Ask a handful of Oaxacan artists why so much art comes from such an
out-of-the-way and poor place, and a common answer emerges: because
Oaxacans are surrounded by beauty, because the tradition of craft
in their villages goes back hundreds of years, because
pre-Columbian cultures and their myths are alive in Oaxaca as they
are nowhere else in
Mexico. And then there's the influence and
legacy of Tamayo, Morales, and
Toledo, says Felix Angel, who
curated an exhibit of Oaxacan art at the Inter-American Development
Bank in Washington, D.C. last fall. "The efforts and success of
these three have inspired others to become artists as well," he
says.
Oaxaca attracts visitors for many of the same reasons it
spawns art: beauty, the tradition of fine handicrafts, the mix of
Mexican, Spanish, and native cultures. In mountain villages, 14
native languages are still spoken every day, and walking downtown
Oaxaca are descendants of Zapotec, Mixe, and Mixtec natives who
built the ancient cities of Monte Albán and Mitla nearby.
Historical buildings and churches are restored to former splendor,
and museums and festivals celebrate Oaxaca's ancient cultures and
modern artists. When it's mealtime, tables fill with
food as
crea-tive and complex as many of the gallery canvases. The state
may be poor economically, but it is rich in expression.
From the time the morning sun slips free of the surrounding
mountains until it slides behind them again, it offers Oaxaca a
more benevolent, purer light than it produces for the rest of the
world. Light here renders colors true, edges sharp, patterns
distinct. It is so clear not even air seems to filter its path from
the sky.
This light hits cerulean stucco walls, orange doors, shock-pink
chairs, and the colors vibrate, blue on yellow, green on red. It is
color theory practiced block upon block, so that eventually it
seems houses should always glow purple, fuchsia, and ochre. Then
the houses step back to give preference to the zócalo, but the
colors remain: balloons, tablecloths, fluttering pennants, blankets
on the backs and arms of peddlers. It is as if the city resides in
a box of crayons.