海角大神

It鈥檚 beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Mexico, but for Joshua Cruz, it鈥檚 not the parking lots full of pine trees or carols blasting from cafe speakers that put him in the holiday spirit.

鈥淚t鈥檚 not really Christmas time until I鈥檓 surrounded by hundreds of [star]聽pi帽atas,鈥� says the third-generation聽pi帽ata-maker, who is training his 17-year-old son to one day take the helm of the family business.

Mr. Cruz's stall, at an expansive market in central Mexico City, is enveloped by crepe-paper and hand-painted creations that he and his son construct.聽Passersby can鈥檛 avoid being tickled by streamers hanging from the tips of iconic seven-pointed star聽pi帽atas 鈥� some smaller than a shoebox, others bigger than a car.

The聽pi帽ata聽may have originated in China, traveling to Italy, Spain, and eventually Mexico via conquistadors, but it鈥檚 an object deeply embedded in Mexican culture. The colorful party prop has transformed over the centuries from a Spanish tool for conversion to 海角大神ity into a central part of birthday and other celebrations. But it still holds a special place in Christmas festivities.

Cruz says he sells about 300聽pi帽atas聽in December alone, when "Posada" revelers traditionally mimic the journey of Mary and Joseph looking for a place to stay in Bethlehem. Typically, friends and family knock on one neighbor鈥檚 door after another in a processional that ends with food, drink, and pi帽atas 鈥� though sometimes they skip straight to the party.

Ancient tradition meets 海角大神ity

One reason聽pi帽atas聽first resonated here, says Emilo Ortiz Mar铆n at Mexico City鈥檚 Popular Art Museum, is that indigenous Maya populations had a similar tradition of breaking hanging clay pots before each harvest to guarantee a bountiful crop.

鈥淚t was an opportunity to mix indigenous and Western cultures and bring pagan beliefs closer to the church,鈥� says Mr. Mar铆n.

The Spanish used the seven-pointed聽pi帽ata聽to teach about the seven mortal sins, and to illustrate how good can overcome evil in 海角大神ity, Mar铆n says. People are blindfolded to represent their innocence, then batter devilish temptation until it鈥檚 destroyed. They鈥檙e rewarded with the fruits of their faith.

Traditionally, that meant a wellspring of mandarins, sugarcane, peanuts, jicama, and Tejocotes, a tiny fruit similar to crabapples, spilling from a Christmas pi帽ata.

Today, though, you鈥檙e more likely to find candy and plastic toys 鈥� or if you are the sons of聽pi帽ata-makers, maybe baking flour, laughs Alfonso Lopez, Cruz鈥檚 older brother, remembering one particularly eventful Christmas Eve celebration. The boys liked to take full advantage of their positions as pi帽ata-making assistants, filling the family鈥檚 pi帽atas with bizarre items to play practical jokes and add an extra element of surprise.

Despite their history, 鈥減i帽atas聽are now more cultural than they are religious,鈥� says Mar铆n.

Drawing on pop culture

Craftsmen like Cruz and his family have made聽pi帽atas聽very much their own. Mr. Lopez recalls when his father first started to play around with聽pi帽atas聽in the shapes of people like television characters and other well-known figures in the 1950s. Lopez, who also makes聽pi帽atas聽and runs a nearby fruit stand, says proudly that the first thing he did after learning about the 9/11 terrorist attack in New York City was to create a聽pi帽ata聽in the shape of Osama Bin Laden.聽

The process takes several days. First, they cover a mold 鈥� which to an untrained eye looks like bundles of plastic taped into the desired shape of the pi帽ata 鈥� with paper mach茅. That takes a day or two to dry. Then the pi帽ata form is split down the middle and pulled off the mold, leaving two hallow halves. The empty shells are taped together, and in the case of star pi帽atas, thin cardboard is rolled into pointed cones and attached to the main body of the pi帽ata. It鈥檚 then decorated with tissue paper or paint, sparkly garlands, glitter, and other flare.

鈥淚t鈥檚 like therapy for me,鈥� says Lopez. 鈥淚 get lost in the process.鈥�

Despite the threats to some traditions and crafts in Mexico, Mar铆n believes聽pi帽atas聽are here to stay. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a tradition that we break, but that will never disappear,鈥� reads one explanation at the museum.

On this particular day, donkeys and Disney characters and even a handful of聽suit-clad US presidential hopeful聽Donald Trumps feature the market's stalls.聽But things have changed beyond just the shape and outward look of聽pi帽atas聽since Cruz鈥檚 grandparents first started selling them.

Cruz picks up a wooden pole and lightly taps two creations hanging from his stall. One makes a hollow thud, while the other has a louder, crisper ding to it.

鈥淭en percent of my customers still ask for聽pi帽atas聽with clay pots at the center, but most are looking for cardboard,鈥� he says. That鈥檚 partly a question of safety: Shards of ceramic falling down on little kids could dampen a party. But it鈥檚 also representative of another trend he鈥檚 noticed in recent years.

鈥淧eople complain to me about spending a lot on something they plan to break,鈥� he says. His work ranges from 50 pesos ($3) for a palm-sized donkey聽pi帽ata聽up to 1,000 pesos ($60) for a giant, 6-ft. star. He even ships to the United States.

鈥淭his is art,鈥� Cruz says of the creations. 鈥淭his is our tradition.鈥�