THE TRINITY: DEER, CORN & PEYOTE

“They’re saving humanity through their art,” the gallery owner said. He lovingly held up a small, beaded figurine — a brightly colored deer. The intricate beadwork, embedded on the wooden form with beeswax, formed patterns and symbols. A star appeared on its forehead, a sun upon its nose, a scattering of white flowers, and a large scorpion on either flank. “Each symbol, the deer itself, are part of their religion,” he told me. “They take some peyote and see visions of what to create so their gods will smile on them and on all who see their art.”

On Thursday nights in San Jose del Cabo, Mexico, the town hosts a gala “Art Walk.” I’d wandered off the main street and into a small side gallery. I immediately felt like I’d stumbled into a magical land filled with fantastical creatures. Elaborately beaded animals — giraffes, horses, deer, geckos, elephants, jaguars, snakes — populated walls, shelves, and floor. A large entwined sun and moon shined down on me. A two-foot tall steer’s skull, ala Georgia O’Keefe, commanded one wall. The animals came in a wild variety of sizes. Some creatures stood three feet tall; some fit in the palm of my hand. Like the deer, beaded patterns of flowers, rainbows, animals, reptiles, sun and stars covered every inch, from snout to tail. I’d never seen anything like them.

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The gregarious manager showed me his favorite pieces and told me about the people who made this art — the Huichol people who live in the rugged mountains and remote villages of the western states of Jalisco and Nayarit, Mexico. Because of their isolation, the Huichol culture remains the most intact of any indigenous group in Mexico. Their religion revolves around the trinity of deer, corn and peyote. The deer, a symbol of fertility, is the most sacred animal. Corn, the source of life, was given to them by the mother of all gods. Peyote is their means of communication with the gods. Each year, they make a pilgrimage to the desert of San Luis Potosí, where they believe they originated, to gather peyote for their ceremonies.

Most of the artwork in the gallery, like the little deer, consisted of plastic beads covering carved wooden forms or boards. A few had gourds as the base. “Each piece,” the gallery owner told me “is created by hand, pressing the tiny beads into wax.” In older times, the Huichol used shells, stones, seeds, bones, and coral to decorate their figures. While commercial beads, first glass and now plastic, have replaced the natural elements, the traditional meaning of their art remains the same. Each symbol represents a hope or benediction — a snake promised good rains, a scorpion protected one from poison, the five-petaled white flower brought good fortune.

Like me, most tourists first encounter the Huichol culture in the galleries and shops of Los Cabos or Puerto Vallarta. Selling their art commercially provides an important source of income for the Huichol people, but also helps fulfill their hopes for humankind. Recently, international galleries have awakened to the beauty and power of the Huichol vision. Their art now appears in museums in Mexico City, San Diego, Paris, and London. One special little deer lives on a shelf in my home.