by Angeliska on November 3, 2011
Alas, this year’s flurry of activity and happenings left me entirely wrung out, and in a state of disrepair,
having been bogged down with whatever malaise has got everyone around me likewise gripped in its
throes. Thus, I find myself abed and click-clacking, rather than painting my face skullwise and taking a
krewe of deathly maidens and men out into this windy night to make the Día de los Muertos procession
I have long dreamed of. My cohorts in New Orleans have by now wended their way through the Vieux Carré,
and are now strewn along the riverside, keening low and long for our lost loves – for Flee, for Ray, for
them all. My death-work is undone, just begun. Much altar-building, preparing, writing and processing
remains for tomorrow, and into this dark season we’ve tiptoed into. For now, let these portraits of La
Catrina in her various incarnations serve as inspiration for All Souls’ Nights to come. Some of these
ladies are more sugary than others, some more bleak. All are sacred – death’s daughters, calaveras lindas.
Beautiful Catrina portrait by Mary Kuzmenkova
Amelia Foxtrot, also by Jeremiah.
This, and the next two photographs are all by John Rees.
I love this makeup my friend Liz did a few years back.
Death – Alexander McQueen
Further reading from November 2nds of yore: