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Death has been a universal theme of artistic expression across great civilizations throughout the centuries. However, in no culture has this concept been represented quite as it has in Mexico. The work of lithographer and engraver José Guadalupe Posada (1852–1913) established the skull, or skeleton, as one of the most significant and recurring motifs in Mexican art—so much so that it has become a globally recognized symbol of Mexico. Following Posada’s legacy, Mexican artists have continued to use the idea of death to portray skulls that appear far from lifeless or grim.
From bullfighters, mariachis, brides, even mermaids to the world-famous Catrina—depicted in a variety of everyday situations such as playing music, riding horseback, or even flirting—these figures are far from mournful. Instead, they appear lively, colourful, and often festive. In this context, the celebration of death becomes inseparable from the celebration of life, as the boundary between the two grows increasingly blurred. Death is thus rendered personal and familiar, even playful: la muerte becomes something one can fool around with. Ultimately, these artistic representations invite us to laugh at our inevitable end in an ironic and subtly macabre manner
J. G. Posada (Click to enlarge)
Alvaro de la Cruz (Click to enlarge)
Sergio Bustamante (Click to enlarge)
Rodolfo Nieto (Click to enlarge)
Mictecacihuatli
The Journey to Mictlán – Origins of Día de Muertos
The cult of the dead has been a fundamental aspect of civilizations throughout history. However, no country commemorates death in a manner as deeply rooted, mystical, and joyful as Mexico. While in many other nations death is approached with solemnity, on the first two days of November Mexico celebrates its most emblematic holiday, Día de Muertos, with flowers, costumes, food, drinks, music, and laughter. Día de Muertos is not a day of mourning, but a celebration of life. Mexicans deeply believe that by remembering the deceased with affection and joy, they continue to exist. To fully understand Día de Muertos and the unique relationship Mexicans have with death, however, one must look back to pre-colonial times
The Aztecs, inhabitants of Tenochtitlan—present-day Mexico City—possessed a distinctive way of understanding the world, life, and death. Like many ancient cultures, they embraced a cyclical view of the universe and therefore regarded death as an inherent part of life. Notably, in the Aztec Empire, as in many other early civilizations, rituals and festivities related to death coincided with the beginning of the harvest. For the Aztecs, dying did not signify an end, but rather the possibility of a new beginning.
In sharp contrast to Catholic beliefs, and like many other Indigenous peoples of the Americas, the Aztecs did not conceive of heaven and hell. According to their worldview, the destiny of the soul was determined solely by the circumstances of one’s death—in other words, by how a person died. The Aztecs believed in four underworlds, each reserved for a specific type of death. The realm designated for those who died of natural causes was known as Mictlán, the kingdom of Mictlantecuhtli, Aztec Goddess of Death. To reach Mictlán, the soul of the deceased was required to pass through a series of trials or levels in a purifying journey, ultimately arriving at a final state of eternal peace. On earth, the relatives of the dead organized ceremonies and festivities to help guide the soul along this path. These rituals constitute the historical roots of the Día de Muertos celebrations as they are known today.
Needless to say, Mictlán was not the only destination for the souls of the dead, since not all deaths resulted from natural causes. Omeyocan, the kingdom of Huitzilopochtli, the god of war, served as the resting place for warriors who died in combat. Arrival in Omeyocan was considered a great privilege: those who reached it were believed to rejoice in eternal songs and dances before eventually returning to the earth in the form of birds, as a reward for their sacrifice. Notably, women who died as a result of childbirth were also granted a place in Huitzilopochtli’s realm. In addition, Chichihualcuauhco was the paradise reserved for the souls of deceased children. These souls were likewise considered privileged, as they were destined to return to the earth when the human race became extinct, from which life would be reborn. Finally, Tlalocan—the paradise of Tlaloc, the god of rain—was the resting place for those who had died by drowning.
Día de Muertos is not Halloween, preserve our traditions!
People often confuse Día de Muertos with Halloween; however, it is essential to distinguish between the two festivities. Halloween originates in Northern Irish traditions that marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the Celtic year. In this context, death is frequently portrayed as an encounter with frightening beings such as ghosts, witches, or monsters. By contrast, Día de Muertos is a celebration rooted in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerican traditions and is likewise connected to the agricultural cycle, yet it is not intended to be frightening. In Mexico, the dead are joyfully welcomed with music, dance, and vibrant colors.
The proximity of the dates on which Día de Muertos and Halloween are celebrated often adds to the confusion; however, this overlap is largely the result of Catholic influence rather than shared origins. Día de Muertos takes place on the first and second of November to coincide with the Catholic observances of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, dates established by Spanish missionaries following evangelization. Halloween, celebrated on October 31, derives from All Hallows’ Eve, the vigil preceding All Saints’ Day. The closeness of these dates reflects independent efforts to align different traditions with the Christian calendar, rather than any common symbolic meaning.
Another clear distinction lies in their contemporary practice. Halloween is often associated with commercialization and the consumption of seasonal, disposable merchandise. In contrast, Día de Muertos is marked by the creation of altars and costumes that emphasize creativity, imagination, and affection rather than monetary value. Finally, it is worth noting that the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) has recognized Día de Muertos as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, underscoring its unique cultural significance, whereas Halloween has not even been recognized as an official holiday.
Día de Muertos Altars and the Cempasúchil Flower
During Día de Muertos, altars are created not only to honor and remember the dead, but also to guide their souls on the journey to Mictlán. These altars incorporate a wide variety of elements, including papel picado, candles, food, water, sugar skulls, flowers, crucifixes, and rosaries, as well as more personal objects such as handwritten messages, photographs of the deceased, and belongings that once belonged to them. Symbolically, Día de Muertos altars function as vehicles through which the dead are brought back to life: they reflect how the deceased lived while simultaneously serving as expressions of love and remembrance from the living.
Among the most common and symbolically charged elements of these altars is the cempasúchil (marigold) flower. Native to Mexico, this flower blooms in autumn after the rainy season, and its life cycle coincides with the Día de Muertos celebrations. The word cempasúchil has pre-Hispanic origins, derived from the Nahuatl words cempoal, meaning “twenty,” and xóchitl, meaning “flower,” often interpreted as “the flower of twenty petals.” The Aztecs believed that its intense orange and yellow petals captured the rays of the sun and that its strong fragrance could attract even the dead. For this reason, pathways of cempasúchil petals are traditionally laid out, as their vivid colors and powerful aroma are believed to guide the souls of the deceased back to their altars.
La Catrina Garbancera (Click to enlarge)
J. G. Posada outside his engraving workshop
Without a doubt, one of the greatest exponents of Mexican art was the draftsman, lithographer, and engraver José Guadalupe Posada. Born in 1852 in Aguascalientes, Posada learned various engraving techniques from an early age and collaborated with numerous publications throughout his life. It was during his work with the publishing house of Antonio Vanegas Arroyo in Mexico City, however, that Posada produced his most influential works. As has often happened with great talents, he died abandoned and in extreme poverty in 1913, in the notoriously rough neighborhood of Tepito in Mexico City. Unclaimed after his death, Posada was buried in a mass grave; paradoxically, it was his constant engagement with the theme of death that ultimately immortalized him.
To fully understand Posada’s work, it is essential to examine the historical context in which he lived. Born only a few decades after Mexico gained independence from Spain, Posada worked in a society where the majority of the population was illiterate. As a result, illustrators for newspapers and broadsheets assumed the responsibility of communicating events of national importance through imagery rather than written language. In this context, visual language needed to be accessible, direct, and humorous in order to capture public attention. Posada exposed prominent figures in Mexican society—politicians, artists, and public personalities—using death, or more specifically skulls, as central protagonists in his visual narratives.
The majority of Posada’s engravings were produced during the presidency of Porfirio Díaz (1884–1910). This period was marked by technological advancement and economic growth, yet prosperity was unevenly distributed, resulting in widespread inequality that eventually led to the Mexican Revolution (1910–1917). Under the slogan “Order and Progress,” Díaz introduced railways, telephone communication, and the first automobiles; nevertheless, these advances largely benefited only a privileged few. Posada’s engravings reflected the suffering and injustices experienced by the broader population, employing skulls in imaginative and satirical ways as tools of social and political critique.
To understand Posada’s criticism of social inequality, one must examine his use of death as a recurring subject. His message is clear: regardless of wealth, education, or social status, all individuals share the same inevitable fate. In death, everyone becomes equal—reduced to bone. From this premise, Posada created a wide range of satirical skulls representing authorities, revolutionaries, peasants, and merchants alike. Among them, one figure stands out above all others: La Catrina Garbancera. The term catrina derives from the masculine catrín, referring to a person of high social standing, while garbancera comes from garbanzo (chickpea), alluding to Indigenous women who sought to conceal their origins by selling chickpeas instead of the more common corn in an attempt to appear aristocratic.
La Catrina Garbancera is depicted wearing elegant Victorian attire—an ornate hat adorned with feathers or flowers, gloves, and often an umbrella. At the time, clothing served as a clear marker of social hierarchy, and European fashion was adopted by the elite, or by those aspiring to elite status, to distinguish themselves from the working classes. Ultimately, La Catrina Garbancera functions as a caricatural embodiment of social pretension and hypocrisy, exposing the absurdity of denying one’s origins in pursuit of status.
Sueño de una Tarde Dominical en la Alameda Central (Click to enlarge)
Posada’s Rightful Place in Mexican History
José Guadalupe Posada is considered one of the most important graphic artists in the history of Mexico. His skull imagery not only forms an integral part of Mexican visual culture but has also become a global reference for the country itself. Diego Rivera, regarded by many as the greatest Mexican artist, paid Posada what may be considered the most profound tribute imaginable. This homage took the form of a monumental 15-by-50-foot mural that elevated the myth of La Catrina Garbancera.
The mural Sueño de una Tarde Dominical en la Alameda Central (Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in the Alameda Central) presents a panoramic, chronological vision of Mexican history. It features numerous key figures from different eras, including Hernán Cortés, Maximilian of Habsburg, Benito Juárez, and Porfirio Díaz. Despite the historical weight of these personalities, José Guadalupe Posada occupies the central and most honored position in the composition and in Mexican history. He is depicted holding the arm of his most iconic creation, La Catrina, who wears Quetzalcóatl, the Feathered Serpent, as a scarf—subtly linking pre-Hispanic mythology to modern Mexican identity—while holding the hand of a child version of Rivera, standing only inches away from Rivera’s equally renowned wife, Frida Kahlo.
Diego, Frida, La Catrina, and Posada (Click to enlarge)
Francisco “Paco” Díaz Cuéllar
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