Day 4, in which we visit many things that Rudolfo Morelos loved

Day 4 (which was actu­al­ly yes­ter­day) we went to Ocot­lan. Birth­place of the painter Rudol­fo Morelos.

But before we got out of town I saw this set of signs and thought you all need­ed to see them as well.

Ocot­lan is south of the city of Oax­a­ca. The biggest build­ing in town is the church. Unlike many colo­nial era church­es in Mex­i­co, the church in Ocot­lan has been restored to the way it looked in the 1880s. Much lat­er than the usu­al 16^th cen­tu­ry. A lot of build­ings in Ocot­lan use the same blue, white, ocher, and black col­or scheme.

Inside the church is white, gold, and black. It’s much brighter than many of the church­es. This is the main chancel.

While we were in the church I could hear a bird singing. It was a tough to locate the source. I was sure it was in the church but could­n’t find it until I real­ized that there the upper por­tion of the wall between the main chan­cel on the rosary chapel was open. I found this lit­tle guy perched on an angel’s wing.

The chapel has a col­lec­tion of obscure saints in the spaces between the vaults.

This is a close up of one of the geo­met­ric designs that lines the chapel.

it would­n’t be a church if there was­n’t a shrine to El Nino.

Next to the church is the clois­ter. Which before it was turned into a muse­um for some of the More­los col­lec­tion was the local jail. This is what you would have seen if you were spend­ing your days in the jail­house courtyard.

Among the pieces in the muse­um are these exam­ples of sculp­ture by the Jose­fi­na Aguilar and her family.

This dev­il sits jaun­ti­ly on the dis­play case.

One of Jose­fi­na’s sis­ters makes these hys­ter­i­cal hook­ers. This one is wear­ing m0re clothes than most.

This is the whole his­to­ry of the world. Or at least the part that we keep repeating.

The muse­um also con­tains a num­ber of More­los’ paint­ings but the rooms are too dim to see them decent­ly, let alone pho­to­graph the installation.

A cou­ple of blocks from the church — across the Zoco­lo — is Rudol­fo More­los’ house. This is the view of the gar­dens at the cnter of the house.

This walk­way leads from the stairs across the top of the porch to More­los’ studio.

I get stu­dio envy every time I come up here. This long sky-lit room now hous­es some of his lithographs.

Dial­o­go espera.

The house is full of lit­tle sur­pris­es. You can only see this fel­low if you turn around and look back­wards from the stu­dio door.

There were birds singing in More­los’ house.

Anoth­er fan­tas­ti­cal beast.

A lit­tle fur­ther down the street we went to the home of Jose­fi­na Aguilar. She demon­strat­ed how she builds her sculptures.

She has the most amaz­ing hands. Most of her work is done by feel.

It took her a lit­tle over 20 min­utes to cre­ate this sculp­ture of a mar­ket women car­ry­ing calla lilies and marigolds — the tra­di­tion­al day of the dead flow­ers. I don’t know how the lit­tle dog fig­ures into it.

Jose­fi­na’s son Demitrio is also a tal­ent­ed painter. I bought this gem from him.

ObMo­to. This mechan­ic’s shop was right next door to the Aguilar’s.

Jim found this inside. But there was no-one around to ask about it.

Our last stop for the day was St. Mar­tin Tilca­jete. We went to see two fam­i­lies of wood carvers.

Here are two masks carved by Isado­ra Cruz, one of the old men of wood carv­ing in the valley.

Crafts in Oax­a­ca are fam­i­ly busi­ness­es. This is Isado­ra’s daugh­ter Rosa hold­ing a half fin­ished Dia de Muer­tos mask.

There’s not a lot of straight tim­ber left in the valley.

Leav­ing town we had to give way for this gen­tle­man and his field workers.