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LIGHTING THE WAY FOR
DEAD SOULS
by Alice Hutchinson
Viviana’s yard is her workplace. Cast Iron rings with two-meter long candles hang from the corrugated roof. Boxes of partially molded wax flowers sit amidst axes, scissors and chunks of beeswax. Next to the clothesline a giant cauldron of wax bubbles on an open fire.
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It is a sleepy Sunday in Teotitlan. Sitting under a shady tree, revered candle maker Viviana Alavez Hipolito is squeezing hundreds of limes with the help of her elderly aunt, while gently rocking a push chair to keep her grandchild quiet.
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The lime juice is to clean the wax’ Viviana proudly explains. ‘I do not make the candles on Sunday, I do my washing on Sunday’ says Viviana. But a busy time of year approaches, so she is preparing the wax for the week ahead.
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Candles play as vital a role in the lives of Oaxacans as does music. No wedding, funeral or fiesta is complete without them. At this time of the year Viviana is inundated with special requests for decorative candles to adorn altars for Day of The Dead.
While much of Viviana’s work is used locally (the church is her most prolific exhibitor), she receives commissions to make candles from families as far away as Monterrey. During the months leading up to Day of the Dead people make regular visits to her house or telephone her with special requests.
Egyptians first used candles in their funeral services to prevent demons from seizing the soul of the dead. Today, in Mexico, each altar candle, decorated or not, commemorates a dead family member. When lit, the name of the one for whom each candle is intended, is called. It is said that the souls for whom no candles are lit, weep and grieve.
Decorative candles begin life as the familiar tall, straight variety until Viviana’s hands transform them into colorful creations. Wax flowers, leaves, and sometimes paper additions, in varying degrees of size, color, and shape are added to a candle, until they sometimes resemble elaborate trees of life. Viviana´s fading photo scrapbook illustrates the extent of her talent. There are delicate half-meter tall table pieces on one page, and giant five-meter masterpieces towering above Vivinana on the next.
Viviana’s family has been producing candles longer than any family in Teotitlan, but exactly when they started no one is sure. ‘Since the ancestors!’ explains Viviana. Orphaned at a young age, Viviana learned the craft from her maternal aunt, who learned it from her mother, who learned it from her grandmother…and so on.
“I am older now, and can´t produce the three hundred or so candles I made each week when I was young. Now I make about twelve candles per week,´ says Viviana.
Fortunately the eldest of her eleven children, José learned the craft from her and has also passed on the knowledge to his wife.
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Unlike many who live a hard, rural existence, Viviana does not look her age. She puts it down to Teotitlan’s wonderful air.
Viviana never wants to leave her hometown and is adverse to teaching outsiders the craft, “This is a family tradition” she says. “It is special to us. I have taught others before and they have stolen my ideas and not thanked me”.
Viviana is referring to her wax roses, an original design, which has since become commonplace. ‘Because others have imitated’ she says, with a hint of pleasure rather than irritation. Viviana is also renowned for developing three-dimensional designs, rather than simply decorating the front of the candle.
Asked whether the colors of the candles hold particular significance, Viviana sighs with half a smile. ‘Claro! We use a lot of purple for Day of the Dead, it represents ‘luto’ (mourning) We never use living colours like red’. ‘White and pink are for weddings and births’ she adds.
The red and pink dyes are sometimes derived from cochineal, the cactus worm they retain their colour for up to four years. By combining natural dyes with manufactured ones, Viviana has greatly extended her creative palette.
The use of candles in pre-nuptial gift giving has encouraged Vivian´s decorative prowess.
During the past twenty years, ‘life cycle ceremonies’ have become much grander in the prosperous weaving community of Teotitlan. Viviana notes that the prospective groom now has to provide the family of his ‘wife to be’ with, ‘three long candles, one hundred small ones and one decorated candle, plus, one thousand pieces of bread, thirty kilos of chocolate, melons, pineapples and bananas’.
It is not surprising to hear that the gifts must be transported on a flat bed truck. Viviana implies that while this can create financial problems for some families, it is better than in the past, when women were ‘robbed by the men’.
At this time of year, numerous Day of the Dead tourists visit Viviana to witness candle making demonstrations. Despite earlier protestations that she does not like to share her knowledge, Viviana is clearly not worried that ‘extraneros’ might take up the art. She nimbly hops bare foot across the yard and proceeds to give a demonstration.
Standing next to her boiling cauldron, she picks up a gourd and imitates how the hot wax is poured over the cotton wick, which hangs from a large iron ring, suspended from the roof. After each pouring, the candle is left to dry for an hour before the next pouring. For the flowers, which are carefully, but rapidly, attached to the central candle once completed, Viviana uses the bases of jugs to make the initial round forms. Once the wax has hardened a little, she takes some scissors and masterfully cuts and pinches the edges to produce, in this case, a perfect lily.
Witnessing this painstaking process, it soon becomes apparent why a large decorative candle can cost upward of two hundred dollars. ‘The large ones take a week’ says Viviana. Fortunately, for those who desire her work, she also makes smaller candles, which she sells for a more than reasonable price.
“The tourists sometimes buy them for curiosity”, she says with a smile. For Mexicans, however, candles clearly remain sacred.
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