take a taxi when you can — but figure out the cost before you get in.

Duke and I found SMA to be a very walkable city (if a slightly precarious one — see the second tip). If you’re staying at one of the large hotels farther out, I suppose you could hop in a green taxi to get into el Centro. Just agree on your price beforehand. We didn’t taxi around town too much, but you shouldn’t pay more than 100 pesos (5 bucks) a trip.

Skip Uber — and be prepared to fork over a substantial sum for day trip transportation. 

If you’re going for a longer ride outside of town (to the quirky Chapel of Jimmy Ray, La Gruta hot springs, the church of Atotonilco or the city of Guanajuato, say), you’ll have to arrange a driver. Uber isn’t the amazingly easy and affordable option it is in Mexico City. When we visited at the end of 2022, our drivers canceled on us or the app declared that no rides were available. 

A round-trip to Guanajuato was $160, but that involved hiring a driver for the day, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. We got dropped off at the Mummy Museum, wandered by foot along Calle Tepetapa and Avenida Benito Juaréz, then took the funicular up to the overlook. As we headed back down, we texted our driver, and he picked us up near the funicular ticket booth.

So, unfortunately, your best option sometimes is to fork over ridiculously high amounts to get most places. Our hotel-arranged airport pickup, for instance, set us back $128 (though it was an hour-and-a-half ride). 

Not wanting to pay that much when we went back to the airport, we simply went down the street to the taxi stand we noticed along Plaza de la Soledad. The first driver who pulled up said he’d take us to Querétaro Airport for about $60 — half what we paid previously.

Carry change with you for the bathroom — and know which one you’re supposed to go in. 

There are public bathrooms scattered throughout town — but as mentioned in our article on tips for Oaxaca, you’ll have to shell out some pesos to use them. Elsewhere, we’ve found baños typically cost about 5 pesos; here it was often 10 to 12 pesos (we’re still talking about less than a dollar). 

Speaking of baños, if you see a door with an M on it, that doesn’t stand for “men.” It’s “mujeres” — the word for “women” in Spanish. Hopefully this saves some men from the awkward situation of walking into the women’s room. The men’s room will have an H on it for “hombres.”

Enjoy free live music. 

In the evening, mariachis take over the main square, el Jardín de Allende, in front of the big church. It’s a sporadic affair: Sometimes a lone trumpet player will break out into a tune; sometimes a line of six men will play a song for a group of people sitting on the wall in front of San Miguel Arcángel. 

You should definitely devote some time to hanging out in the Jardín in the evening, maybe having a drink at one of the corner cafés, and enjoy the free show.

Climb the hill to the Mirador for a view of the town. 

It’s a cool vantage point to see the city center and the surrounding sprawl — just not an amazing one. It’s quite a hike up to the Lookout, and the trip down the slippery, uneven stones can be hard on the knees. Plus, you’ve got to constantly dodge cars on the narrow streets. 

That being said, if you’re in reasonably good shape and have some extra time in SMA, we do recommend making the trek up to the Lookout. 

Bring an umbrella. 

When it rains, water flows from canales, spouts that jut out a few feet — pouring down smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk. And even hours after it has rained, those spouts are still dribbling out water. 

Admire the art — even if you’re not there to make a big purchase.

Whereas Oaxaca is rooted in folk art traditions like the wooden creatures called alebrijes, SMA has a history of fine art. You’ll pass numerous spots showcasing sculptures and paintings, and we didn’t feel any pressure from salespeople in the galleries and high-end shops we popped into.

If you follow these tips and avoid trouble, you’re sure to have an amazing time in San Miguel de Allende. It’s not hard to see why so many American and Canadian expats have decided to call this magical city home. –Wally

Casa Hoyos Boutique Hotel in the Heart of San Miguel de Allende

With so many places to stay in San Miguel de Allende, you could make your base the cinematic Casa Hoyos, which pays a stylish homage to its storied past, hosts the trendy rooftop bar Bekeb and is within walking distance of the major sites of this charming Colonial city. 

Bright colors and a Deco-meets-Modern design make Casa Hoyos feel like something out of an Almodóvar film. Those eclectic throne-like armchairs come from the Mexico City design studio Comité de Proyectos. 

The building that stands at Mesones 14 in San Miguel de Allende has a colorful past dating back to the 17th century. It’s now Casa Hoyos (the last part is pronounced “Oy-ohz”), a boutique hotel that pays homage to its origins. The property was acquired by Julián Hoyos in 1938 to house both his family and his business. It was here that he established a grain and seed bank. In 1947 he added the city’s first cambio de moneda, or currency exchange, to serve the arriving expats. It operated until the mid-60s. Locals affectionately gave the property the nickname “Banco del Frijol” or “the Bean Bank.”

The home has belonged to the same family for four generations, and under the supervision of Julián’s great-granddaughter and hotel founder, Vianney Torres, reemerged in 2020 as Casa Hoyos. 

Wally hangs out in the swinging chair in the hotel’s front courtyard.

Staying Power

In November 2018 Wally and I stayed at the Ignacia Guest House in the pedestrian-friendly Colonia Roma neighborhood of Mexico City. The accommodations were a collaboration between architecture firm Factor Eficiencia and Andrés Guitiérrez’s interior design firm A-G Studio. I loved the mix of traditional and contemporary style, not to mention the curation of handmade artisan pieces found throughout the former manor, a love letter to its beloved housekeeper Ignacia, who lived and worked at the house for more than 70 years. 

I’ll admit it, I’m a fan of Guitiérrez’s. When the time came for us to find the perfect place to stay in San Miguel de Allende, and I saw that Casa Hoyos was another one of his projects, the decision for me was easy.

If you visit in the warm season, you can cool off in the rooftop pool.

Because the original home is a historic property, every detail of its restoration was regulated and submitted for approval to the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH). UNESCO also oversaw aspects of the renovation, as the town center was designated a World Heritage Site in 2008. 

When it came to selecting color for the façade, INAH requires that all buildings in San Miguel de Allende abide by specific standards–in this case, a particular palette of burnt red, orange and yellow. The hotel’s exterior is covered in a rich red ochre called vasija. 

Circular porthole-like interior windows create fun viewing (and photo) frames.

Rebuilt to Last 

One afternoon we met up with Enrique Garcia, the hotel’s director of operations and marketing, outside the hotel office, which was the original location of the kitchen. I was admiring the well-worn pink stone of the courtyard beneath our feet. Enrique told us that each of these stones was quarried in the hills outside of San Miguel de Allende and, because of UNESCO oversight, required precise documentation and numbering before they could be removed and put back exactly into place. 

Standing outside the office is a beautiful Moorish-looking structure with niches that now hold candles. When I asked Enrique about it, he smiled and told us that it was known as an aguamanil and was used for placing hot clay pots to cool after they were removed from the stove. 

This piece, called an aguamanil, stood right outside the family’s kitchen and was a place to put hot pots for serving.

The courtyard also contains the hotel’s kitchen and breakfast area, which is currently run by As de Guia, as well as a couple of other businesses: Tropa Gallery and Neithan Herbert, a women’s clothing boutique. 

Breakfast from As de Guia consists of fruit, yogurt, granola, toast and coffee.

The light complimentary breakfast consisted of fresh fruit, including cantaloupe, apples and papaya, served with a dollop of yogurt and granola, along with coffee, toast and freshly squeezed orange. if you’d like something heartier, you have to  order from their à la carte menu. 

Looking down at the back lobby with its bright red couches

Like Being on the Set of an Almodóvar Film 

The boutique hotel was built in the second courtyard, where grain warehouses once stood. But the real visual wonder comes when you walk through the passageway leading from the courtyard to the reception counter. The remains of an original brick wall give way to lofted wooden beams and a modern aesthetic — a striking contrast to the Colonial-style buildings just outside its wooden doors. Rooms range from singles, doubles, junior suite and master suite. 

I looked around and remarked to Wally that I felt like I was in an Almodóvar film. The objects and colors of his sets evoke an exuberant mood, much in the same way that Guitiérrez uses color. 

See you around, Wally!

Circling back with you Duke.

Informed by an exchange of ideas with Torres about the home’s history, Guitiérrez and his creative director, Mayela Ruiz, designed a pared-back atrium that forms the center of the space. A hybrid of ’50s Mexican Modernist and ’20s Art Deco, its walls are enveloped in raw concrete — a stark contrast to the graphic pop of glazed yellow ochre tiles and black grout revealed through the curved openings of the surrounding arcade. Andalusian-style balconies typical of a Spanish home complete the design, a reference to patriarch Julián, who moved to San Miguel de Allende from Spain during the Mexican Revolution. 

The tilework Virgin of Loreto looks down (and keeps an eye on?) the honesty bar on the first floor.

During the day, sunlight fills the lobby with a warm glow and features a trio of ’50s-inspired salmon pink Felix sofas with red cushions, a collaboration between industrial designer Christian Vivanco and Monterrey, Mexico-based manufacturer Los Patrones. The unattended honesty bar is stocked with a selection of artisanal mezcals, tequilas and whiskey.

Observing the scene from her second-story perch is the Virgin of Loreto, the patron saint of the Hoyos family and nearby Templo del Oratorio de San Felipe Neri. The hand-painted tile mural was sourced from the town of Dolores Hidalgo, which like Puebla, specializes in tin-enameled Talavera pottery. I didn’t manage to get a good photo of it, but the piece below the Virgin was repurposed and originally served as the exchange house counter. The understated encaustic black cement floors anchor the space and draw the eye up to the tiled walls, the color of maize, a wink to its former life as a grain and seed warehouse. 

Welcome to Casa Hoyos! Concierge extraordinaire Christopher can help you organize outings.

Additional references to the Hoyos family can be found in the hotel’s logo, a pair of serpents from the heraldic family coat of arms, echoed in the details of the arcades’ pale pink and black tile-edged arches and its rounded Deco elements, such as interior windows and lobby portholes.  

The bed in the master suite

Home, Suite Home

Alex, a porter at the hotel, met us upon our arrival and whisked our luggage up to our room. 

We stayed in room 12, the master suite, which was outfitted with a king-size four-poster bed and black and natural woven rattan pieces designed by A-G Studio. The walls and ceiling are covered in a soothing shade of pastel pink. 

Adding to the vibe was a squat gunmetal table lamp by Editora Nacional sitting atop a console with spiral turned legs, one of the aforementioned pieces designed by A-G Studio. On the wall above this hangs a wool tapestry designed by Mexican artist Meli Ávila. 

The LED light rings in the bathroom help put you in your best light.

The bathroom has burnt orange walls, recessed ceiling lighting, a jacuzzi tub big enough for four people and a rain shower. On our first evening there, Wally indulged in a luxurious bath and emerged entirely relaxed. As a bonus, there are two sinks, a pair of circular mirrors with LED lighting rings and botanical body care products by Loredana. 

A fun neon sign on the rooftop terrace

Raising the Bar

On the rooftop terrace of Casa Hoyos is Bekeb, led by master mixologist and owner Fabiola Padilla, who previously honed her skills at Cosme and Diego in New York City. Its name is a palindrome and refers to the Tzontil word bek, which means “seed.” 

Bekeb cocktail bar becomes quite the hotspot on weekend nights.

The thread connecting each cocktail is that they’re all based on roots, plants and flowers. Padilla pairs endemic herbs such as hoja santa and cedrón to infuse traditional Mexican spirits such as mezcal, sotol and racilla. 

The gorgeous view from the rooftop at Casa Hoyos. Here you can see nearby Plaza de la Soledad — along with three of the many churches in town.

Two of Bekeb’s signature cocktails: the Carijillo Allende and the Guava Tiki

Fresh herbs used in cocktails are kept in skull containers at Bekeb.

On our first visit, I tried the signature Bekeb cocktail, which was served in a cool handmade earthenware tumbler, and Wally tried the Milk Punch Vol. 2. I also tried the Carijillo Allende, and Wally the Guava Tiki on the evening before we left. The Carijillo consisted of espresso, cacao liqueur and banana liqueur, garnished with star anise. It was the perfect drink to imbibe as we watched the sun set behind the tiled domes of the Iglesia de San Francisco. 

If you’re looking for something to eat before dinner there’s a tapas menu, and a DJ spins on the weekends, when the bar becomes a trendy hangout. 

Wally and Duke relaxed on the rooftop terrace after a long day exploring the quaint town of San Miguel de Allende.

Home Base

We loved calling Casa Hoyos home. We’ll not soon forget the kindness of the hotel’s chief concierge, Christopher Granados, who took the stress out of coordinating our visit to the Chapel of Jimmy Ray in Cieneguita and a day trip to Guanajuato. 

Its prime location in the heart of the city made it easy for us to set out for the day to explore its sights. It’s a short walk along the cobblestone streets to the lively Jardín de Allende and the spectacular Neo-Gothic Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel, the city’s main parish church. –Duke

Casa Hoyos

Mesones 14
Zona Centro
37700 San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato
Mexico

 

Day of the Dead Ofrendas 2022

The Día de los Muertos ofrendas at the National Museum of Mexican Art focused on victims of COVID as well as gun violence, including the students and teachers killed in Uvalde.

Día de los Inocentes (Holy Innocents Day) by Claudia Álvarez, 2010. The sculpture represents the story in the New Testament where King Herod orders the massacre of all children under the age of 2 in an attempt to kill the baby Jesus.

The Mexican tradition of honoring loved ones with an ofrenda is something every family should adopt. These homemade altars are typically adorned with marigolds, photos, and items the deceased person would appreciate, including their favorite foods and beverages (empanadas and a margarita on mine, por favor). But even if you don’t create one at home, you can see artistic interpretations if you’re in Chicago.

Sometime around mid-October, Duke and I head to the Pilsen neighborhood to see the Day of the Dead ofrendas at the National Museum of Mexican Art. 

The original concept of the exhibit was to honor people in the USA who had been murdered. 

“In the last decade, we have been overwhelmed with the amount of mass shootings on an annual basis that there have been far too many for this exhibition,” reads the sign at the start of the exhibit, proclaiming, “Enough is enough!”

This year, the 36th Day of the Dead installation, covers not only senseless gun violence — including a moving memorial to the victims of the Uvalde school massacre — but Mexican actors who passed away and those lost to COVID and suicide.

Ofrenda to artisans who died of COVID

A photo of one of the artists memorialized in the ofrenda, Tiburcio Soteno Fernandez, with the tools of his trade and his iconic mermaid alebrije.

An ofrenda to Mexican cinema by the Puerto Rican Antonio Martorell

La muerte allá donde la vida no vale nada (Death, Where Life Has No Worth) by Alejandro Cortés, Dolores Gómez Navarro and Jorje Negrete. Note the upside-down ofrenda, pointing to Mictlan, the underworld of the ancient Mesoamerican peoples.

An ofrenda to the Latinx victims of the Uvalde, Texas shooting at Robb Elementary School. It was created by students at Bernard Moos Elementary School in Chicago.

Ofrenda a los Arrancados (Ofrenda to the Uprooted) by Carlos Flores. He used “bandit signs” to pay tribute to the working-class people of color who disproportionally lost their lives to COVID.

This ofrenda, created by the Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art, pays homage to weavers of the war-torn country.

Ofrenda to Nieves Orozco Field, an indigenous dancer who modeled for Diego Rivera

Molds used to make sugar skulls for Day of the Dead

Skeletons go hand in hand with Day of the Dead, as do sugar skulls.

Año de los Muertos (Year of the Dead) by Eric Romero, 2020

A Tree of Life with Mexican rites and rituals by Israel Soteno, 2007

If you’re in Chicago in the fall, you should definitely stop into the National Museum of Mexican Art (it’s free!) to see their ofrendas. ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos! –Wally