Book 2 – Africa Calling | Morley Grainger

Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 48: What’s in an egg?

My weekly commute between San Miguel de Allende and Mexico City continued as the excavations below the Metropolitan Cathedral unearthed a myriad of Aztec artefacts, many of which were worth recording. Once selected, the responsibility of documenting them fell to me as I was the only archaeological illustrator employed by Patrimonial National at that time.

As the weeks rolled by, the archaeology team continued to visit our favourite restaurant offering ‘comida corrida’, a cheap super-delicious four-course lunch with the menu changing daily.

An example of ‘comida corrida’—offering a set menu for very little money
Image: source unknown

To get there we had no alternative but to walk in single file through the milling crowd of humanity on the street. One day, after we’d eaten, co-worker Jaime, happened to be walking behind me as we made our way back to the Cathedral. On our return, he took me aside and sheepishly said, “I didn’t realise how rude Mexicans were to foreigners.” Rude to foreigners? I’d no idea what he was talking about because my Spanish was basic at best so whatever derogatory remarks were directed at me, went over my head. This was one of the very few positives I derived from only speaking basic Spanish.

As the weeks went by, I gradually began to feel ill but I had no idea why. My symptoms included weight loss, nausea, diarrhoea and finally, projectile vomiting. I phoned my mother who hastily organised an appointment with an English-speaking doctor in Queretaro—a provincial town on the way to San Miguel. On arrival, I was immediately admitted, tested, and quickly diagnosed with salmonella. Salmonella? I knew nothing about salmonella. I learnt it was a bacterial infection, often acquired from lightly-cooked eggs or chicken meat or fish contaminated with either animal or human faeces.

I was promptly rehydrated, prescribed antibiotics and discharged the following day. My mother was beside herself with concern. Still very unwell, I returned to her house in San Miguel to recuperate. I spent a week in bed, suffering the most intense piercing and unrelenting headache. It was as though a circle of barbed wire was being slowly tightened around my head. I could hardly move and I wondered if I was going to die. I realised I had to do something.

My friend Jo-Anne had introduced me to a man who was a respected traditional healer, known in Latin America as a ‘curandero’. Desperate times call for desperate measures. There was no doubt I was in need of his healing skills as conventional medicine hadn’t helped. I telephoned him describing my illness after which he instructed me to get into Mexico City as quickly as possible. Moving slowly and in great pain I managed to catch the next bus into the city; then slowly limped to his first-floor office. I was exhausted when I arrived and thankful I’d made it. After I’d caught my breath, he explained that he would perform a ‘cleansing’ but I’d no idea what it entailed.

He asked me to buy two fresh eggs from the restaurant below. I flatly refused because I was feeling so weak, so he went down instead. Eggs sourced, he next instructed me to use a thick black crayon to draw a 90-centimetre diameter circle onto a large sheet of brown paper then draw a six-pointed star with in it, with each point touching the edge of the outer circle. He then asked me to strip and stand in the centre of the star. The healing had begun.

First, he asked me to cradle one of the eggs in my hand; he then asked if I felt any vibration. I concentrated hard on the egg but felt nothing. His explanation for this was that I was a non-believer. He then took the egg from my hand, then, whilst softly chanting unintelligible incantations, passed it all over my body including the soles of my feet.

Next, he handed me a glass jar half-filled with water and asked me to crack the egg into it. As I gently tapped the shell on the rim of the jar, the egg exploded. Fine grey powdery stuff resembling iron filings, fell onto the brown paper on which I was standing. He then held the jar up to an infrared light to examine the contents. To my utter amazement, the character of the egg had completely changed. The yolk had solidified, now reminiscent of a poached egg and it had a thin strand running from it with clumps of the fine grey powdery stuff floating in the still-transparent albumin. His interpretation: the powdery grey stuff represented the illness and the thin strand represented my connection to my mother—an umbilicus of sorts. I don’t remember his explanation for the solid yolk as it was such a long time ago.

To ensure he got all the ‘illness’, the ritual was repeated with the second egg. This time the egg cracked normally and slid into the second jar half-filled with water. Even without the infrared light, it was obvious this one was as normal as any egg cracked to be scrambled. The ritual complete, I dressed. His final request was that I burn the brown paper on which I’d been standing. I had to refuse his request because I’d nowhere to burn paper without drawing attention to myself in this crowded city.

I walked out of his office healed. I couldn’t believe the change. My excruciating headache and muscle soreness was gone and I was myself once more. Now I could return to my job at the Cathedral.

After my extraordinary healing experience, I was curious to know more about it. The curandero explained that his training had been long and arduous and as part of the training he was required to sacrifice one of his senses. He opted to sacrifice his hearing.

Not long after I returned to the Cathedral, work began to slow and my archaeological illustration skills were no longer required. Fighting back the tears I farewelled my work colleagues who had become close friends in the time we’d been together.

A thesis was required as part of my degree. As the result of my work at the Cathedral, I planned to produce a handbook explaining the various documentation techniques for archaeological excavations. These included stratigraphic drawings of digs in progress, ceramic reconstruction drawings, and visual representations of stone and obsidian objects. I was excited at the prospect of producing something useful, and I was super-keen to get started. But first I needed to find a job.

And so began a very demoralising phase of my life as I tried to find work in Mexico. I asked at the Australian Embassy but unsurprisingly my skill set didn’t match their needs. Next, I doggedly pursued numerous leads that came to nothing. It became clear that I’d no choice but to return to Australia after three life-changing years in Latin America.

With a heavy heart, I broke camp and headed home, assuming returning to the culture I came from would be relatively easy. But I’d no idea how difficult re-entry would be.

ON REFLECTION:
Slagging off at foreigners: I was 175cm tall and very conspicuous in a country where the average height was 160 or less for both men and women of indigenous descent. Newcomers, mostly immigrants from Europe or the United States of America, were often taller. I’m inclined to think the verbal abuse I experienced in the street was based on the assumption that I was a ‘gringa’, from the United States. This prompted a humorous suggestion by a well-meaning friend that I carry a sign saying, “Yo soy Australiana.” (“I am Australian.”) Whenever I met Mexicans for the first time, after uttering this magical sentence, I noticed that their body language and facial expression immediately softened. It seems Mexicans haven’t forgotten the many centuries of North American oppression.

Jaime: Jaime appeared disappointed and apologetic after overhearing the derogatory comments levelled at me on the street. I was touched by his concern and from then on, he became quite protective of me. If ever we were out at night as a group without a vehicle, he would insist on accompanying me back to wherever I was staying that week.

Curandero healing: As the result of my healing experience, I am now far more accepting of diverse ways of healing. All ancient cultures have healers who use plants and minerals to heal. I’m reminded of the books written in the late 1960s and early 1970s of the shamanic training received by initiates in the Mexican desert. The most popular of these were the Carlos Castañeda classics: The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge, A Separate Reality: Further Conversations with Don Juan, and Journey to Ixtlan: The Lessons of Don Juan; now classified as fiction by some scholars.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlos_Castaneda

The curandero: Sometime later he became romantically involved with a woman who insisted he stop his healing work. He agreed and their relationship was formalised and he went on to become a ‘regular’ family man. I am so grateful he was able to heal me before he quit.

Win-win: For a six-month period, I was being paid by the Mexican Government to document important Aztec archaeological finds and at the same time gaining credit towards my Master’s degree. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

Typed on my Masters transcript for both the Spring and Summer Quarter of 1976 is:

“Project: Artist for making drawings of the objects excavated from beneath the National Cathedral, Mexico City, by authority of the Secretary of the Department of National Patrimony. Grade given by her superior, Dr Constanza Vega, Archaeologist in charge and Architect Luis Fernando Rodriguez, Architect in charge.”

The grade awarded was an ‘A’. Nice.

FACTS:
Salmonella: occurs when raw or undercooked meat and poultry, raw or lightly cooked eggs, unpasteurized milk or raw shellfish becomes contaminated with either animal or human faeces.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salmonella

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 47: A sociological intensive

Whilst I was working at the Catedral Metropolitana in Mexico City, accommodation remained a worrying preoccupation. I needed somewhere to sleep for four nights each week. What transpired as a result, was a string of overnight stays or billets for want of a better word, with friends, friends of friends or co-workers from the Cathedral. This was the state of play for the duration of my open-ended, non-existent contract when I worked for the Mexican Government as an archaeological illustrator.

The unexpected gift my accommodation dilemma provided was a fascinating sociological intensive. As I moved from one household to another, I witnessed a cross-section of domestic life in Mexico City—observed from the inside. Here I’ll write briefly about a number of my experiences.

Rafael Garcia: My friend and fellow Instituto student Jo-Ann organised a bed for me with her friend of many years standing, Rafael, a freelance newspaper cartoonist. He lived in a third-floor walk-up apartment comprising a living room, a kitchenette, a small bathroom and two bedrooms. It was a typical bachelor pad with both furniture and creature comforts in short supply. Rafael used one end of the living room as his workspace, with his desk placed next to a window that flooded his desktop with natural light. He gave me a key so I could come and go as I pleased.

Rafael’s personal life was a mess. Jo-Ann explained that he was having a steamy affair with a married woman who had a very jealous, controlling husband. The lovers were playing with fire, as I was soon to discover. Most evenings Rafael was out. This suited me as I was not pressured to cook for two or socialise after a hard day at the Cathedral. On the fourth night around eight o’clock, there was a knock at the door. Even though I was alone, I decided to answer the door assuming the knocker would be a friend or a neighbour. But instead, I received a terrifying shock. Before me stood a man with a revolver in his hand, asking to speak to Rafael. I managed to collect myself sufficiently to stammer, “I-I-I-I don’t speak Spanish,” even though I perfectly understood what he said. Whilst waving the revolver around he said menacingly, “Tell Rafael when I see him, I’ll kill him.” He then turned and walked away leaving me standing in the doorway wondering if I was dreaming. I closed the door quickly to discover I was shaking with fear. I made a calming cup of tea, hoping Rafael would return but as he didn’t, I went to bed. Before leaving for work the next morning, I passed on the message. But overnight I’d decided not to return the following week because even as an innocent bystander, Raphael’s private life was too unpredictable for me. Some weeks later, he asked me to a family gathering not far from San Miguel. I agreed to go, well aware I was the smokescreen for his dramatic personal life.

Nery Vargas: Guatemalan Consul to Mexico. Nery lived in a small apartment, off the Paseo de la Reforma, the elegant main drag through the centre of Mexico City. I’d met him when applying for a visa and we’d spent some time together in Guatemala before the 1976 earthquake forced me to return to Mexico. He immediately responded to my desperate plea by offering his spare bedroom. I only lasted four nights because I soon discovered Nery also had a complicated personal life—a wife and family in Guatemala plus a North American woman ‘friend’. I quickly realised my presence may’ve been difficult to explain and could possibly create problems in his marriage as well as his extramarital relationship.

Archaeologist Constanza Vega: my boss, offered me a bed in her beautiful walled house in the upmarket suburb of San Angel. Constanza drove her VW Brasilia to the Cathedral daily. After work on Monday, we drove back to her house where the maid served supper in some style.

My boss, Constanza Vega’s 5-door VW Brasilia. I fell in love with her car and on my return to Australia bought a 3-door one—known in Mexico as a WV Golf
Image: Wikimedia.org

Professionally, Constanza was highly respected both in Mexico and further afield. As a divorced woman, she was fortunate to have a well-established career that gave her an income as well as a focus for her life without a partner, in a country where women of all social classes were expected to marry and remain married.

Next morning, to my surprise, Constanza asked me if I could drive. As I had an international driver’s license as well as an Australian one, I said, “Yes.” To my complete surprise, she handed me the keys of the car and, with Constanza navigating, we headed off. As we approached the Cathedral, I somehow managed to cross eight lanes of erratic fast-moving traffic without incident and my lasting memory of the journey is one of complete terror as Mexican drivers make their own road rules. Thankfully, I wasn’t asked to drive again and this was the first and last time I drove in the city. Grateful for Constanza’s hospitality, some weeks later I was able to reciprocate when she came to San Miguel to stay with us for a weekend in our grand colonial house and I’ve a photograph to prove it.

My boss, Dr Constanza Vega Sosa and me standing in the central courtyard of our rented house in San Miguel de Allende
Image: Grainger family photographs

Co-worker Marta Cabrera: was studying archaeology at the University of Mexico. She was one of very few Mexican women I met undertaking university studies in 1976. Marta’s father was a trucker who paid for her education—a wise investment as she was energetic and smart.

She gathered me up and took me home to her family, living in a large two-storey townhouse with off-white ceramic tile floors throughout. The living room was furnished with gilded Louis XIV cabriole-leg chairs, upholstered in red velvet. As well as the chairs, I have another abiding memory of my stay with her family—that of waking up in the early morning. Half-awake, Marta, a chatterer, would hit me with a burst of rapid Spanish, expecting a coherent reply. Inside I was screaming, “Please, don’t speak to me in Spanish! Not yet. Give me time to become fully conscious.”

Martha drove a shiny red VW Beetle, a very popular car in Mexico at the time. As a result, in true Latin American style, they were referred to as ‘ombligo’, meaning belly button, because everybody has one!

Whilst staying with Marta, I tagged along to her archaeology lectures held in the early evening at the Museum of Anthropology and History. I was always warmly welcomed and, my ad hoc archaeological education continued by eavesdropping on her lectures.

Martha’s shiny red Beetle. The translation: “See the sedan: it’s difficult to perfect the perfect” the blurb talking up the VW Beetle
Image: TheSamba.com

Elisabeth Cuellar: Elizabeth was a transplanted North American with a Master’s from the Instituto. After graduating, she married a Mexican and took his name. The marriage disintegrated but she chose to remain in Mexico and found work. We shared a passion for textiles. She kindly gave me a bed in her apartment that contained many rare and beautiful examples of Mexican crafts in timber, tin, fabric and ceramics. I loved staying with Elizabeth surrounded by beautiful objects and we spoke English. A little respite from the language beyond her walls.

Thankfully, my specialised contribution for Patrimonio National was not affected by the ‘musical chairs’ nature of my various billets across the city.

But an unexpected crisis was looming—one that would seriously affect my health and consequently my work at the Cathedral.

ON REFLECTION:
Mexico City traffic: driving in Mexico in 1976 was a frightening experience. I shudder to contemplate how much worse it must be now as the population has more than doubled. Even then, traffic congestion was horrendous creating daily gridlock across the city and I recall a solution implemented for a time. Cars with registration plates that ended in an ‘odd’ number could be driven one day and those having an ‘even’ number the next. This was a great idea in theory, but I was told that the wealthy side-stepped any inconvenience by having two cars—one with odd number plates and the other even.

Some years later, my fear of driving in Mexico City traffic returned with a rush whilst I was being whisked around the city at speed. I was surprised to find myself uttering small involuntary yelps as we repeatedly came within a whisker of another vehicle. Clearly, self-preservation is a powerful impulse.

FACTS:
The VW Beetle: Mexico began producing Beetles in 1967; production continued until 2003. Over 36 years, 21 million vehicles were produced with some exported to Europe when Beetle production ceased there in the 1970s. When I lived in Mexico, I had no idea that the Mexicans built cars.

Marta Cabrera: has used her archaeological training to become a well-respected authority on petroglyphs.

https://independent.academia.edu/MarthaCabreraGuerrero

Elizabeth Cuellar: From 1955 onwards, Elizabeth systematically collected exquisite examples of traditional handwoven and hand embroidered Mexican costumes. She devoted her professional life to researching, writing, documenting, lecturing and curating important textile-related projects. In later years, Elizabeth’s house at San Angel was my base of operations when I visited Mexico.

Elisabeth’s legacy: In 2011 Elizabeth donated her entire collection to the Textiles and Clothing Museum at Iowa State University—her alma mater. The collection was exhibited as Elizabeth Cuellar’s Mexico – textile variations. Her dedication and commitment to collect, document and preserve Mexican textiles was farsighted and was important in an era of massive change.

Cuellar Textile Collection:

https://youtu.be/QlBEkhrkRZ4

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 46: Finding a bed

I swiftly got into the swing of producing finished artworks for my job as archaeological illustrator with Patrimonio National based at the Catedral Metropolitana in the heart of Mexico City. I hadn’t done this kind of specialised work before but I quickly adapted my commercial art skills to the task at hand.

Ceramic reconstruction drawings of three Aztec vessels on p.43 of El Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan Excavaciones 1968-69 y 1975-76
Published by the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia Mexico City 1979
Images: drawn by Morley Grainger

Ceramic reconstruction drawings of three Aztec vessels on p.42 of El Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan Excavaciones
1968-69 y 1975-76 Published by the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia Mexico City 1979
Images: drawn by Morley Grainger

From the get go, finding accommodation in Mexico City was a problem. Apartments to rent were in short supply and expensive; but I wasn’t earning enough to pay rent, or the customary ‘key money’ demanded by city landlords, let alone to buy furniture. What I needed was a bed from Monday through Thursday, as I returned to San Miguel most Friday nights to catch up with friends and do my washing. I also had scholarship obligations to fulfill that involved producing promotional posters to advertise the many classes on offer at the Instituto. But at this point, the burning question was who could put me up for four nights a week in Mexico City? So the search for a spare room began.

I asked the Guatemalan Consul to Mexico and transplanted American Elizabeth Cuellar. Also, my San Miguel friend, Jo-Anne who’d lived in Mexico City all her married life, asked her city friends, but with no luck. My workmates, once aware of my situation, saved the day. They took turns to take me home and as a result, I had the most amazing sociological experience because I was able to observe Mexican life from the inside. My hosts were both the rich and the aspirational not-so-rich, who believed in education for their children and had the money to pay for it.

The result was a gypsy-like existence for six or so months. It was a time of extreme uncertainty for everyone working at the Cathedral because we didn’t know from one week to the next if funding would continue for the archaeological facet of this restoration project. Rumours were rife. Each Monday morning, I turned up in good faith wondering if, come Friday afternoon there would be a pay packet for my alias, Maria Gomez.

Before leaving office President Echeverria, in addition to funding the foundation stabilisation work at the Cathedral, ordered the restoration of both pipe organs—two of the largest 18^th Century organs in the Americas. Flentrop, the Dutch pipe organ restoration experts, were selected for the job. As only one of the Patrimonio architects spoke English, he got the job of managing the Dutchmen most of whom spoke English.

For me, communication with the Dutchmen was easy and from our conversations I learned quite a bit about the history of each organ. The first one was installed around 1693 and the second around 1736. To put things in perspective, 77 and 44 years respectively, before Captain Cook ‘discovered’ Australia.

After working at the Catedral for some months, the English-speaking architect invited me to join the Dutchmen for a Saturday excursion. He planned to visit some well-known tourist sites in and around Mexico City. Lake Xochimilco was one of the places on his list and I accepted his invitation in a heart-beat because I was keen to see the canals for myself. These interconnected canals are the last remnant of the vast water transport system built by the Aztecs. On weekends, visitors flocked to cruise the canals in colourful trajineras, flat-bottomed punts, with the fragrance of flowers and mariachi music combining to create a festive mood.

VW provided by Patrimonio National for our Saturday outing
Image: Wikimedia

On the day, I was picked up in a beat-up khaki-coloured VW Jeep, borrowed from Patrimonio National’s fleet. Squashed in like sardines, our first stop was a monastery of historical interest and then on to a restaurant for a quick lunch before driving out to Lake Xochimilco—the high point of our Saturday adventure. When we got there, we strolled through the aisles of the fresh flower market, exploding with colour and fragrances before stepping onto a ‘trajinera’.

Flower market at Xochimilco on the outskirts of Mexico City
Image: Facebook

Once seated we enjoyed floating along the canals lined with gardens and curtained by trees; all the while revelling in the expansive richness of Mexican culture that surrounded us. What a treat.

A canal of Xochimilco—note mariachi band moving from one colourfully-painted ’trajinera’ to another
Image: Tour Radar

A canoe filled with flowers to sell at Lake Xochimilco
Image: Pinterest

We all had a wonderful time. For me it was such a relief to speak English for most of the day. I mention this, because I found speaking Spanish exhausting. Even though I’d been living in Mexico for two years, all the Instituto classes were in English and as a result, the only time I got to speak my not-so-good Spanish was with Mexican friends or boyfriends. My work at the Cathedral offered me the opportunity to improve my Spanish but each night I would fall into bed hoping against hope that sleep would clear my jangled brain and that communicating would be easier the following day.

Thankfully, the work I was asked to do at the Cathedral continued to be interesting and varied. An example: as a gift for someone important, I was asked to reproduce a recently excavated Aztec calendar stone on canvas. The request threw up some interesting challenges, the most pressing of which was how to create the texture of stone on canvas. I remembered a painter friend who used a textured paste to form bas-relief off the canvas surface for his highly sought-after profile portraits and I thought it would be worth a try. I used the paste he gave me to recreate the shapes of the calendar stone. When the paste was dry, the in-house archaeologists helped me to get the colours and colour placement right. I was very pleased with the result as were my co-workers and hopefully, the recipient of the artwork as well.

2-dimensional representation of an Aztec calendar stone found under the Cathedral during excavation
Image: on p.77of Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan Excavaciones 1968-69 y 1975-76 published in 1979 Recreation: by Morley Grainger

But most of my time was taken up producing ceramic reconstruction drawings using a Rapidograph pen to make thin black lines as well as clusters of same-size dots to create form on a flat surface.

In the photograph below are two pieces of Aztec polychrome ceramics awaiting documentation. Also, amongst my basic tools of trade can be seen my precious black Rapidograph pen and a box of matches and a packet of cigarettes—a reminder of my checkered past.

Morley Grainger at work in the archaeology office at the Metropolitan Cathedral, Mexico City in 1976
Image: Grainger family photographs

Since my arrival in Mexico, I had come to accept that life in this country had an ever-present edge of unpredictability; so different from the life I’d left behind in Australia. True to form, there were more unexpected experiences coming my way.

ON REFLECTION:
The Cathedral artworks: I fulfilled my professional obligation at the Cathedral by producing a series of drawings as requested—for the most part documenting pieces of three-legged, polychromatic ceramic vessels. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the importance of the work I was producing for Patrimonio National. With hindsight, I’m grateful for the opportunity to use my graphic design skills for the project.

Fast forward to early 2020. Thanks to a Cathedral co-worker, I was able to source a copy of the publication that featured my drawings. In the acknowledgements, I note I’m listed as Molly Grainger.

Acknowledgement page from the Arqueologa Constanza Vega Sosa coordinadora de El Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan Excavaciones 1968-69 y 1975-76 published in 1979. My name, incorrectly spelt, is marked with a red arrow.

The Metropolitan Cathedral experience: I now reflect on my experience with a degree of disbelief. With the luxury of hindsight, I wonder if my continuing interest in things archaeological was the direct result of my 1968 visit to Fort Jesus in Mombasa, Kenya, where for the first time, I was exposed to the science of excavating historical sites. The combination of my fascination with things archaeological and my commercial art training brought me to the Cathedral site in Mexico City—a long way from Kenya. There is no doubt in my mind that the work I did for Patrimonio National was a clear example of being in the right place at the right time with the right skill set.

FACTS:
Lake Xochimilco: Lake Xochimilco is an ancient endorheic lake, located in the present-day Borough of Xochimilco in southern Mexico City. The lake is within the Valley of Mexico’s hydrological basin.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Xochimilco

The Catedral Metropolitana: was consecrated in 1656. It’s an immense and imposing stone building that incorporates three distinct architectural styles: Gothic, Plateresque and Baroque; the construction of which was 500 years in the making.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexico_City_Metropolitan_Cathedral

Spanish architect, Arquitecto Claudio de Arciniega designed the Catedral Metropolitana. He drew inspiration from the Gothic cathedrals of Spain. The building has four facades containing portals flanked with columns and statues. There were also two bell towers with 25 bells, built in sections around the original church between 1573 and 1813. Construction of the original church was begun soon after the Spanish conquest of Tenochtitlan in 1521.

https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Claudio_de_Arciniega

The Cathedral interior: Is breathtakingly beautiful with very high ceilings, lots of gold covering two large, freestanding ornate Baroque altars, a sacristy, choir stalls and sixteen chapels, each dedicated to a different saint or saints. The chapels contain smaller, though no less ornate altars, altarpieces, retablos, oil paintings and sculptures.

Interior of the Catedral Metropolitana with a restored pipe
organ on the right
Image: Wikimedia

The Metropolitan Cathedral’s organs: According to Flentrop, the Dutch organ restorers, quote, “the [Cathedral’s] organs constitute a splendid monument to Spanish culture in the New World but are tricky to date precisely.” End quote.

The Flentrop organ restoration team: I’m most grateful to the Dutchmen. They were aware I used soft leather to make garments and as the restoration project drew to a close, they gifted me the white leather skins left over from repairing the organ bellows—an unexpected windfall.

The Metropolitan Cathedral Organ recital: Towards the end of my time at the Cathedral, all the Patrimonio National staff and their families were invited to an organ recital, by a well-known Mexican organist, who was the first to play one of the newly-restored organs. The Cathedral was packed, and the recital was a treat for all of us keen to once more hear the space filled with the sound of music.

The most popular statue in the Cathedral was, and I imagine still is, the Black Christ at the Altar of Forgiveness, positioned on the right-hand side as you enter the Cathedral.

Statue of the Black Christ in the Catedral
Metropolitana Mexico City
Image: Flickr.com

Often believers leave ‘milagros’ at the base of the Cathedral’s numerous religious statues, particularly the Black Christ. These folk charms traditionally accompany prayers for divine intercession and healing and appear in Roman Catholic churches throughout Mexico and in some other regions of Latin America.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milagro_(votive)

A selection of milagros
Image: timbir

Tenochtitlan: The 1976 excavations, that were part of the restoration work done at the Catedral Metropolitana site, uncovered the foundations of one or more sacred structures.

Part of the extensive excavations and restoration of the Aztec city of
Tenochtitlan carried out after the 1976 stabilisation work was carried out at
Catedral Metropolitana. Note the Catedral Metropolitana in the background
Image: Klook

These excavations primed the pump and lead to major excavation work continuing for years—revealing what remains of the magnificent complex of Tenochtitlan that was constructed by the Mixteca 200 years before the Spanish arrived in 1521. The site, is yet another pre-Colombian drawcard that brings thousands of tourists to Mexico to see what remains of Aztec culture, one of the many significant cultures that flourished in Central America over millennia.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tenochtitlan

Publication: Arqueologa Constanza Vega Sosa cordinadora de El Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan Excavaciones 1968-69 y 1975-76 Published by the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia Mexico City 1979. Illustrations by Morley (Molly) Grainger alias Maria Gomez on pp.40-43 & 47-47 & 77.

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 45: Meet Maria Gomez

I had returned unharmed from earthquake-devastated Guatemala to the offer of a job as an archaeological illustrator with the Departamento de Patrimonio National, the Department of National Heritage at the Catedral Metropolitana in Mexico City. The job offer had come out of the blue but it gave me an opportunity to once again put my commercial art skills to good use as well as receiving credit towards my almost complete Fine Arts degree—definitely win-win.

I’d been studying at the Instituto Allende for over two years without a student visa. Student visas were hard to come by and as a result, most of my fellow students came in on a tourist visa for either 90 or 180 days as they were easy to obtain at the border. I discovered that the Cathedral people were prepared to overlook my lack of legal documentation because they wanted my illustration skills. I’d been living in Mexico long enough to begrudgingly accept that this was a country of contradictions. But this example of a blind eye being turned, topped all of my previous experiences.

I was keen to start work. On my first day I took the early bus from San Miguel to get me to the Cathedral in time for a 9 o’clock start, barring a bus breakdown or a highway accident. As I write, my mind is flooded with recollections of the extraordinary traffic incidents I witnessed whilst living in Latin America. One worth sharing occurred on a bus trip somewhere in regional Mexico. My bus, overloaded with passengers and cargo, was crawling up a very steep hill when up ahead there was another bus moving even more slowly. Drawing alongside I could see a fella under the bonnet fiddling with the engine whilst the bus was moving! Oh, my!

Metro station in Mexico City—70 odd stations serving a population of
10 million in 1975
Image: univision

But I digress.

Fortunately, that morning we had an uneventful run into the city. I took the Metro to the station nearest the Cathedral and walked the rest of the way. Once through the gates, I found the site office where I introduced myself to the engineers, accountants and restoration architects supervising the project from two neat rows of wooden desks, facing each other across the enormous room. I spoke English with Architect Luis Rodriguez as he escorted me to the archaeologist’s workrooms, located on the top floor of an adjacent wing. There, I was greeted by my new boss, archaeologist Constanza Vega and the archaeology students doing their practicum at the site. This space would be my workplace for the duration of my non-existent contract.

So, why were we there?

View of the Catedral Metropolitana from the Zocalo note the building leaning to the left, showing subsidence measurements—red arrow marks the archaeologist’s rooms
Image: Buscador de Arquitectura

In late 1975, the country’s unpopular president Luis Echeverria, was coming to the end of his term. He decided to fund the Cathedral’s desperately needed restoration work because the building was gradually sinking. This major expenditure would be his attempt to regain favour with the people who were, in the main, practising Roman Catholics. To do this, Patrimonio National was galvanised into action, hastily gathering the skills and manpower necessary to shore up the sinking building.

Why was the Cathedral sinking?

Tenochtitlan was the extraordinary city built by the Aztecs on Lake Texcoco. It was connected to the lake shore by a wide causeway. When the Spanish invaded Tenochtitlan, now Mexico City in 1592, to establish supremacy, they knocked down the central Templo Mayor and built the Metropolitan Cathedral in its place. Over the centuries due to the falling water table the structural integrity of the building was at risk, creating problems that would only worsen if not addressed.

Scale model of the Templo Major at Tenochtitlan—the Metropolitan
Cathedral is built on top of the almost completely demolished twin
temples in the background
Image: Wikipedia

The solution came in the form of the Pilote de Control, the Control Pile system, invented by Mexican engineer Manuel Gonzalez Flores.

Aztec capital Tenochtitlan 1521—artist's impression of the lake city supporting a population of 250,000
people at the time of the Spanish invasion—the Templo Major at the centre of the complex
Image: Wikipedia

Ingeniero Manuel Flores’s Control piles adjustment system used to level the Metropolitan Cathedral
in Mexico City
Image: source unknown

Before the piles could be installed, 280 to begin with, later another 129, huge quantities of earth were removed from below the Cathedral containing masses of Aztec artefacts. Archaeologists were called in to assess the ‘finds’ of ceramics, obsidian and stone and documenting the most important pieces would be my job. From the pieces I was given, I made black and white ceramic reconstruction drawings, using a dot technique to create dimension.

Archaeological illustration is a specialised art form, the demand for which continued long after the advent of photography particularly in Mexico, where the cost of photographic equipment, film and processing, was prohibitive. Also, photographs didn’t always provide the detail required. As part of the job, I was asked to share my documentation skills with art students from the university.

Ceramic reconstruction drawings of two Aztec vessels on p.46 of El Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan
Excavaciones 1968-69 y 1975-76 Published by the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia
Mexico City 1979
Images: drawn by Morley Grainger

I hardly had time to set up my desk before the pay clerk asked my new boss to give me a Mexican name, a very strange request. The reason? To hide my nationality and visa status. She immediately called an office meeting. Naming me was to be a group effort and what fun we had! I had grandiose ideas of a posh name like Maria de los Angeles Velasquez Riva Palacio or Maria Ines Hernandez de Cervantes but I was out voted. The meeting decided I would be Maria Gomez.

Around noon, I was invited to join the archaeology team for lunch at a restaurant, a short walk from the Catedral. We ordered from the set menu— ‘comida corrida’—the four-course lunchtime special for very little. We began with ‘sopa’, (soup), then ‘sopa de arroz’, a dry rice dish, then ‘carne o pescado con verduras’, the choice of meat or fish with vegetables and finally ‘postre y café’ (dessert and coffee). It took at least an hour to get through the meal, plus the time it took to walk to the restaurant and back to the office. We returned with full tummies around 1:30 or later, depending on the table service and the intensity of the conversation. This pattern was repeated almost every day I was at the Catedral until the fateful day I took a bait.

Comeda corrida—our course luncheon—this image does not show desert
Image: Chilango

On our return to the office, my co-workers did a little work before drifting off around 3:00 pm. I continued to work through till 5:00 mindful of our long lunch and driven by a deeply ingrained work ethic, the result of three years at the Argent Manufacturing Company in Sydney. My rationale was that Maria Gomez was being paid to do a job, so best she gets on with it.

My six months stretch at the Metropolitan Cathedral would provide a number of amazing personal, professional and cultural experiences that I’ll share in the next chapter.

ON REFLECTION:
The Mexican Public Service: my archaeological illustration gig with the Patrimonio National was one of the few times I’ve worked for a government department, preferring the freedom of self-employment.

Maria Gomez: was the name I used to sign for my pay every Friday afternoon for six months until my work at the Cathedral ended. After which I left Maria behind to complete the coursework for my degree at the Instituto.

Mexican Visa: Leaving Mexico every 180 days to renew my tourist visa was an adventure in itself. I could head north to the border towns of the United States or go south to Guatemala. My preference was to go north for ‘shopping’ and pizza. I mostly took the bus but occasionally hitched a ride with others. I remember one memorable trip. Five of us squashed into a low-slung Mustang sports car for the ten-hour trip to Brownsville, Texas, the closest Mexican consulate.

My regular trips to the border were interesting. As I stood in line to enter the United States, I was saddened to see Mexicans treated as second class citizens by the border staff. This was something I found hard to understand as Mexican culture was far older and richer—the food in particular.

FACTS:

1970 Ford Mustang sports car—quite a squash for five adults for the
10-hour run to the border to renew Mexican visas
Image: YouTube

Luis Echevarria: Was President of Mexico from 1970 to 1976. He’s alleged to have had a role in the massacre of leftist students prior to the Mexican Olympics. Snipers shot between 300 and 400 unarmed students in the Plaza de las Tres Culturas on the 2^nd of October, 1968.

On that day my former boyfriend, Carlos Contreras’s parents forbade him to attend the student gathering. He was determined to be part of it and after a monumental argument, he was locked in his bedroom for the day, possibly saving his life.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tlatelolco_massacre

Echevarria’s presidency was plagued by high unemployment, illiteracy and runaway inflation. The latter forced the devaluation of the peso by 50% in 1976. Echevarria then went on to serve as Mexican Ambassador to Australia from 1977 to 1980.

The full name of the Cathedral: The Metropolitan Cathedral of the Assumption of the Most Blessed Virgin Mary of the Heavens. In Spanish: la Catedral Metropolitana de la Asunción de la Santísima Virgen María de los cielos. A mouthful in either language.

The Templo Mayor: called Huēyi Teōcalli by the Aztecs https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexico_City_Metropolitan_Cathedral

Templo Mayor Tenochtitlan Mexico City:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Templo_Mayor

Publication: Archaeóloga Costanza Vega Sosa. Coordinadora de El Recinto Sagrado de Mexico-Tenochtitlan Excavaciones 1968-69 y 1975-76

Published by the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia Mexico City, 1979

Illustrations by Morley Grainger (aka Molly and Maria Gomez) on pp.40-43, 46-47 & 77.

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 44: The earth moved

I was one of eight art students from the Instituto Allende who’d established a temporary base in Guatemala City. This base would support our twelve-week field trip, the purpose of which was to produce multiple drawings of all the indigenous plants of the Peten region. It was hoped that our drawings could help decipher the hundreds of yet undeciphered semi-pictorial glyphs being studied at Harvard’s Peabody Museum. We were all acutely aware that we’d signed up for a most unusual project in an extraordinary part of the world. But if we’d known what was in store, we may’ve had second thoughts.

Our rented house in Guatemala City was large and airy. Once we’d settled in, our focus shifted to fulfilling the purpose of our visit. Tikal was selected.

Travel options to get from Guatemala City to Tikal
Image: kimkim

In late January, raring to go after a two-week delay, we flew out of Guatemala City to the small settlement of Flores, followed by a bouncy one-hour bus ride to Tikal. When we arrived, the midday stillness of the jungle surrounding us was palpable. As it was the hottest part of the day, the wild creatures were quietly resting high up in the tree canopy.

We dropped our luggage at the guesthouse and rushed off to at last experience the grandeur of Tikal for ourselves. We were well prepared, having read and re-read Michael Coe’s fabulous book The Maya, in addition to obtaining the very latest information from the Foundation for Latin American Anthropological Research.

Our delay in getting out to Tikal was in part my doing because I’d agreed to stand in for Nicholas Hellmuth, who presented nightly lectures on the Maya for interested tourists. Shortly after we arrived in Guatemala, he was called away to the United States and I was asked to take his place. My frantic single-minded preparation for the lectures had paid off and I was feeling super cocky; convinced I knew everything there was to know about the Maya.

A good example of tree root growth in the Tikal jungle
Image: source unknown

Mayan temples protruding from the encroaching jungle at Tikal
Image: source unknown

But I digress.

Great Jaguar temple in the Plaza Mayor at Tikal, Peten, Guatemala
Image: Wikipedia

The clammy tropical heat didn’t dampen our enthusiasm as we wandered the well-worn winding paths through the jungle. We were so excited to at last soak up the ambience of the site. As we wandered, one by one we came upon all six fully restored Mayan structures.

Suddenly blasting out across the site came a catchy Latin pop song that drowned out the jungle sounds. Startled, we stopped dead in our tracks and turned to follow the sound to the source where we came upon a most extraordinary sight. Tikal’s Plaza Mayor had become a movie set with enormous, strategically placed speaker towers pumping out huge sound whilst a camera crew filmed Spanish pop singer, Julio Iglesias, wandering the site at the same time miming the words of a romantic song.

Before Tikal, I hadn’t heard of Julio Iglesias. This is understandable as 1976 marked the beginning of his recording career and secondly, I came from a country at the bottom of the world with little interest in Spanish pop singers. Iglesias and his party didn’t stay long. Filming complete, they took a plane back to civilization leaving us to make sense of what we’d just witnessed.

The next morning, with equilibrium restored, we began drawing in earnest. We stopped for lunch and then worked on until sunset. We drew and drew and drew, producing hundreds of detailed drawings depicting every skerrick of vegetation that surrounded us. As the days went by, we settled into a predictable routine. But things were about to change dramatically.

Very early on the morning of the 4^th February the earth moved. I didn’t feel a thing as I slept on in a borrowed tent. When I awoke, I was draped in the tent. What had happened? It wasn’t long before I found out. A 7.5 strength earthquake has struck. The epicentres were located south of Guatemala City. I was told that three or so minutes before the seismic waves reached Tikal, the wildlife felt it coming and the surrounding jungle erupted with terrifyingly loud screeching and howling.

Map showing all three epicentres in red of the 4 February 1976 earthquake in Guatemala
Image:cnn.com

We watched awestruck as the country mobilised to deal with the crisis. We were stranded because the airlines gave priority to Guatemalan nationals in search of relatives. For ten long days, we ate beans and rice. Some days in, the boredom was broken by the arrival of two Australian backpackers. They brought with them the wherewithal to feed themselves including eggs, bread, butter, sugar and cinnamon. I was invited to join them for French toast: a first for me, and a welcome change from beans and rice.

To get out of Tikal, other stranded tourists were considering the risky drive north to Mexico through Belize. But for the team, this wasn’t an option because the remainder of our possessions were back in Guatemala City. We had no choice but to wait it out. Enveloped by the distress that surrounded us, it was impossible to draw so we aimlessly wandered the site, until at last, on the 14^th February we could fly out to Guatemala City.

An outlying area of Guatemala City after the earthquake on 4.2.1976
Image: Wikimedia.org

One of many families affected by the earthquake in Guatemala on 4.2.1976
Image: Soy502

Dislodged masonry walls destroy a vehicle in Guatemala City on 4.2.1976
Image: wsj.com

A child stands in what is left of his home somewhere in Guatemala City after the earthquake hit on 4.2.1976
Image: operationblessing.org

When we got back, we couldn’t believe our eyes. There was no water, no gas nor electricity so for me it was a no brainer. I booked a flight to Mexico City, grabbed my things and left. My rationale was that I’d be one less mouth to feed in a country that was on its knees. I was lucky to be alive and lucky to have somewhere else to go.

On my return to San Miguel my mother greeted me with open arms, overjoyed that I’d escaped. Whilst I was away, she’d moved into a huge colonial house that belonged to rich Americans who only used it at Christmas. My mother invited me to move in. I accepted her offer as this would be a great place to live whilst I completed my studies at the Instituto.

Before I had time to fully recover from the after-effects of the earthquake, I was offered a job as an archaeological illustrator with the Departamento de Patrimonio National, the Department of National Heritage. The job was based at the Catedral Metropolitana on the Zocalo, the main square in the centre of Mexico City. Unbeknownst to me, the botanical illustration project in Guatemala had been brought to the attention of the lead archaeologist at the Catedral, which in turn, led to the job offer. The Dean of the Instituto was chuffed that one of his students had been selected for such a prestigious position and he offered me credit for the work I’d do there. A win-win-win situation, and one that brought me ever closer to completing the coursework for my Master’s degree.

And so, the next chapter of my Mexican adventure was about to begin—different work in an historic working environment with a most interesting group of people. I was excited at the prospect of something new and I wondered how it would pan out.

ON REFLECTION:
First impressions of Tikal: My first impression of Tikal was the noontime stillness and the second was Julio Iglesias’s fly in-fly out performance in the Plaza Mayor. To this day I still wonder if I was dreaming. But no, there’s a link here to the film clip.

https://www.tiktok.com/@despertandotusrecuerdosg/video/7245056698572983558

Tikal and the effects of the 1976 earthquake: Tikal’s pyramids were undamaged. This fact brought me to wonder how many serious earthquakes these monumental stone temples had withstood over thousands of years.

Australians abroad: Over the years I’ve met numerous travellers from Australian and New Zealand in different parts of the world, noting that many stay away from home for a long time. Some Antipodeans like myself, leave home for a specific purpose as well as for travel. As an undiagnosed culture junkie, for me it was the attraction of living in another culture whilst at the same time acquiring a qualification that wasn’t available in Australia at that time.

French toast: Whenever I hear the words ‘French toast’, I’m transported back to the Tikal campground, surrounded by jungle and a cacophony of bird calls coming from the tree canopy above our heads whilst enjoying the warm, crunchy sweetness.

FACTS:
Maya glyphs: Maya writing used logograms accompanied with a set of syllabic glyphs, somewhat similar in function to modern Japanese writing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_script

Harvard University’s Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology: In the nineteen seventies, the Peabody Museum scholars focussed on deciphering Mayan glyphs. It was a painstakingly slow process.

https://www.historymuseum.ca/cmc/exhibitions/civil/maya/mmc04eng.html#

Tikal: Even though Tikal may have been settled around 600 BCE most of the site’s towering temples were built during the Maya Classic period from 250 to 900 AD, when the Maya produced unique structures both large and small, richly decorated with extraordinary sculptural stonework.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tikal

Tikal’s climate: Tikal is warmer and wetter than Guatemala City. The city is at 1500 metres above sea level, whereas Tikal is 120 metres above sea level with two metres of rain annually. Humidity is high.

Tikal excavations: The University of Pennsylvania excavations began at Tikal in 1957. Conducted by the University’s Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, it was led by Aubrey Trik and George Guttemin.

Tikal’s Temple 1—Temple of the Giant Jaguar—is fifty-seven meters high and is the largest Mayan pyramid excavated at Tikal to date.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YaUIR2QIx54

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeR0sWZ0-4g

Tikal movie: a silent movie of Peabody Museum’s 1957 expedition to Tikal.

https://www.penn.museum/collections/videos/video/847

The Maya civilisation: 1800BCE to 1500AD

Evolution of Maya culture
Period	Date range
Olmec	1200–1000 B.C.E.
Early Preclassic Maya	1800–900 B.C.E.
Middle Preclassic Maya	900–300 B.C.E.
Late Preclassic Maya	300 B.C.E. – A.D. 250
Early Classic Maya	A.D. 250–600
Late Classic Maya	A.D. 600–900
Post Classic Maya	A.D. 900–1500
Colonial period	A.D. 1500–1800
Independent Mexico	A.D. 1821 to the present

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_civilization

Julio Iglesias: Spanish singer who has sold eighty million albums worldwide.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julio_Iglesias

Guatemalan earthquake: The earthquake hit at just after 3 am on 4^thof February 1976. 25,000 Guatemalans were killed and thousands more were injured. After the earthquake struck, the Guatemala City airstrip was quickly repaired to take the stream of aircraft that were either landing or taking off every three minutes, 24/7 for weeks after the event. Pallets were swiftly unloaded containing food, water, medicine, clothing, blankets and much more for distribution to survivors who’d lost everything. I was impressed by the speed with which traumatised Guatemalans mobilised to help themselves and each other, utilising the aid provided by neighbouring countries, often referred to as banana republics; the inference being that Latin American countries possess zilch organizational ability.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1976_Guatemala_earthquake

Academic wash-up: I received credit towards my degree for the work I did in Guatemala, even though our field trip was cut short by the earthquake and its aftermath.

My Transcript for the Winter Quarter of 1976 reads:

Instituto Allende Program in Guatemala:

Project: Guest Lecturer Maya Series
Archaeology
Advanced Drawing

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 43: Guatemala, here I come!

I’d been studying in Mexico for almost two years. During that time, I’d completed an undergraduate degree in Fine Arts, and now I had what I came for, I wondered what I’d do next? The answer came with another scholarship, this time to do a Masters at the Instituto.

To offset the scholarship, I was asked to assist in the Soft Leather class for the Summer Quarter. In addition, I worked on a couple of Independent Projects—one in Soft Leather and the other in Weaving. To be honest, I have no recollection of either but I can guarantee both would’ve been garment related, because I was selling the one-off originals I designed and made to keep my head above water.

Around this time, my relationship with Carlos Contreras was losing its lustre. The relationship was made more difficult because I didn’t have a telephone. Each Friday morning, I used the public phone at the Instituto to confirm his plans for the weekend. He worked as a photographer with the publishing house that produced Mexico’s most popular women’s magazine. One Friday morning we had a relationship-shattering conversation. He began by crowing about his upcoming fashion photoshoot in Paris, all expenses paid. I saw red, arced up and spat the dummy, as I was struggling to find the rent for our love nest. A couple of weeks later, I decided to pack up and move out.

Even though my relationship with my mother had improved marginally, I was reluctant to return to her house if there was an alternative, keen to side-step the interpersonal drama, and concentrate on my studies. Fellow student Jo-Anne came to the rescue.

She was a new arrival. Her rich Mexican lover had offered her the opportunity to study at the Instituto and set her up in a ‘casa chica’. She’d been married to another rich Mexican who died suddenly. His family made it clear that if she made a claim on his estate, they would have her killed. This was easily done in Mexico. With little notice, she was forced to leave their upmarket apartment in down town Mexico City with nothing. Destitute, but not wanting to return to the United States, a friend introduced her to El Señor, who threw her a lifeline. He came to San Miguel every Friday bearing gifts, to have sex and eat lunch. Jo-Anne kindly offered me her spare room on the proviso I was not around on Fridays.

One of El Señor’s particularly useful gifts was an industrial sewing machine, which was fabulous for sewing leather. I’d brought with me a stylish ‘hippiesque’, long-sleeved cream chamois leather top with wooden bead decoration. As chamois was plentiful and cheap in Mexico, Jo-Anne and I decided to make facsimiles to sell. Next, we designed a trendy, fully lined soft leather backpack to add to our range. The demand for both products was huge and we had trouble keeping up.

In between sewing leather and avoiding El Señor’s weekly visit, my full-time study continued, as I was determined to keep my eye on the prize by completing the course-work for my degree.

According to my transcript for the Autumn Quarter of 1975, I continued to assist in the Soft Leather class as well as doing Independent Projects in both Soft Leather and Weaving. And lastly, to spice things up a bit, Landscape Painting with well-known American artist and educator Fred Samuelson.

Autumn Quarter: Independent project: Soft Leather wall-hanging made of soft leather scraps
Image: Grainger family photographs

Around this time, I heard talk of a three-month field trip to Guatemala for Instituto students, the brainchild of Don Patterson, a faculty member. The idea came out of a conversation he had with Nicholas Hellmuth, Director of the Foundation for Latin American Anthropological Research based in Guatemala City. Hellmuth knew that Harvard University’s Peabody Museum was having difficulty deciphering the hundreds of semi-pictorial Mayan glyphs that appeared at all the excavated Mayan sites in southern Mexico, Belize, Honduras, El Salvador and Guatemala.

So, Patterson hatched a plan to take a group of artists to an accessible site to draw every stick, leaf, branch, bark, root, nut and flower of every tree and plant from every angle in the hope that clues from nature could help speed up the decipherment process. I expressed interest and was accepted to join the team because of my commercial art training.

In addition to the excitement generated in preparing for the Guatemala trip, I received a marriage proposal from Jaime, a balding Accountancy graduate of the University of Guanajuato. I’d attended his graduation some months earlier. It was a rowdy, drunken affair at which my former housemate, Elsa, was found standing on our table partway through the speeches loudly chanting, “Cabron, cabron, cabron!” (translation: ‘asshole’) instead of, “Pelon, pelon, pelon!” (translation: ‘bald’). Her outburst brought the house down.

Jaime’s family home was the only one in San Miguel where I felt free to come and go at will. Mostly, the townsfolk were quite guarded and keen to protect their privacy, as they felt overrun by the increasing number of permanent residents and students arriving from the other side of the Rio Grande. I assume the family welcomed me because I was Australian. I particularly liked his mother and his English-speaking sister, but not enough to accept his invitation to join the family.

Map of Central America showing Mexico City, Guatemala City and Tikal, due north of Guatemala City
Image: World Biking

In late December, a few weeks before the start of the Winter Quarter, twelve of us took a bus to Mexico City followed by a flight to Guatemala City. The adventure had begun.

We planned to find a suitable house to rent, set it up quickly and begin work with the Foundation for Latin American Anthropological Research.

We found a house big enough for eight students; team leader Patterson, his wife, their baby daughter and their maid. After a number of trips to the market, the house was fitted out with the basics for our three-month stay.

Before leaving Mexico, I’d met the Guatemalan Consul General to Mexico, when I visited the Consulate for a visa. He was most interested in our project and, as it happened, would be in Guatemala City around the time we’d be there. I stayed in touch with him, thinking it would be handy to know a friendly diplomat if for some reason we needed help in Guatemala.

One day he arrived at the house unannounced and to my surprise invited me to join him as his guest for a weekend in Antigua Guatemala. What a great opportunity! Antigua is a world-famous colonial town an hour by road from the city. In addition to loads of historical charm, the town had jewellery stores selling polished jadeite, a green stone mined locally and a favourite of the Maya for 1800 years.

Exquisitely crafted Maya jadeite Funerary mask, earrings, necklace and pectoral ornament from the Classic period 250-990 AD
Image: Wikipedia

Whilst there, we also explored a market selling garments woven by the women, using a backstrap loom. This was my first exposure to the richness and diversity of Guatemalan textiles and the first and only time a woman has sold me the handwoven shirt off her back.

Antigua Guatemala open-air market selling exquisite hand woven and embroidered garments
Image: The Partying Traveller

When I returned to the city, I was told that Tikal, the classic Maya site in the Peten, had been selected for our documentation project because the facilities there were reasonably good. We were all very excited.

Before we headed out to Tikal, Hellmuth provided us with a detailed briefing on the Maya based on recent excavations at El Ceibal, a site not far from Tikal. There, the excavators had devised a completely new approach to archaeological practice. They used a series of supported planks suspended above a burial site for the excavators to lie on, thereby removing the risk of crushing artefacts in the layers below.

Scaffold platform excavation technique similar to the one used in
confined space of the El Ceibal burial in the early 1970s
Image: source unknown

To generate income for the Foundation, Hellmuth used the building’s small theatrette five nights a week for a one-hour lecture for tourists on the Maya. The lecture was supported by Hellmuth’s slides of the El Ceibal excavation.

But our departure to Tikal was delayed because, out of the blue, Hellmuth was summoned to the United States and in his absence, a replacement presenter for the lectures was required. The obvious person for the job was our leader so I was most surprised to be asked to do the gig instead. I accepted the challenge, and learnt later that my Australian accent swung the deal. In preparation, I attended every one of Hellmuth’s lectures before he left, determined to extract as many factual details for each of his slides as my brain would hold. My confidence steadied in the knowledge that Patterson would back me up if I was asked a curly question I couldn’t answer.

The area of Central America covered by the Maya civilization in pink
Image: Organizacion Mundo Maya

Our impatience intensified as we marked off the days until Hellmuth’s return. We were busting to get out to Tikal to see the site for ourselves and start drawing. Little did we know what nature held in store for us.

Great Jaguar temple in the Plaza Mayor at Tikal, Peten, Guatemala
Image: Wikipedia

ON REFLECTION:
The Instituto group: We had fun setting up our temporary base camp in Guatemala City. Finding and furnishing the rental house was straightforward and before long we’d settled in.

We each had a straw mattress on the floor with a sleeping bag on top. I shared a ground-floor room with a young woman I didn’t know. As we exchanged our life stories, she explained that she financed her studies by working as a porn actor. I remember being shocked by her revelation, so I quickly changed the subject.

Cakes in Guatemala City: Occasionally we explored the city and to our delight found an Austrian cake shop on the bus route to Hellmuth’s office. Sometimes we’d hop off to feast our eyes on the cabinets filled with rows and rows of the most delicious cakes and pastries. Art to eat!

Display cabinet of Austrian cakes similar to the ones in
Guatemala City
Image: Bakefood Bakery

Maya lectures for the Foundation: In hindsight, I must have been crazy to take on a public speaking role in a specialist subject area I knew little about. And I assume I was spurred on by the self-confidence of youth and the knowledge that if I got into trouble, Patterson was there to back me up.

FACTS:
Casa Chica: the literal English translation is ‘little house’ but in Latin America, the expression refers to a smaller house for a wealthy man’s mistress. Latin American men, who can afford to maintain a second household have considerable status.

Guatemala: Guatemala is bordered by Mexico, Belize, Honduras, El Salvador, and the Caribbean and Pacific Oceans. In 1975 the population of Guatemala was 6 million. By 2024 the population had increased to 18 million. Guatemala is the most populous country for its size in Central America.

The Maya civilisation: Spanned over 3,000 years between 1800 BCE and 1500 AD. The civilisation covered southern Mexico, all of Guatemala and Belize plus the northern tips of both El Salvador and Honduras.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guatemala

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_civilization

Evolution of Maya culture
Period	Date range
Olmec	1200–1000 B.C.E.
Early Preclassic Maya	1800–900 B.C.E.
Middle Preclassic Maya	900–300 B.C.E.
Late Preclassic Maya	300 B.C.E. – A.D. 250
Early Classic Maya	A.D. 250–600
Late Classic Maya	A.D. 600–900
Post Classic Maya	A.D. 900–1500
Colonial period	A.D. 1500–1800
Independent Mexico	A.D. 1821 to the present

Foundation for Latin American Anthropological Research: was founded by Nicholas Hellmuth in 1969 and their work continues to this day.

https://flaar-mesoamerica.org/xt_volanteers/dr-nicholas-hellmuth/

El Ceibal: The Peabody Museum has been associated with El Ceibal since 1895, when Teoberto Maler explored it for the first time on behalf of the Museum. Another expedition was sent in 1905 after which interest in the site waned. Interest was renewed in the 1960s, with yearly expeditions from 1961 through 1964. In the intensive excavations carried out between 1964 and 1968, 45 burials were uncovered.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seibal

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 42: High culture

I pushed on with my undergraduate studies at the Instituto Allende.

For the Winter Quarter of 1975, I carried a full study load. My transcript lists my subjects as: Project: Aesthetics; Psychology; Mexican Art 1; Mexican History – Pre-conquest. I was secretly pleased to apply my graphic design training to all my assignments, in the hope that refined presentation would attract better grades.

On weekends, I occasionally took the bus into Mexico City to spend time with my boyfriend Carlos Contreras. But mostly he came to San Miguel to enjoy ‘la fantasia de Walt Disney’; his scornful, oft-repeated description of the township as a fantasy created by the mix of authentic colonial buildings, cobblestone streets, the Mexican inhabitants as well as many transplanted foreigners, like me.

El jardin in the centre of the township of San Miguel de Allende with the magnificent
Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel in the background
Image: forbes.com

San Miguel’s central meeting place was the beautifully-kept jardin, surrounded by impressive buildings. On the northern side stood the spectacularly ornate neo-gothic Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel, the Archangel Michael’s church. The colonnaded buildings on the other three sides contained retail outlets, the bank and the police station. From the centre of town, side streets radiated out, flanked by substantial adobe buildings for both commercial and residential use.

Carlos would often arrive into San Miguel late on Friday night. Ever resourceful, he’d climb the metal security railings to reach the second-floor window of our love nest and tap loudly on the window to wake me—a Mexican version of Romeo and Juliet. We’d catch up and then snuggle down to sleep before beginning a hectic round of weekend activities that could include a fiesta, or an exhibition opening, or a dinner party, or a nightclub, or a bullfight.

As Carlos was garrulous and outgoing, he would occasionally arrive with friends in tow. I remember one fellow, Argentine lawyer Cesar Campion, who’d managed to escape the military dictatorship that was raging in Argentina at that time. Carlos met him somewhere in Mexico City. Cesar’s story was a typical Latin American one, with politics at its core. In fear for his life, he’d fled Buenos Aires leaving his wife and daughter behind. With little warning he found himself 7,000 kilometres from home, traumatised and desperately in need of work. I imagine Carlos’s family network helped to find him a job, as the Contreras clan was very well connected.

Monday to Friday it was full steam ahead with my studies at the Instituto. For my last Quarter before graduating, I once again carried a full load: Natural Fibres and Dyes; Mexican Art – Modern; Psychology; Mexican History Pre-Conquest and an Art History Project.

Fast forward to the end of the Quarter. With all my assignments submitted and marked I now had what I’d come from Australia to get—a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. In addition, I also knew what my immediate future held. I’d been offered a place in the Instituto’s Master’s program with yet another full scholarship and naturally, I grabbed it with both hands.

But I needed a break between the completion of one degree and the beginning of the next, so I went to Mexico City for a dose of high culture and high jinks with Carlos.

National Museum of Anthropology Mexico City
Image: Wikipedia

Our first port of call was the National Museum of Anthropology at the top end of the Paseo de la Reforma in Chapultepec Park. I’d visited once before to explore the impressive salons jam-packed with artefacts from each of the numerous Mesoamerican civilizations that flourished in Central America between 2000 and 300 BCE. The Olmec, Teotihuacan, the Maya, the Zapotecs, the Toltecs, and the Mexica / Aztec. I was thrilled to be re-visiting the collection. Little did I know that in a year or so, I’d be returning regularly to attend night classes in archaeology with my work colleagues from the Catedral Metropolitana, who were studying there.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Salon within the Museum of Anthropology Mexico City
Image: Flickr

Our second port of call was the Palacio de Bellas Artes, to watch a matinee performance of the Ballet Folklórico de México.

Palacio de Bellas Artes Mexico City—trees from the Alameda Park visible on the left
Image: istock

We arrived a little early so, to fill in time, Carlos guided me across eight lanes of traffic to the Alameda Central Park to see his great grandfather Jesus F. Contreras’s sculpture titled Malgre tout— translation, despite everything. It was of a naked young woman lying face down chained to a rock. I didn’t fully grasp the meaning of the piece at the time but nonetheless it was an unnerving experience. The figure was so exposed in amongst the greenery that I had to resist the urge to take off my jacket to cover her nakedness.

Malgre-tout—Despite everything— by sculptor Jesus F Contreras in Alameda Park Mexico City
Image: Wikimedia

We then headed back to the theatre for the performance. As is often the case, it’s difficult to find words to describe a sudden and unexpected ‘bolt from the blue’ experience like this one, but I’ll give it a go.

A Ballet Folklorico de Mexico performance at Bellas Artes Mexico City
Image: Tijuananoticias.info

From the moment the curtain went up, I was transported to another world. I was totally entranced by the merging of colour, music and movement as the dancers portrayed a cross-section of traditional Mexican dances, adapted for the stage and performed to a packed house of mostly tourists.

Ballet Folklorico de Mexico revolution dance
Image: Agencia Enfoque

After it was over, I floated out of the theatre aware that something had shifted. It was on that day I realised I’d fallen in love with Mexico and its people. The post-performance euphoria remained with me for some weeks after I returned to San Miguel to begin the course work for my Master’s degree.

ON REFLECTION:
Spring Quarter of 1975: For Mexican Art—Modern I researched Costa Rican-born Mexican sculptor and painter, Francisco Zúñiga. Surprisingly, some five decades on, I still have my assignment with my delicate charcoal drawings of his pear-shaped figures and supporting text, albeit a little battered.

Re-reading it, I’m surprised by the depth of understanding my twenty-something self brought to Zúñiga’s three-dimensional work.

Francisco Zúñiga (Costa Rican/Mexican 1912-1998) Grupo de cuatro mujeres de pie signed, dated and numbered 'ZUÑIGA,
1972, II/V' (on the base) bronze with green patina and wooden base. 63.5 x 57.8 x 44.1 cm including base. Executed in 1972.
Edition two of five.
Image: Artnet

Francisco Zúñiga:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_Z%C3%BA%C3%B1iga

The Ballet Folklórico de México: Before the matinee, my exposure to performance culture had been somewhat limited. My parents, who considered themselves cultured, occasionally went to the theatre, but it was my father who, after he left us, had the resources to remain involved in Sydney’s arts scene. When I was ten, as a special treat, he took me to see the Australian production of My Fair Lady. I was spellbound from the moment the curtain rose particularly with the Ascot Races scene—when the stage was filled with the cast dressed in dramatic black and white costumes. This scene left a lasting visual impression.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballet_Folkl%C3%B3rico_de_M%C3%A9xico

My mother and I left Sydney for New Guinea in 1960, a couple of years after my family fell apart. At that time Sydneysiders considered their city to be the cultural capital of Australia by dint of a larger population, numerous performance spaces and a vibrant collective of performers. But in New Guinea it was very different. There was no performance culture as we knew it, other than the occasional amateur production written and staged by expatriates to amuse themselves and those of us within cooee. But I was able to make up for what I’d missed by attending as many Ballet Folklórico performances as I could squeeze into the three years I lived in Mexico and later, as well.

Whilst completely entranced by the performance from the get go, I was aware that the dancers embodied the enthusiasm and exuberance of Latin America that was in sharp contrast to the buttoned-up Anglo culture I came from. Before long, I realised that I too embodied these Latin qualities. I felt I’d found my tribe.

Malgre tout: I was accustomed to nakedness at art school and in my private life, but always in an enclosed space. What unnerved me about Malgre tout figure was that she was shackled and exposed to the elements. More recently I’ve come to see her as a symbol of the Mexican nation. In the last 600 years the Mexicans have been invaded and enslaved by the Spanish, then the French and since, have become economic prisoners of their northern neighbours.

Since becoming aware of Malgre tout, I realise how rare it is to see a reclining male body depicted in art. A man’s achievements are usually celebrated with the subject standing tall and proud, surrounded by the trappings of power and success. On the other hand, women are often pictured reclining, mostly in various stages of undress, their images often gracing spaces frequented by men.

FACTS:
La Parroquia de Arcangel Miguel: was designed by Zeferino Gutiérrez. Built in 1880—it’s said the church’s façade is based on postcards he’d seen of European cathedrals.

Lawyer Cesar Campion: Carlos’s friend escaped Argentina after the coup d’état when death squads hunted down political dissidents and anyone associated with socialism or left-wing Peronism. Mexico has always had an open door to any Latin Americans in need of asylum.

Jesus Fructuoso Contreras Chavez: His piece Malgre tout is discussed in detail by Dr Vincente Quirarte in this video made in 2017.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3wY0XH5R0I (8min)

Jesus F. Contreras: Was born in Aguascalientes. Carlos, his eldest great grandson has taken an active interest in honouring his great grandfather’s creative contribution in the city of his birth. He is remembered for a series of sculptural panels for the Mexican Pavilion of the Exposition Universalle held in Paris in 1889.

Five of the panels are now on display in the Patio de Jesus F. Contreras, constructed in 2016, along with a mausoleum and archival vault. Lasting memorials in perpetuity to the gifted sculptor’s life and work.

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Not a Still Life | Portrait of an Artist

Chapter 41: A seven-day dash

The wild ride with Carlos Contreras continued well into 1975. Weekends were spent either in San Miguel de Allende, where I was studying full-time, or in Mexico City where Carlos lived with his family. The capital city offered culture by the barrow load. For example, collections of high art spanning centuries, contemporary art galleries, a scattering of world-famous murals, an enormously rich archaeological heritage, live theatre and dance. Whereas, by contrast, provincial centres like San Miguel offered wealthy Mexicans an opportunity to reconnect with their quaint colonial past.

But I was busting to see more of Mexico, other than the view from a bus window every six months, when I travelled north to Texas to renew my tourist visa. Instead, was keen to travel south.

With the Instituto holidays approaching, Carlos and I hatched a plan to spend seven days as tourists, driving around southern Mexico in his VW Beetle. We were both short of money so the ever-resourceful Carlos, succeeded in gathering the camping basics from his large extended family: a tent, a pressure lamp, a couple of blow-up mattresses and sleeping bags. So we set off, with the camping gear neatly stacked on the back seat of the car.

Map showing our route in red from Mexico City to Veracruz to Oaxaca to Salina Cruz on the Pacific coast and back to Mexico City
Image: sil.org

As we climbed out of the grey pollution that shrouded Mexico City, we were pulled over by a policeman on a motorcycle. Carlos got out to be told that the back seat of a car was for passengers not things. For this breach we were ordered to pay an on-the-spot fine of 1,000 pesos, the equivalent of $80 US then. The alternative was to go back to the police station and argue the case. As it was, we were late getting out of the city, so Carlos decided to pay up and shut up. I was livid, and, as I had the cash, I paid the fine. On the road again, I was spitting chips for some kilometres before finally blurting out, “There’s no way I can live in this country where corruption is the accepted way of life!”

My good humour gradually returned as we drove west to Veracruz where, for the very first time I dipped my toes into the cooling waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Veracruz on the Gulf of Mexico
Image: yelp.com

The highlights of our trip were numerous as it was always a laugh a minute with Carlos. Here, I’ve described the most memorable of them.

From Veracruz we drove south into the state of Oaxaca. High on my list of archaeological sites to visit was Monte Alban located not far south of Oaxaca City. It was a partly excavated ceremonial complex constructed in 500 BCE by the Zapotecs.

Monte Alban, Oaxaca—Zapotec ceremonial site 500 BCE
Image: Emaze

To get there, we drove up a steep winding, mostly single-lane road, cut into the side of the mountain with a sheer drop down into the valley below. At the summit we were met by some kids, likely descendants of the original inhabitants, selling small pre-Columbian clay figurines. We assumed the kids had dug them up from a grave somewhere on the site.

It was late afternoon so we hurried off to take as many photographs at possible before the light failed. Carlos with his super fancy camera and me with my mother’s basic Kodak. When we returned to the car, the kids were waiting for us, hoping for a sale.

Authentic Pre-Columbian clay funerary figurines
Image: Heritage Auctions HA.com

It was getting dark, so we offered the kids a lift down the hill. They eagerly accepted and quickly clambered in the back, perching themselves on top of the camping gear. As we began our slow descent, Carlos took the opportunity to interrogate the kids.

He asked, “Where did you get those figurines?”

Quick as a flash came the chorus, “Oh, our mother made them!”

In a heartbeat we realised the implications of what had just been said. After which we laughed so hard that we risked driving off the edge of the narrow road. The children’s honesty was certainly beguiling and very amusing!

Our next stop was Oaxaca City.

The picturesque main square of Oaxaca City with its colonial colonnades and established trees
Image: zonaturistica.com

Where possible we ate at the town markets where the food was fabulous, fresh and cheap. To avoid Moctezuma’s revenge, the jargon for diarrhoea, I was very careful to only eat well-cooked food.

Oaxaca markets selling delicious freshly cooked food served on corn leaves
Image: culinarybackstreets.com

After Oaxaca, we drove on to Salina Cruz, a small town on the Pacific Coast, having crossed the country from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean in a couple of days. On our arrival we treated ourselves to a sumptuous feast of huge fresh oysters after which I stood with my feet in the shallow water of the Pacific wistfully gazing westward across the flat navy-coloured sea. I was somewhat taken aback to find myself involuntarily lifting my arm to wave pathetically in the direction of my homeland, some 13,000 kilometres beyond the curvature of the earth.

We walked back to the car as the sun was setting. As we unpacked, I noticed a line of fluid running down the passenger-side front wheel. I felt a sharp involuntary intake of breath and stood rooted to the spot. Was it brake fluid? If so, we were a long way from home and very short of cash to fix it. Desperate to identify the liquid, I stepped closer and gingerly dipped my finger into it and had a sniff. It was dog pee! We breathed a huge sigh of relief before doubling over with laughter.

We’d been on the road for six days and the time had come to turn around and head back to Mexico City for Carlos to return to work and for me to return to the Instituto. With only enough money remaining for one last tank of fuel and my bus fare to San Miguel, we arrived at the Contreras house late in the evening. His parents were surprised to see me and even more surprised when Carlos boldly announced that I was to stay overnight in his sister’s bedroom, as she was away. The Señor and Señora could barely conceal their disbelief because Carlos’s request was totally outrageous. By inviting me to stay, he was making a mockery of the rigid Mexican upper-class conventions. When the dust had settled, I was shown to his sister’s bedroom and immediately locked the door; not knowing what risky tricks Carlos would get up to during the night. As it was, the only intrusion was a couple of pathetic notes pushed under the bedroom door. I read them and had a chuckle before dropping off to sleep. Next morning, I was farewelled by the family before taking the early morning bus back to San Miguel. The four-hour bus ride gave me plenty of time to begin reflecting upon our experiences, both amusing and weird, during our seven-day dash around southern Mexico.

The next time Carlos came to San Miguel he brought with him all our developed photographs. It took us some time to go through them all, after which he said, “Your photographs are better than mine.” High praise indeed from a professional photographer. Which just goes to show that a three-year art training with considerable emphasis on ‘composition’, has value. Or maybe he was just being kind?

ON REFLECTION:
Barro Negro pottery: From the numerous pieces we brought back from Oaxaca, we invited Carlos’ parents to choose a couple of pieces to keep.

Fast forward to 1990 when I visited Carlos Senior on my way back from South America. I noticed he’d placed one of the Oaxaca pieces on the coffee table. I was delighted. Firstly, that at least one piece had survived, and secondly to note that the shape of the vessel remained as visually satisfying as it was when I bought it some 15 years earlier. Just goes to show that good design is timeless. And I wonder where that pot is now?

Carlos Contreras de Oteyza: of all my ‘significant other’ partnerships, it is with Carlos that I share most artistically, because we both possess a heightened awareness of both aesthetics and beauty. There was no need to speak. I could just point and Carlos would nod in agreement. And vice versa. A cluster of clouds, a tree, a building, a sunset. We were acutely aware of the beauty that surrounded us and revelled in sharing it with each other.

Overnighting: in 1974, Mexican families, like most families in predominantly Roman Catholic Latin America, were anxious to be seen as living a moral life, thereby avoiding censure. For the Contreras family to have their son’s girlfriend sleeping in their house overnight in full view of the house staff, was beyond the pale because staff gossip. Of course, Carlos thought it was hilarious.

FACTS:
Monte Alban: The civilization that thrived at Monte Alban is thought to have collapsed with the loss of its most important trading partner, Teotihuacan. Religious worship at Monte Alban was based on ancestor worship and a pantheon of gods.

Mexico: In 1974 the population of Mexico was 60 million. Fifty years on, the population had more than doubled to 130 million.

Barro negro pot gallery in Oaxaca
Image: Pinterest

A selection of Barrio negro burnished ceramic forms from Oaxaca
Images: L to R: goantiques.com; etsy.com; and Wee Lay Laq Ceramics