Party favor or art? Preserving the craft of the pi帽ata.
| Dallas
Would you take a sledgehammer to the David? A flamethrower to the Mona Lisa? A shredder to the latest Banksy? (Actually, scratch .)
Why then, some people are beginning to ask, would you want to pulverize a pi帽ata?
Alfonso Hernandez, for one, wants you to lower the bat and take off the blindfold and appreciate the artistry of a form that dates back hundreds of years.
Why We Wrote This
What we鈥檙e willing to spend on something becomes a message of worth intimately tied to the object鈥檚 creator. In expanding their art, pi帽ata makers ask viewers to reconsider these traditional art objects 鈥� and the people who make them.
The Dallas-based artist has crafted life-size pi帽ata sculptures of Mexican singer Vicente Fern谩ndez and Jack Skellington from 鈥淭he Nightmare Before Christmas.鈥� He wants the public to help turn an industry into art.
鈥淧i帽ata makers never treated it like an art form,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e taught to make it fast. It doesn鈥檛 matter what it looks like, just hurry up because they鈥檙e going to break it.鈥�
Unsatisfied with the generic mass production that has characterized their discipline for decades, pi帽ata makers are pushing the artistic limits of the party pieces. These pi帽atas, bigger and more detailed, are made out of wood, foam, wire, and clay, and sculpted to look like beloved icons and life-size聽. Some move, some are political, and some even talk. Rihanna is a fan, as are, increasingly, art galleries.
For generations, the real cost of bargain pi帽atas has typically been borne by the pi帽ata makers themselves working long, arduous hours for less than minimum wage. By proving that pi帽atas can be more than just clubbable party pieces, people like Mr. Hernandez hope they can both create art and bring a wider respect and dignity to a craft long viewed as cheap and disposable.
鈥淚t鈥檚 been an underappreciated art form,鈥� says Emily Zaiden, director and lead curator of the Craft in America Center in Los Angeles.
鈥淧i帽atas are so accessible. They speak to everybody,鈥� she adds. But there鈥檚 also a flip side. Pi帽atas 鈥渃an be about appropriation, can be about, I think, the trivialization of a cultural tradition.鈥�
A new generation of Hispanic artists, she continues, 鈥渟ee how much metaphorical potential pi帽atas have, and how deeply it reflects their identities.鈥�
The pi帽ata-making grind is familiar to Mr. Hernandez. He tried to sell the first pi帽atas he made for $100, only to end up accepting $40. He quickly learned the importance of speed and volume. He鈥檚 wiry and lean 鈥� the product of losing about 40 pounds during a sleepless four-year tear when he made pi帽atas seven days a week. And he speaks with a rattling impatience, like he needs to get his words out as quickly as he once did his pi帽atas.
Today, Mr. Hernandez works slower, with more care and craft, from his garage workshop in east Dallas. And across the country, other pi帽ata makers are doing the same.聽
Change in purpose
There are lots of questions around where pi帽atas come from. They may have emerged in Europe, or China, or the Aztec era 鈥� or in all three independently. There are few preserved, written historical records on the origins of pi帽atas 鈥� another sign of how underappreciated the craft has been, Ms. Zaiden believes.
鈥淎 lot of this work probably hasn鈥檛 been collected or preserved in ways that other types of art have been,鈥� she says.
鈥淚t鈥檚 all speculation and oral history really,鈥� she adds, 鈥渂ut that goes hand in hand with the idea that these are ephemeral objects.鈥�
For centuries, pi帽atas were used for religious ceremonies in Mexico. Typically built to resemble a seven-pointed star, symbolizing the seven deadly sins, they would decorate homes 鈥� and be smashed 鈥� during the Christmas season.
Their religious significance faded over time, and they became the popular children鈥檚 birthday party feature. But as the pi帽ata industry commercialized, quality and craftsmanship became secondary to quantity.
Yesenia Prieto grew up in that world. A third-generation pi帽ata maker, she watched her mother and grandmother create in her grandmother鈥檚 house in south central Los Angeles, and when she was 19 she started helping herself. It was a constant struggle to survive, she says.
鈥淚 was tired of seeing how poor we were,鈥� she adds. 鈥淢y grandma was about to lose her house. And we just needed to make more money. We needed to survive.鈥�
She describes a week in the life of a typical pi帽ata maker. A four-person crew makes about 60 units out of paper, water, and glue a week. Selling wholesale, they make $600 and split it between the four of them. That鈥檚 about $150 for a full week of work.
鈥淧eople don鈥檛 think of pi帽atas as something artistic most of the time,鈥� she says. 鈥淥ne of the main reasons is because the workers themselves are making so little.鈥�
鈥淲hat you鈥檙e seeing is an art form having to be mass produced and rushed because they鈥檙e getting sweatshop wages,鈥� she adds.
Sometimes that is literally the case.
In 2012, three women in a lawsuit that they were forced to make pi帽atas in an illegal factory in the New York City borough of Queens. Locked in an unventilated basement below a party supply store, they were forced to work 11-hour shifts for $3 per hour making about 300 pi帽atas a week. A federal judge ordered their bosses to pay them over $200,000 in damages, attorney鈥檚 fees, and other costs.
What the market thinks pi帽atas are worth
In 2012, Ms. Prieto went independent from her family, and independent from the mainstream pi帽ata industry. She founded and set to making custom, complex pieces that reflect the artistic potential of the craft.
They鈥檝e created pterodactyls and stormtroopers. They鈥檝e made a giant Nike sneaker, and an 8-foot-tall donkey for the 2019 Coachella music festival. They made a pi帽ata of singer Rihanna for her birthday. (She kept it a whole year before finally breaking it, Ms. Prieto says.)
But the need to hustle hasn鈥檛 abated, according to Ms. Prieto. They work longer on their pi帽atas than most makers do 鈥� up to 16 hours in some cases 鈥� but still struggle to sell them for more than $1 an hour.
They鈥檝e been leveraging the internet and social media 鈥� posting pictures of pieces as they鈥檙e being made, to illustrate the labor that鈥檚 involved 鈥� and they鈥檙e slowly raising their price point.
鈥淲e鈥檙e still taking losses on certain things. But that鈥檚 the goal,鈥� she adds. 鈥淭o see our work for what it truly is. ... For this art form to survive, [and fulfill] its artistic potential.鈥�
She鈥檚 also now reaching out to other pi帽ata makers about forming a co-op. By working together, she hopes, pi帽ata makers can get paid fairly, at least. Artistic quality could also improve. And as people see elaborate, custom pi帽atas more often, she believes, demand will grow, and pay will grow with it.
鈥淲hat we鈥檙e doing is trying to show you what they鈥檇 look like if they were valued more,鈥� says Ms. Prieto. 鈥淚f [people] understand how it鈥檚 made, they know it鈥檚 not machines just cranking these things out.鈥�
鈥淭here is a shift taking place,鈥� she adds. She鈥檚 seeing pi帽atas in galleries more often. But 鈥渢here鈥檚 [still] a need for us to push hard to survive. At least that鈥檚 how I鈥檓 experiencing things right now.鈥�
Look, don鈥檛 touch
Artistic pi帽atas and functional (read: 鈥渟mashable鈥�) pi帽atas exist in very different worlds, says Ms. Zaiden. But they can affect one another.
She curated a聽聽at the Craft in America Center last year 鈥� including some of Ms. Prieto鈥檚 pieces. None of the works were designed to be beaten to smithereens. A larger version of that exhibit will go on display at a museum in San Diego this fall. The pi帽atas conveyed messages on everything from pop culture and junk food to border policy and reproductive rights.
鈥淧eople love them, and they become centers of this monumental occasion, this celebration,鈥� she adds.聽鈥淪o maybe there鈥檚 a possibility that people appreciate them as something that isn鈥檛 just smashed.鈥�
In Dallas, Mr. Hernandez has his own plans, and his own dreams.聽
His business, No Limit Arts and Crafts, has been blowing up since Texas Monthly profiled him . He鈥檚 making a giant Day of the Dead-themed Big Tex pi帽ata for the Texas State Fair, and he鈥檚 making a pi帽ata of Selena, the slain Tejana singer 鈥� a job that he says 鈥渢errifies鈥� him because she鈥檚 so beloved.
But he wants to focus less on big, custom sculptures. Now he wants to sell DIY kits so kids can make their own pi帽atas at home.聽He not only wants families to get higher quality pieces for their celebrations, but also hopes to help them scratch the same artistic itch he鈥檚 had since he was in elementary school.聽The way Lego has fueled children鈥檚 imaginations for decades, he wants pi帽atas to do the same.
鈥淥ne of the most important feelings that you get from this ... is, 鈥榃ow, this thing is amazing. I can鈥檛 break it,鈥欌�� he says.
鈥淭o sell [that] feeling is what I鈥檓 looking for.鈥�
