The small towns around Lake Cajititlán are known for their arts and crafts, but locating the artisans is sometimes quite difficult, as they tend to work unobtrusively inside their homes or under a shade tree in the backyard. In San Juan Evangelista, however, you will actually find a Plaza de los Artesanos, surrounded by workshops where lumps of clay are turned into works of art.
In one of these talleres we walked in on Martín Navarro Ibarra, who was intently working on a beautiful figure of an owl which—when he turned it—proved to be a pencil holder as well. Several other unfinished pieces lay on his desk, each one demonstrating the extraordinary imagination, skill and attention to detail of this master sculptor.
When we asked him about the tradition of ceramic-making in San Juan, Navarro Ibarra told us that in his town, three generations have been developing their skills in this medium, all of them inspired by his great uncle, Don Sixto Ibarra (1928-2001) who, it seems, became interested in ceramics when he found figurines in a shaft tomb near the town. “My great uncle started out trying to duplicate the ancient pieces he had found, but ended up founding a school of creative sculpting, especially in the medium of burnished clay.”
Not knowing much about pottery, I asked what burnishing means. Martín explained that it involves rubbing the outside of the pot with a hard (often metal) tool which rearranges and compresses the surface particles of clay, resulting in a smooth, even texture which almost looks like a glaze. Martín then showed us his favorite burnishing tool: a stainless steel valve taken from a car’s engine. “It’s the very best thing I’ve found for doing the job,” he swears.
Having discovered that the basalt sculpting of nearby San Lucas probably goes back to pre-Hispanic times due to the abundance of natural raw material just outside the town, I asked Martín Ibarra whether there happened to be a source of modeling clay near San Juan.
“Actually, there is very good clay just a 40-minute walk from here,” he told us, “and this is what I always use. I suspect the same clay was also used to make many of the ancient figurines found in this area.”
This added strength to my theory that the tradition of arts and crafts around Lake Cajititlán preceded the arrival of the Spaniards and this supposition was again confirmed when Martín took us inside the church of San Juan, completed by the Franciscans in 1617. “I think all the sculpting and carving was done by local people,” he told us, “and you’ll notice that most of the angels look like natives of San Juan.”
To my wife and me, several of those faces look very much like Martín’s, as a matter of fact.
The church of San Juan is definitely curious. First of all, it is right behind the town’s cemetery, “an old Franciscan tradition,” explained Martín. Those same friars, it seems, also decided that the church would incorporate both pre-Hispanic and Christian motifs. “The very design of the front of the building is a huge representation of Tlaloc, god of rain,” said Martín, “and everywhere you see the motif of flowers, a reminder that the town was originally called Xochitlán (the place of the flowers). You can also see serpents in several places, even a few plumed serpents. And long chains of symbols representing “Olin,” the wind, cover the outside walls.”
Getting back to the subject of pottery, Martín told us that about once a month he puts a sledgehammer and a pick into a wheelbarrow which he pushes out to the place where his great-uncle discovered the best sort of clay for modeling. We asked if we could tag along sometime and, in fact, one fine day in February, we joined him as he started out from the Plaza. After a few minutes, we left the sounds and sights of the town behind and headed into a wooded plain. Soon the track we were walking on turned into a long ribbon of churned-up dried mud.
“There are still plenty of wild animals out here,” Martín told us as we walked along, our feet producing a loud crunching sound. “Right there you can see coyote droppings and we have mountain lions, deer, possum, badgers, rabbits…you name it.”
Soon we arrived at a shady spot under the branches of a large tree. Here we left our picnic fixings, which we would have to earn by becoming miners for a while. Just next to the shade tree was an embankment and here Martín began to swing his pick, chipping away at the hard clay wall. I took my turn and soon we had produced a heap of hard, thin, clay wedges. “Now we have to break up the pieces,” he announced, “and the easiest way to do it is to dance on top of them.” We enthusiastically took turns rhythmically stomping until no big clumps were left, at which point we began pulverizing the clay with the small sledgehammer. As we did this, Martín told us about good and bad clay.
“What we have here is called barro canelo and it’s ideal for pottery, with good elasticity. My great uncle looked all over the place before he found this spot. Other kinds of clay were too sandy or had no consistency or would break after being baked.”
Having crushed the clay to the best of our ability, we sifted it through a fine mesh screen into a sturdy bag. The result was a very fine powder which Martín said was perfect. “At home I will add water to a little of this powder to make a ball and then I work it like dough, adding more and more powder until I get just the right consistency.”
Having fulfilled our mission, we had a picnic under the big shade tree and carried our load back to San Juan where we had expected to say our goodbyes and be on our way. “Oh no,” said Martín’s mother, “you have to try my tostadas first…and have a cup of this mango juice, made from the first fruits of the season.”
No sooner had we sat down to feast on these delights, than the door burst open and in came about seven people, a mix of Mexicans and Americans, carrying armfuls of food and drink. After exchanging greetings, we whispered to Martín: “We’ll be on our way now, to make room for your relatives.”
“Oh, they’re not relatives;” he replied, “they’re friends … like you.”
This is a price of fame and talent I had never thought about and I admire Martín Navarro even more for his ability to produce masterpiece after masterpiece in between visits by well-meaning journalists and admirers.
If you are not only an admirer, but also a customer, most days you can find Martín in his workshop at the north end of the Plaza de Artesanos, across from the church, but it’s best if you give him a call in advance at 37 53 00 18 (a Guadalajara number).
How to get there
From Guadalajara, take highway 54 south towards Colima. After 18 kilometers (at the Cuatas gas stations) follow the signs to Tlajomulco (a right turn which takes you onto a bridge crossing over the highway). Now drive about 14 kilometers southeast to a sign announcing San Juan Evangelista. Turn right and go 7.8 kilometers southeast to San Juan. If you’re coming from Chapala, take the airport road north to the Cajititlán Road and drive west toward Tlajomulco. As soon as you pass Lake Cajititlán, you’ll see a sign for San Juan Evangelista. Even easier, coming from the Lake, just drive west from Burritos de Moyahua Restaurant: it’s less than ten kilometers to San Juan! Martín Navarro’s workshop is at N20 24.221 W103 18.839, just east of the church. Driving time from the Guadalajara Periferico: about 40 minutes; less from the Lake Chapala area.