Columns

In Mexico, nearly 50 years ago, Jocotepec photographer John Frost and I traveled to distant, tiny pueblitos, photographing well-trained horses, and experimenting with borrowed, clearly unfamiliar, tractors.

Horses. When living in the United States, my wife and I planned to come to Mexico early in 1960. I had encouraged some Army buddies to come to Los Angeles, after mustering out – where I’d lived before my induction. 

John Frost (no longer with us) was an impressively talented – and hard working – photographer of all things Mexican. He also had a keen eye for things distinctively rural.

A Spanish settler’s repeated attempts to find a satisfactory physical location was only part of its marred, repetitive attempts to drive down permanent roots.

In the 1500s, sealed off by mountains on both the east and west of the thinly explored “northern Mexico,” the arid desert-like central altiplano was the ancient home of the Nahua, Otomi, Huichol, Cora, Tepehua and Coyutec Indians.  

Many habitual, devoted readers wonder how “book burners” manage their destructive habit.