DOWNEY — A giant altar of marigolds greeted festival patrons at this year’s Dia de los Muertos Festival. 

As the artistic focal point and the first thing you see as you enter from the Firestone side, the Downey Community Altar, Ofrenda a la comunidad de Downey, sits in the newly designed plaza that fronts the Downey Theatre, labeled for the day the Plaza of Memories, or, Plaza de Recuerdos. Downey families, with babies in prams, seniors on walkers and even dogs pulled in carts, came to enjoy the sunny afternoon. 

It’s Downey eighth Festival of la Dia de los Muertos, and marigolds are the signal flower. The fragrance of these bright orange and yellow flowers is said to lead souls on this day from their burial place to their family homes. And this day is above all a family time, to celebrate lives of ancestors, and to enjoy the life of today.

Cempasúchi is the Aztec name of the marigold native to Mexico, and they were everywhere. An art gallerygoer wore a hat brimming with marigolds, and artist Caroline Estrada-del Toro wore a long painted marigold metal necklace and earrings from Nyarit, her native state in Mexico.

The Plaza Altar was built by seventh generation altarista Rosanna Esparza Ahrens, the daughter and protégé of Ofelia Esparza, the grande dame of L.A. altar making. In it were placed family photos that Downey residents contributed, to make it a real ofrenda. 

Presented by the City of Downey and the Downey Theatre, the Festival this year featured an art show at the Downey Theatre, put on by the Downey Arts Coalition. Involving the Downey Arts Coalition was the idea of Festival co-producer and Downey Theatre Manager Amber Vogel Shaver, who reached out at the first Festival to suggest a partnership. The theater lobby spotlighted three large ceramic pieces by Jorge del Toro, featured artist for the show

Downey’s Festival is recognized as one of the Southland’s most outstanding, due in part to the indoor/outdoor setting, and also to the overall presentation that includes color-coordinated booths and decorations. The sky had cleared to a bright blue after rain earlier in the week, and the temperature was in the 70’s. The day that began with plumed Aztec dancers in the Civic Plaza would end with a ticketed performance in the Downey Theatre by the Mariachi Divas. 

“I’m Jorge’s greatest fan,” said his wife Carolina Estrada-Del Toro, pointing to a Certificate of Recognition. “State Senator Bob Archuleta was here just an hour ago and presented this to Jorge, from the California Senate, for being ‘an inspiration to all who view his creations.’” Alistair Hunter, also received a citation as president of the Downey Arts Coalition “on its 10th anniversary, for providing a place for artists to thrive.”

We rode the swift new glass elevator neatly tucked into the wall up to the Theatre’s balcony level and the Mezzanine Gallery, to see the rest of the art show. DAC Curator Andrew Hernandez assembled a wide variety of works, which includes Jorge del Toro’s pastels and smaller sculptures, as well as works from newcomers Wendy Hernandez and Maricela Avina.  

Pat Gil, project coordinator and vice president of the Downey Arts Coalition that presented the “Ofrendas” art show, pointed out that Hector Silva, Pinchi Michi, Carolina Del Toro, and Polaris Castillo were also included.

Ofrendas are said to be a bridge between two worlds, and the walls were decked with paintings, and a trio of painted and hammered repousse tin portraits that  shone in the light.  

Jorge was standing beside a ceramic piece of a tiny skeleton jaguar carrying on its back its prey, a large fully fleeced sheep, one of his many more pieces and paintings. “I love to do this,” Jorge said,” and I’m glad the community can see so many of my pieces today.”  

Jorge was wearing a shirt printed with tiny skulls and a necklace of gray beads with a carved jade skull, in honor of the day. Some of his works were too big to be fired in one piece, and had been fired separately and fitted together. Bringing them and setting them up for the one-day show must have represented a lot of man-hours. Wife Caroline stood nearby, lightly re-positioning the sculpture. 

The Gallery was a busy place. Frank Kearns stopped by to chat. And a dog walked by on a  leash, wearing a collar of marigolds as we descended in the same outside glass elevator with its view of the Plaza.. 

The theme of the exhibit was “ofrendas,” a term meaning offering or gift, usually refers to a home altar with a collection of objects placed on display during the annual and traditionally Mexican Día de los Muertos. The tradition is said to originate with the Aztecs, on the night when the spirits of the departed can pass freely between realms of the living and the dead. 

El  Dia de Los Muertos is a family affair, a celebration of life and a time to honor those generations that have already passed. That dancing skeleton in black lace mantilla and roses? She could be your abuela. That skeleton in a black top hat and cane? Tio Marco. 

Altars are intended to welcome back the departed, and most have candles and   pungent flowers like marigolds to help the spirits find their way, as well as their favorite food and drink and personal belongings. A glass of water,    because they will be thirsty after their long journey. The artists in the show showcased a variety of imagined returning spirits.

The traditional icon, the Calaveras Catrina, comes from a skull caricature drawn about 1910 by the Mexican illustrator Jose Guadalupe Posada. Posadas’s satiric version of high society, soon to be toppled by the Mexican Revolution, had figures, regardless of occupation, class or status, that were represented with skulls for faces. So skeletons are dressed in fancy turn of the 19th century finery.

In the Hispanic culture, children are not sheltered from the reality of death. Children attend funerals regardless of their age. Death is talked about openly. With these caterinas, youngsters are taught how to mock death. 

The Theatre lobby was brightly decorated with its colorful posters. On the patio live music was playing, and a beer and wine garden was open. Outside on the plaza again, families strolled through the pedestrian area that had been created in the parking area of the Civic Center. One promenade was for speciality food trucks, and the Taco Cartel trailer stood next to pupusas, French Crepes Bonaparte, and The Only Puerto Rican Food Truck in Los Angeles. Music from the Theatre patio driften over, and the city had thoughtfully provided picnic tables and benches.

In front of the newly reopened Downey Library, the Friends of the Library had placed carts of books, gently used, at bargain prices: 50 cents each, three for a dollar. Virginia Yoshiyama, president of the Friends, said the carts were filling and refilling. The bright tangerine-tiled façade of the Library fit perfectly with the colors of the day. 

Another avenue with the banner Mercado was lined with bright white pavilions sellings artisan jewelry and decorated tee-shirts. Calaveras y Diabiltos said another that sold skull masks. Most people dressed casually but many girls and women had caterina make-up, white face with sugar skull designs, and fancy floral gowns with ornate headdresses. Everyone was masked, except the tiniest.

A few children wore their Hallowe’en costumes, and Wonder Woman,  Superman and Spiderman pranced around. But the Dia de los Muertos is far from being a “Mexican Hallowe’en.” This same night before All Saints Day is also celebrated in northern Europe, as a time when spirits walk among the living, yes, but with  faceless, formless and frightening ghosts, creatures with no name and alien to humans. 

The altars are the heart of any Dia de los Muertos, and are composed with love, honor and respect.  Walking beyond the food and the mercado area, we find some outstanding examples of a special kind. In the parking lot area around the Legacy Church (formerly the First Baptist), were car altars. Built in opened car trunks and growing out onto the pavement, these were more concentrated and personal, with the floral arches and photos of the departed in happy times with stuffed toys and live balloons. The mood everywhere was festive and happy and still respectful. 

Back at the Embassy Suites side of the Theatre Plaza, families gravitated for picture-taking to a trio of giant caterinas made of papel maché. 

The three glamorous skeletal ladies, each easily eight feet tall, stood on a bed of marigolds, their skull heads wearing gracious hats, and one carried a black lace parasol. Toddlers were posing next to these extravagant figures, and one elderly lady was helped out of her wheelchair so she could stand beside them too.  

These grand ladies of the afterlife, the emblem of Day of the Dead, tie together the times and their interpretation of death. It has been said that their elegant dress suggests celebration, the smile reminding us that there is perhaps comfort in an acceptance of mortality, and that the dead should be commemorated, not feared. 

The marigold arches on the Theatre Plaza had little lights looped in them, and the scene would soon become enchanted in the evening. The stately palm tree trunks were festooned with garlands of marigolds and 5-ft. wide butterflies.

I left while there was still daylight, but the shadows were growing long over the Plaza of Memories, El Plaza de Recuerdos.