Above: Detail of an outdoor sculpture by Javier Marin (1962-) on a plaza in Zapopan.
When the sculpture opens its eyes, it already has a soul.”
Sculptor Javier Marin
Arriving barefoot in what was then a village outside of Guadalajara, Spanish-born Fray Antonio de Segovia (1485-1570) bore a doll-size figure of the Virgin Mary around his neck. This effigy was believed to protect him on his journeys thoughout the Tonallan Kingdom as he sought to convert the Native Americans under the rule of Queen Cihualpilli Tzapotzinco. The queen herself was among his converts, and Fray Antonio established an abbey and presented the converts of this village with the statuette he had worn for ten years.
The statue was made by Purépecha Indians in Pátzcuaro using traditional methods. First, a skeleton was constructed out of sugar canes and cornstalks. Then, a special paste or dough called tatzingueni was applied to flesh out the figure. This tatzingueni was made of corn stalk pulp and the juice of a local orchid which gave the paste a latex quality and would prevent the finished product from rotting or spoiling.”
“The Virgin of Zapopan,” Robert Bitto, Mexico Unexplained
One wonders whether the indigenous sculptors felt their creation’s eyes to be magical in much the same way as Javier Marin felt as he worked. La Zaponita’s dark-complected face peeping out from underneath a golden crown and corona is all that reveals her original diminutive size. The body of the effigy of Our Lady of Zapopan is swallowed by an oversized glittering gown, its train draping down from her perch above the main altar of her basilica appearing to triple her height.
La Zaponita may be petite, but the miracles credited to her intercession are numerous and mighty. Perhaps her greatest occurred in 1721. Church leaders paraded her to every church in Guadalajara to share her miraculous power with all the faithful. Following her journey, the deadly plague afflicting the population ended.
Since 1734, Our Lady of Zapopan (Nowadays a replica; the original stays home.) is borne aloft to lead processions to all of Guadalajara’s churches from June 13 until mid-October. She receives supplicants for two or three days at each stop and eight at the Cathedral.
I’m a tad confused, but I believe the Romeria of the Virgin of Zapopan takes place on October 12. The five-mile procession from the Guadalajara Cathedral to Zapopan is said to attract more than one-million people. I absolutely cannot envision how the narrow streets of Zapopan can begin to accommodate such immense crowds celebrating her return.
Above: Basilica de la Senora de Zapopan
Nearby, we found MAZ – Museo de Arte de Zapopan, with the title of its main exhibition emblazoned in lights on its facade. “Por Fin, Algo Bueno,” or “Finally, Something Good,” definitely was not referring to the Basilica.
Above: Entrance to Museo de Arte de Zapopan, or MAZ.
‘Por Fin, Algo Bueno’ challenges the narrative of dystopian tales and predictable patterns; it deliberately opposes the usual methods of understanding and recognizing critical work, proposing other ways of reading information.”
And the featured artist, Stefan Sagmeister (1962), wants our attention.
The climate catastrophe: It is real and human emissions are responsible. We did not have this problem 200 years ago. But we started adding CO₂ into the atmosphere ever since we discovered fire. And then we really turned it up with the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. My grandmother was incredibly frugal. She mended holes in socks, never once used a plastic bag, she didn’t have a car, and never boarded a plane in her life. Her CO₂ footprint was double the size of mine. How is this possible? Her generation burned so much inefficient stuff like wood and coal, that they averaged 10 annual tons of CO₂ per person as opposed to our 5 tons today.”
Stefan Sagmeister
One long, extremely long, panel chronicled well-known doomsayers through the centuries who have predicted the end of the world. Acclaimed prophets proved wrong. I’ve zoomed into a few of his haunting holographic impressions of proselytizing pessimists because, well, at the time we began this ongoing war with Iran, it comforted me.
Strange to realize Nostradamus (1503-1566) gave us eons more time on this earth – until 1999 – say, than Pat Robertson (1930-2023), who presumably was pleased to outlive his prediction of 1982. Televangelist Jerry Falwell (1933-2007) endured the embarrassment of surviving his non-eventful forecast of rapture in the year 2000.
While he might have contributed to the revolution dooming Nicholas and Alexandra, Rasputin (1869-1916) optimistically gave the world until 2013 before its consummation by fire. Hope the world will survive this round of trumpeting chest-thumping as well.
Above: “Una Historia del Fin del Mundo,” Stefan Sagmeister.
Above: Three works by artist Alejandra Laviada (1980-) as part of “The Staircase Made the House Fall,” a MAZ exhibition continuing through June 14.
A few more images from our day in the Zapotan neighborhood of Guadalajara.
There are reminders of those missing due to earlier violence posted in Zapotan. Pleas for help.
Zapopan seemed so peaceful to us. All of this post’s photos were taken the week before the uptick in violence following the arrest of cartel leader “El Mencho.” Evidently, there is a lingering sense of unease created by that combined with the upcoming 2026 World Cup futbal finals to be held in the stadium in Zapopan.
Light more candles, and trust that Our Lady of Zapotan is alert and on duty to protect the city.
Postcards from Barton Springs 