Category: Textiles in Mexico

This article was originally published in 2012, shortly after the Casa Museo Frida Kahlo mounted the exhibit titled Las Apariencias Engañan.  Due to overwhelming demand, the exhibition continues to be open and the article bears repeating. 

Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón, age three or four, and friend.  Photo by her father, Guillermo Kahlo.

Which is the Frida Kahlo who most touches your imagination?  The innocent toddler in her beribboned shoes? 

The iconic self-portrait dressed as a Tehuana (woman from Oaxaca's Isthmus of Tehuantepec)?

The pain-wracked, alcoholic, drug-addicted, unadorned, exhausted Frida?  This photo was taken on July 2, 1954, at her last public appearance.  She (in her wheelchair), Diego Rivera, and a group of friends and colleagues marched in Mexico City to protest the involvement of the United States Central Intelligence Agency in the overthrow of Guatemala's president.  Frida Kahlo died on July 13, 1954.

There was a time, and not too long ago, when I thought I understood the moments that these photos purport to reveal.  Photos and self-portraits are a record of life, just as black-and-white as the first and last of these three. Except–perhaps not.  Perhaps, as the on-going exhibit at Casa Museo Frida Kahlo is titled, las apariencias engañan.  Appearances deceive.  What we see is tricky.  Appearances are as fluid as blood in the veins, as liquor down the throat, as dye seeking fabric, as paint on a palette.  And as Anais Nin is alleged to have said, "We do not see things as they are.  We see things as we are."

The original drawing used for the exhibit poster is part of Frida Kahlo's diary.

When Frida Kahlo died, Diego Rivera insisted that the places in her home where the majority of her personal effects were stored (two bathrooms, some trunks and closets) be sealed for the following 50 years.  In 2004, under the close supervision of museum directors, workers knocked down bathroom walls and pried open long-locked doors.  They found literally thousands of items belonging to the couple, including more than 300 of Frida Kahlo's dresses, some of her jewelry, some hair ornaments, shoes, and orthopedic appliances.

A few of the Oaxaca-style skirts and huipiles (blouses) from Frida Kahlo's closets and trunks, currently showing in Room 2 of the exhibit space.  If you are familiar with her paintings, you may recognize one or two.

Detail of encaje (lace) and other fabrics from the skirts shown second and third from the right in the above photo.

Las Apariencias Engañan opened in late November 2012.  According to museum personnel, the exhibit  was to have been on display for approximately one year, during which time the mannequins' clothing was to have been changed every three to four months. Not only did these changes give the public an opportunity to see more of the 300 dresses found when the walls were knocked down, but long-stored delicate fabrics have not been subjected to the stress of their own weight as they are displayed.

The Tehuana headdress from the self portrait shown above.  Click on any photograph to enlarge it for a better view.

The restoration period has lasted nearly eight years.  Despite the conditions under which Frida's clothing and other belongings were stored for 50 years, what we see is a marvel of both natural preservation and expert resurrection.  The mounting of the exhibit, supervised by curator Circe Henestrosa and mounted by prominent British architect and designer Doctor Judith Clark, stuns with its mix of the lovely, the grotesque, and the matter-of-fact.

You may well be familiar with some of Frida's famous hand-painted plaster of Paris corsets, decorated with her fabled fantastical flowers, animals, and even the Communist hammer and sickle.  They are beautiful.  About five years ago, the museum's exhibit of the artist's night bedroom included both her death mask, wrapped in a rebozo, and a plaster of Paris corset.

These three corsets suspended (by white ribbons meant to evoke bandages) from white-tile walls that are symbolic of the bathrooms where the items were found, are not beautiful to any eye.  They are what they are: early 20th century medical appliances meant to bind, to support, and inevitably to inflict pain on the wearer. 

A pair of Frida's black suede shoes.  Srta. Maricarmen Rodríguez López, my personal guide to the exhibit, said, "People ask why Dr. Clark insisted that we mount these shoes showing the back rather than the pretty front with bows on the toes.  Look closer.  The right shoe has an elevated heel to compensate for the shortness of Frida's right leg."  Srta. Rodríguez also mentioned that the entire exhibit is designed to emphasize the disabilities that Frida suffered from the time she was a child of six, when she had polio which left her right leg thinner and shorter than the left.

Frida's calf-high, crimson leather lace-up boot–the left boot, with its wedge heel, decorated with panels of Chinese embroidery and a bell on a ribbon (…rings on her fingers, bells on her toes…).

The right boot and prosthesis, quite literally the other side of the story.  Compare the wedge heel on this boot with the wedge on the other.  Due to gangrene, doctors were forced to amputate Frida's long-injured right leg in 1953.  

The metal supports for this and other items in the exhibit symbolize the iron handrail that pierced her abdomen and uterus in the 1925 trolley-car accident in which she suffered other serious injuries: a broken spinal column, a broken collarbone, broken ribs, a broken pelvis, eleven fractures in her right leg, a crushed and dislocated right foot, and a dislocated shoulder.

Arguably the most famous page from Frida's diary: Pies para qué los quiero si tengo alas pa'volar. (Feet, what do I need them for, if I have wings to fly.)  Dated 1953 and painted just prior to the amputation of her right foot.

From Frida's trunks, a hair ornament.  The tiara includes aluminum and textile flowers and green linen leaves.

Another hair ornament, in the form of a butterfly.

Gold chokers and other necklaces.

Who will see my brokenness, when the glory of my wardrobe hides my pain? In the exhibit, even the limbs of the mannequins resemble prostheses.

A full cabinet of Frida's long-stored belongings: clothing, jewelry, shoes, even a pair of golden cat's-eye sunglasses came from the closets and trunks.

Las Apariencias Engañan is intended to be a revolving, year-long exhibit.  Sponsored in large part by Vogue Magazine, as well as BMW, The Anglo Mexican Foundation, British Airways, The BBVA Bancomer Foundation, the Japan Foundation, Lasalle College of the Arts, Montblanc, the University of the Arts London, and Valentino Parfums, the exhibit also includes a roomful of newly created items of haute couture based very loosely on Frida's wardrobe.  This dress and jacket are by GQ's 2012 Designer of the Year Riccardo Tisci of Givenchy.  Still more designer dresses are by Costume National and Jason Wu, among the other couture houses involved in the show.

From Frida's diary: arrows point to all of the parts of her body where she had surgeries.  A tear falls from her right eye.  I asked Srta. Rodríguez, "But she never had surgery on her head…?"  "No, la flecha esa simboliza el daño psicológico…" ('No, that arrow represents the psychological damage.')  Although the drawing shows only a few arrows, Frida actually had 22 or more surgeries.

Frida Kahlo chose her very Mexican wardrobe with extreme care.  Each item was designed to flatter this part, cover that part, hide the other part.  Under her embroidered and boldly colorful square-cut huipiles (in this instance, Oaxaca-style blouses), terrible leather-and-metal corsets were barely noticable to others.  A maimed foot, a withered leg, a missing leg?  Let the boots take center stage, let the lace-bordered skirts be a frothy smoke screen.  Don't attend to my limp, look at the wreath of flowers in my hair.  Pay no attention to this wheelchair, raise your eyes to my multiple gold necklaces, the bracelets on my arms, the rings on my fingers.

The exhibit reveals in a way that a photo, an article online, or a biography cannot show how and why Frida Kahlo invented the appearance of festive health for herself.  The psychology that moved her to create this way of life and this wardrobe, the fractures (both physical and mental) that shaped her need for window dressing: all is apparent in the exhibit, and we see both the color and the shadow, the harsh reality and the fugue of fashion.  Frida stands naked before us, a human being rather than a souvenir.

Las Apariencias Engañan has enjoyed such an enormous audience that it continues to be on exhibit at the Casa Museo Frida Kahlo.  Mexico Cooks! suggests that in order to buy tickets in a timely manner for the exhibition, you will want to arrive at the museum approximately one-half hour prior to the museum's opening time.  Otherwise, the wait to enter is often very lengthy.

HOURS
CLOSED MONDAYS
Tuesday: 10:00 – 17:45 h 
Wednesday: 11:00 – 17:45 h
Thursday through Sunday: 10:00 – 17:45 h

LOCATION
Calle Londres #247
Del Carmen, Coyoacán
Mexico City, Mexico
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With profound thanks to Hilda Trujillo Soto (Directora Casa Museo Frida Kahlo), Patricia Cordero (Coordinadora de Difusión y Contenidos Digitales, Casa Museo Frida Kahlo), and Maricarmen Rodríguez López (Redes Sociales y Difusión, Casa Museo Frida Kahlo) for their time and effort in arranging a private guided tour of Las Aparencias Engañan for Mexico Cooks!.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

 

 
This weaver, using a back strap loom, creates a patterned fabric by counting threads.

Twenty to thirty thousand years ago, early humans developed the first string, made with handfuls of plant fibers: they discovered that preparing thin bundles of plant material and stretching them out while twisting them together produced a fine thread. The ability to produce string and thread was the starting place for the development of spinning, weaving, and sewing. All three of those indigenous textile making traditions are still strong in today's Mexico.

The fundamental aspects of hand weaving have remained unchanged for millennia. Webster defines a loom as "a frame or machine for interweaving yarn or threads into a fabric, the operation being performed by laying lengthwise a series called the warp and weaving in across this warp other threads called the weft, woof, or filling." Another definition, quite to the point, states: "A loom is the framework across which threads are stretched for the weaving of cloth."

Using a back strap loom in Zinacantán, Chiapas.  Mexico Cooks!, 2008.  Click on any photo for a larger view.

When the back strap loom was developed, it was easy to transport and simple to construct. One end of the loom was attached to a fixed point, like a tree trunk, and the other was a rod, which was held in place with a cord that passed around the waist of the weaver. By leaning back against the waist cord, the weaver could put tension on the warp threads and adjust tautness at will. The back strap loom is still used today by Native Americans in the southwestern part of the United States and by people in Central America and Mexico. The complexity of the work that can be created on this loom is limited only by the skill of the weaver, and the entire loom with the weaving in progress can be rolled up at any time and carried from place to place.

Hanks of naturally dyed wool, drying in the sun in Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca.

In the culture of Mesoamerica (the region extending south and east from central Mexico to include parts of Guatemala, Belize, Honduras, and Nicaragua), clothing fabrics were quite diverse. In arid locations, plants such as yucca, agave cactus, and palm fibers were used for weaving. Where the climate permitted its cultivation, cotton was the chosen fiber. Cotton was grown in Mexico as early as 3000 B.C.–more than 5000 years ago.  Although cotton did not grow in the central region of the Aztec empire, the Aztecs obtained cotton from the peoples they conquered. At that time, only certain social classes were allowed to wear cotton clothing. Rabbit fur and feathers from exotic birds were woven into fabric to decorate luxurious clothing, while amate (bark paper) clothing was used for some ceremonial vestments. The clothing of lower social classes was made of much rougher fibers.

 
Everywhere in Mesoamerica, women wove using a back strap loom, and then sometimes embroidered fabrics and applied shells, precious stones, and silver and gold ornaments to the fabrics they wove. In the south of Mexico, women made weavings using ornamental stitches or, among the Maya, decorating fabric with thin braided ropes. 

Fabrics woven in those ways were of the highest importance in early Mexican life. At times, fabrics were used as money. Each culture of Mesoamerica had deities who watched over those women who carded wool, spun thread, those who wove, and those who embroidered. At birth, a baby girl was symbolically initiated into the work of weaving, and upon her death, a woman was buried with the textile tools that she had used all through her life. Textile making was considered to be much more than a technique. It was a sacred gift bestowed on women by the gods.

Seeds and other plant material are used to make natural dyes.  The basket on the right holds a wooden spindle and a hand carder for raw wool.

Conquest by the Spanish and the continuing presence of the conquistadores changed the panorama of textiles in Mexico. During the time of colonization, new techniques of weaving, materials, designs and forms of dress arrived in the what was then called New Spain. Silks, wools, and the pedal loom needed to weave them were introduced. In addition, the Spanish brought a strong textile influence from Asia and Egypt. 

 
The richness, variety and liveliness of Mexican weaving are in large part derived from the fusion of these influences. Traditional Mexican indigenous clothing represents the union of the people, proud of their geographic and cultural origins. 

In the February-March 2005 New Life Journal, author Lisa Lichtig wrote, "For women, the loom is the violin. Woven bags come in various sizes and colors and are used for carrying everything from food to sacred offerings. Each, however, is made with special woven designs that are signatures from the heart and the dreams of the weaver. 

"In the process of learning to weave, the apprentice makes miniature weavings as offerings to the gods. When a girl leaves her offering, she may take one of the offerings left for that same god by another girl or woman. She takes the borrowed offering home and copies the design, and then returns the borrowed piece and leaves another one that she herself has made. This practice has been a means by which designs were distributed among Huichol women."

 
When the Spanish came to the New World, they brought sheep, previously unknown to the indigenous peoples of Mexico. The natives quickly learned to shear, card, spin, and weave wool. They used native vegetable and mineral dyes to create the vibrant colors so crucial to their designs. Today, as indigenous people herd fewer and fewer sheep, acrylics have largely replaced wool in woven work. Very few weavers still know how to make and use the old dyes.

The indigenous Zapotec are native to the state of Oaxaca, in southernmost Mexico. Many Zapotec are extraordinary rug weavers. The most famous Zapotec rug weaving center is Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, a remote mountain village that has become well known everywhere in the world due to the traditional fine weaving done there. Despite its remote location, the world shows up on the doorsteps of Teotitlán del Valle to buy from the weavers. Rugs from the village are sold all over Mexico as well as in the United States and other countries.

Detail of a rueca (spinning wheel) in Teotitlán del Valle.

Before the arrival of the Spanish and their sheep, the Zapotecos had been cultivating and weaving cotton for several thousand years. Like the Huicholes, the Zapotecos quickly learned to card, spin, dye, and weave wool. They have used traditional vegetable and mineral dyes for centuries, although aniline (artificial) dyes came into use about 30 years ago. 

 
The secrets of natural dyes are jealously guarded. They are extracted from a range of plant mineral and insect sources: indigo blue from the jiquilete plant, green from malachite copper, and the vibrant hues of the red from the world famous cochineal scale insect which lives on the nopal cactus. Dyes are hand-ground and hand mixed. 

Buyer's Note: Some of Mexico's weavers have begun using artificial dyes due to the difficulty and expense of creating dyes with flowers, herbs, insects, and other natural materials.  Ask your rug dealer which dyes he uses. Discerning buyers and collectors insist on natural dyes. Be aware that if a dealer claims to use only natural dyes and the price of a rug you like seems too good to be true, his or her claim is probably not true.

The Zapotec weavers of Teotitlán wove only on traditional back strap looms until the Dominican missionaries introduced harness looms in the 16th Century. Today, some Zapotec weavers like to create modern carpet designs based on the art of Diego Rivera, Pablo Picasso, or Max Escher. Others disagree. One weaver said, "Those are beautiful designs, but those designs are created by painters. I am a weaver, and my rugs are the traditional designs of my people." 

Wool rugs from Teotitlán del Valle, if properly cared for, will last a lifetime whether you use them on your floors or hang them on your walls.  Mexico Cooks! would be delighted to take you to Teotitlán to meet the weavers.  

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.