Eric Demay

In Mexico, almost all signage is hand painted directly onto the building. And to a modern man, it feels radical: nowadays, it seems like the only thing painted in our streets are pedestrian crossings, applied without even the slightest brush.

And to me, this reveals a deeper truth. The ability and willingness of certain cultures to directly shape one’s surroundings. To take control and try. Hands on, they’re interested and involved. We however, like most westerners, have unfortunately lost a lot of that creative communal touch. We’re afraid to “not do it properly”. We’re often too bound by customs and technological answers. We don’t even consider changing anything because without a degree or a job title, it seems as you’re not qualified enough to create something for others.

So it’s quite refreshing to walk down the streets of Mexico, and see, amongst a few McDonalds, Wal-Marts and fancy hotels, a vast majority of signs like these. They’re hand-painted, some even a little clumsy, but always honest and typographically rich.

Philippe Lamarre, fondateur du studio montréalais Toxa et du magazine Urbania, a évoqué quelques-unes de ces idées relatant son périple de recensement typographique à Buenos Aires, Berlin et Montréal. Deux articles à consulter:

• Le Devoir: Menace sur la diversité typographique des villes. «Que ce soit à Paris, New York, ou Hong Kong, aujourd’hui tout le lettrage commercial provient de découpes de vinyle faites à l’ordinateur. C’est d’une banalité désarmante. C’est l’effet Starbucks et McDonald’s appliqué au graphisme urbain.»
• Voir: Loin de la Carte Postale. «Parfois, ajoute-t-il, les affiches de chats perdus sont plus belles que n’importe quel design international et générique.»

I love that if it weren’t that public telephone (and possibly a few unfortunate reflections), this exact moment is almost an impeccable glimpse of the 60s. Even the men’s attire is nearly spot on.

On another note, I was remembered this weekend that a few posts were missing to the Mexico series to complete the whole DF coverage. So, back to the blogging board and coming up next: bad ass ghetto street typography.

Like most taquerillas in downtown Mexico, the waiters at El Borrego Viudo (The Widowed Sheep) scribble down your order (how many tacos? refreshments?) and leave to the kitchen. They’ll then come back moments later, running out in your direction with an armful of plates, including the customary accompanying tomato salsa and fresh limes. However, at this establishment, all happens and is experienced from the front seat of your car.

It’s a drive-in restaurant. The show starts as the waiters waive you in the parking lot, indicating an available parking spot. They’ll even help you park, whistling the distance left behind you while you back up (same ritual when you leave). And between this dance of incoming and backing-up cars, is the other inflow: tacos to the parking lot. Waiters valsing through the vehicles with too many plates up their sleeves, feeding the hungry dinning drivers.

With a population of over 110 million, it is no surprise that Mexico’s most staple food, the tortilla, isn’t commonly handmade anymore¹.

But when my eyes stumbled upon this machine, making tortilla after tortilla, baking them a gazillion a minute, patrons picking up their fresh orders at the nearby counter, I was torn. Part of me was in awe: the beauty of a food making machine still fascinates me no matter how industrialized it may be. I enjoy it the same way I enjoy an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine.

However, I also felt like I was suddenly behind the curtain, watching the fraudulent Wizard of Oz operate his levers and dials, faking it all. The magic of the simple tortilla—such an essential constituent of the Mexican culinary culture—had gone, its innocence had vanished before me. Talking to a few Mexicans about it, most do feel strongly about its taste. Of them not being handmade anymore (and made using, most of the time, poor instant corn flour): “It’s just not the same. They’re simply not as good.”

So, now aware of this new duality, look around closely and you’ll notice many small restaurants or street food vendors still make their own, to the great pleasure of their patrons:

• 1. If you haven’t already, I press you to read this overview by Edible Geography of the maize and tortilla situation in contemporary Mexico amongst el Walmarts and sliced breads.

If you cut an unflowered stem of a Maguey plant, take its honey tasting sap—el agua miel—and ferment it for a week or two, you’ll get a load of bubbly viscous milky-white lightly alcoholic liquid, i.e. pulque. You can drink it straight (blanco) or flavored (curado) which often includes guava, piña, coconut, celery (!) or oats (!!). Loco, I know. (By the way, if you take the same plant, cook/smoke and ferment its heart, you’ll get mescal. Not in the same order of alcoholic refreshments though.)

On top of its dainty methods of confection and short shelf life, pulque is also only served in dedicated watering-holes, aptly named pulquerias—rustic places with tired men and loud jukeboxes. But like all things odd and forgotten, hipsters seem to be all over them though. The crowd at the pulqueria we visited was mostly comprised of young urbanites, stopping after work/school, in for a few liters of refreshing slimy maguey juice.

Wondering about the peculiar interior decoration, this is clipped directly from wikipedia:

“Diego Rivera once said that one of the most important manifestations of Mexican painting was the murals that decorated the facades and interiors of pulquerías.”

So that explains it. Notice also the maguey plants on the exterior facade (very first pic). Below: Jukebox in the back, bags of oats on the counter. The buckets under the bar hold the different curado flavors which they ladle out in to your glass.

Interestingly, there’s quite a history to the drink, starting with humble mythological beginnings as goddess Mayahuel’s blood. It quickly became the religious and ceremonial drink, ritually consumed by priests and the elite of pre-colombian Mexico. Then released to the masses during the colonial period, it proved even too popular, the public drunkeness became somewhat problematic and authorities ended regulating and highly taxing its consumption. And though it regained popularity after the independence and throughout the 19th century, it lost the race to beer in the 20th, and now only counts as 10% of all alcoholic beverages consumed in Mexico today. Quite a shame for such an iconic cultural concoction, considering its roots and the necessity of cool drinks on hot summer days.

Hygiene freaks need not apply. This place even had a urinal right at the front door. Practical!

Yeah, sure, the size factor is appealing, but what to do with this dazzed popping-eye-socket rodent-like look?

Teotihuacán is 50 clicks north of downtown Mexico, a pleasant day-trip and a must if you’re in around. Now, on to today’s history lesson cliff notes:

• These [restored] pre-columbian ruins are what is left of the ancient Teotihuacán city, which, at the time, spilled approximately 30km2 around and was eventually called home to over 200,000 people, for over 700 years.
• Built at the around 200 AD, its two pyramids—of the sun and of the moon—epitomize its past grandeur. The pyramid of the sun is the 3rd largest in the world (70m high) and unlike its egyptian cousins with tombs and secret halls and buried treasures, these are basically a pile of rocks. The museum even adds: “built without the use of the wheels nor animals”. Fun times!
• Also, evidence found suggests the Teotihuacán population was of diverse ethnic backgrounds. Theoretically, these differences are also possible explanations of the internal uprising which tipped the city towards its decline and collapse (900 AD).
• Bonus: Archeological findings have also revealed a great deal of human sacrifices! Double-Fun times!

For some reason, Mexicans don’t spit their flavorless chewed-out gum on to the sidewalk, they diligently place it at eye level on the trunk of certain trees.

Now the real question are:

• What determines a good gum tree: its placement? Shape? Size? Bark type?
• And is the amount of chewed gums already stuck on the tree trunk a influential factor of gum collection growth (i.e. the more gums on the trunk, the more gum chewers will be enticed to place their gum on said trunk)?

Take a back street, see where it leads and you’re sure to land on an interesting sight. Old 60’s VW bugs galore, still up and running, many speeding down Mexico’s highways, with often too many passengers. The volks wagon couldn’t be a better name.

Photo taken at the corner of calles San Felipe and Mayorazgo in Coyoacan—by the way, how cool is that to have a neighborhood still called Land of Coyotes!

I love this.

Every morning, first thing right before hitting the metro system, we stop by the neighborhood’s juice lady’s stall and get our frist fresh squeeze of fruit of the day. Mix and match (mitad y mitad) for your liter (M25$ · CADきゃど2.10$) or half liter (M15$ · CADきゃど1.25$) of juicy freshness: zanahoria (carrot), betabel (beet), naranja (orange) and toronja (grapefruit). She also make licuados (fruit smoothies) and aguas frescas (fruity water), e.g. lemonade: mix water (slightly sugared) and limes (whole, peel included) then hits frappé.

The best thing about these juice vendors is there are all around the city. So when it’s 3 pm, blistering hot and you’re in dire need of water and sugar to keep you going, these are the most refreshing, invigorating and healthiest stops you could find. To think that in Quebec, our equivalent answer to this is Slush™. Urg.

The most striking aspect of this—other that the idea of launching yourself backwards, twenty meters above the ground, harness-less and turning upside down for 10 minutes till you slowly descending to the ground—is the evident presence of pre-hispanic heritage still present in contemporary Mexican culture.

The aftermath of colonial invasion strikes a very different chord down here in Mexico than up in the States and Canada, where aboriginal cultures and people have been nothing short of annihilated, leaving them today still scraping for recognition and rights.

Though the Spanish conquest has been too many times ruthless and bloody, it has nevertheless assimilated the local aboriginals in a way that is has interestingly evolved into a rich blend of both parties. And seemingly somewhat balanced, the wide array of face and body types walking the streets of Mexico genetically invoke this melting pot: a spectrum which varies from the stubby to slender, dark skinned to lighter tones, all united by a unique and strongly identifiable culture.

Thus today, the same way spanish is spoken and christianity is practiced, these aboriginal roots are still alive, embraced and sometimes even celebrated: may it be by the flamboyant use of color, to street names, to distinctive architectural elements, to the flying Aztecs in Chapultapec park.

My first gut reaction on the plane, the belt buckle still clipped, gazing down at the sea of red tiled roofs: “Shit, it’s huge.” The metropolitan area holds 22 millions people— comparable to New York’s in population and size, though slightly denser— but its defined mountainous surroundings only seem to highlight the city’s vastness and the relatively low amount of high-rises, its very chaotic and expansive nature.

And so, after a sleepless night in transit, we landed in Mexico City.

Not unlike being in the belly of the beast, only a very welcoming and charming one. Not so rough up to now.

In town for 10 days, I am ready for some serious taco eating.

And street photography.

Stay tuned.

Ma séquence favorite des séries? Le jeu de Gill lorsqu’il se coucha devant le filet, venant à la rescousse de Halak et les sauvant d’un but probable des Flyers.

Outre le geste inusité en soi, c’est surtout la reprise vidéo du dessus du filet et montrée au relenti qui me fascine: Gill se hissant en place, étandant ses 6 pieds 7 pouces (+ patins) de part et d’autre dans l’enclave du gardien, flottant jusqu’en position. Je ne pouvais que me rappeler la série de tableaux du jeune photographe Jon Von Holleban initutlée Dreams of Flying: des mises en scènes fantastiques, le sol étant la clé à des mondes magiques dépourvus de gravité:

Pendant que nous y sommes, l’oeuvre de Von Holleben a été source d’inspiration pour plusieurs photographes/cinéastes/DA aux cours des dernières années: allant d’une tonne de vidéos de musique à d’la pub pour des boissons désaltérantes. Un éventail de ces créations collatérales se trouve ici et là.

Quand c’est ta fête, et si après 10 minutes de coups peu dommageables, c’est tout ton droit de t‘énerver, d’abattre et détruire la piñata à ta façon, avec l’arme de ton choix.

Dans ce cas ci, la fêtée a achevé l‘âne à coups de bouteille de bière. C’est on ne peut plus violent, mais ça marche.

Joyeux anniversaire, gurl.