Tree of Life (Árbol de la vida)
Museo de Arte Popular is an elegant Art Deco building that displays Mexican handicrafts and folk art. Its gorgeous tapestries and clothing, religious and fantastical paintings, pottery, sculptures, and, of course, Dia de los Muerto paper mâché figures keep Mexico’s rich and beautiful history alive.
One of the most fascinating collections is the Tree of Life exhibition. These sculptures date back to Mesoamerica before the Spanish conquest. The early pieces represent familial life and history, but the Teotihuacan influence, with its polytheistic beliefs, brought religious themes to the art.
After the Spanish conquest, friars destroyed the sculptures depicting the old gods. Some say they hired artists to create candelabras like the Tree of Life ceramics, and eventually, sculptors fashioned Trees incorporating saints and Christian iconography.
This is a remarkable theme in Mexican spiritualism—the syncretic blending of Mesoamerican religious tradition with European Catholicism, poignantly emblematic in folk art.
Many of the Trees depict the Christian origin story of the Garden of Eden. A serpent divides Adam and Eve, and the Archangel Gabriel anchors the base, casting out the fallen humans.
However, early beliefs and mythology persist in the art. Mermaids and surreal beings, coyotes, serpents, eagles, and jaguars from Mesoamerican cosmology, and images conjured from dreamscapes are represented not only in the Trees but in other works in the collection, including the depictions of the dead.
A quick word about Mexico’s perception of death: it isn’t one of fear and finality. The dead are celebrated with joy and humor. The dynamic holidays, offerings, and altars for those who have passed honor their lives and declare that humans are worthy of remembrance—an incredible message to impress into one’s psyche.
Video installations at Museo de Arte Popular display ancient ceremonies like the peyote ritual. Indigenous people used peyote for spiritual guidance, healing, and connection with the divine. The Spanish sought to end the rituals, associating them with witchcraft and paganism, but the practice continues today.
While there, I thought about my own drug experiences with hallucinogenic substances. I would never say I had noble aspirations like those of the Indigenous people, but there were minor similarities.
I was 19, working at Bennigan’s and hanging out with an artist/bartender. After a shift, she casually handed me a tiny square of paper and said, “Eat this.” We drove around in her 1980s Toyota Corolla, and my inner body felt like it was on fire—like I was going to self-combust.
But then, a clear light filled my being, and I realized I was being purified. The intense heat burned the dross so I could be my true self. I became ecstatic, giddy. And so, while my intention was to just “get fucked up,” my hallucinations and euphoria undulated with intense spiritual themes.
As I studied the collection, I realized that my friend’s art had a similar vibe to some of the Museo de Arte Popular pieces. Ethereal and suggestive of another realm, a portal to an unseen dimension.
Did a couple of hillbillies share a mystic experience akin to ancient civilizations? That’s certainly up for debate.
Still, I believe that once a culture has pierced the veil to a spiritual realm and realized truth, there’s no denying the experience. Even when the Spanish attempted to force the native people into a new religion, they kept their traditions alive through art, stories, and rituals.
Thankfully, majestic places like Museo de Arte Popular preserve these beliefs and practices.
