Death Laughs at Life

Is there life after death? Reincarnation? Judgment, heaven, hell, angels, demons? Or only silence and oblivion? Whatever the answer, it’s astonishing from this side that we call “reality.”

Now, in this country [Mexico]—I’m not even sure it can still be catalogued as such—it remains a centuries-old tradition, older than the Spanish conquest, to venerate death and all the ways it manifests. A ritual even more important than life itself.

After the conquest, blood and fire turned into an amalgam that still burns through the veins of its people. Tragedy, pain, and suffering were transmuted into festivities to celebrate those beloved ones gone, but religiously, respectfully, ceremoniously.

La Catrina, Jose Guadalupe Posada, 1912, engraving

In the last two decades, the tradition of Halloween [October 31st] and the Día de Muertos [October 31st to November 2nd] has become a confused hybrid within Mexican culture. Today, it’s a dull and nonsensical mixture. If you dare to ask any average Mexican about the origins and essence of this tradition, most won’t be able to articulate even three words about it. I’m very sorry for my fellow countrymen, but that’s a fact.

I’m not an expert in Mexico’s history—perhaps not even in my own—but I grew up in a family that instilled in me the real concept and meaning of the Día de Muertos. And by the way, the correct translation would be “Day of Dead,” not “Day of the Dead.”

You see, this eye has had our omnipotent Lady Death as its eternal bride—and that statement transcends the euphemism. Since I was a child, I’ve been mesmerized by José Guadalupe Posada’s engravings, and today I bring to you an image that semiotically synthesizes that tradition, long before its decomposition: La Catrina. I won’t go into the deep foundations of my most important celebration of the year here. Anyhow, I’ll claim one of my mottoes: I love art more than life!

Death Laughs at Life