Sugarcoating Death

When evenings grow cool and a tree here and there turns orange, Southlanders haunt Angela Villalba’s lively museum-cum-knickknack shop in Studio City to learn the secrets of calaveras de azucar, the sugar skulls at the heart of Dia de los Muertos--Mexico’s Day of the Dead.

A curiously whimsical holiday--and one notably free of commercialism--Day of the Dead has been raising more and more spirits in recent years, points out Berta Torres Sosa, director of the nonprofit group Art in the Park. When she immigrated from Mexico 40 years ago, she said, the holiday was little noticed in Southern California.

Now face-painting tables, mock graveyards, pricey concerts and the like mark Day of the Dead at parks, museums and schools. Sugar skulls keep Villalba busy for weeks as she tutors adults and children in making and decorating the sweet, grinning icons of what awaits us all.

“After we’ve mourned [a loved one], Day of the Dead is a way to bring back the happy thoughts and feelings toward them,” said Villalba, a folk-art collector of Swedish heritage. “In the United States, we don’t have a cultural way of celebrating our dead ancestors.”

She recalled a trip to the Mexican state of Oaxaca 20 years ago when she fell under the spell of the gaily macabre holiday.

A strange amalgam of indigenous traditions and Roman Catholic influences brought by Spanish padres, Dia de los Muertos celebrations are concentrated where they began in the 16th century--in central and southern Mexico--where people believe their departed return for one day a year to visit the living, Villalba said.

Preparations stretch for weeks as each household dresses elaborate altars--ofrendas. Families buy sugar skulls from outdoor vendors and place them on the altars with gifts favored by the soon-to-visit spirits--special breads, toys, even cigarettes and tequila.

Festivities begin at midnight on Oct. 31 and continue for 48 hours with departed children honored the first day and adults on the second. The poignant remembrance of lost children is vividly illustrated by a particularly haunting image Villalba photographed one night. She shows her students--as part of a slide-show travelogue--a procession of kindergarten-sized papier-mache skeletons marching in frilly dresses and veils, a memorable display of affection from those who experience the deepest loss a parent can know.

For two days, the villagers feast, exchange gifts, sing and dance.

After watching and participating in Mexico for many years, Villalba opened her Studio City shop, Reign Trading Co., at 13055 Ventura Blvd., four years ago. The first year she taught three calaveras de azucar classes. This year she scheduled at least 14 plus workshops at schools and museums. She has a number of regular students, such as private school teacher Leigh Adams, who has taken Villalba’s class three times.

“I learn something different every time,” Adams said. “Day of the Dead supports curriculum growth in my own classes incredibly. It opens the door to so much language and culture instruction. The kids have really taken to it.”

Classes on Villalba’s spacious patio typically start at 6 p.m. with homemade tamales and margaritas. As she demonstrates the skull-making techniques, she shows slides and spins colorful folk tales as students linger, often until midnight.

The recipe for skull batter is simple, but working it takes practice. A small batch--enough to make five grapefruit-sized skulls--calls for 5 pounds of sugar, 2 tablespoons of meringue powder and about 2 tablespoons of water. The meringue powder gives the skulls a distinctly eggy bouquet. The proper mixing and kneading process is key, and the batter can be finicky--it often refuses to set up in humid weather.

The secret to making uniform skulls is Villalba’s plastic molds the size of walnuts, tangerines and grapefruit, priced from $8 to $10. The larger molds come with front and back pieces, and the two halves are held together with a special frosting that acts as a glue. After 48 hours of drying, the skulls are popped out of the molds, hollowed out and decorated with icing tinted with high-pigment food coloring, colored craft tinfoil, glitter and rhinestones.

“The fanciest are the most expensive,” Villalba said.

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She sells ready-made, undecorated skulls for $6, but skulls decorated by artisans fetch up to $80.

With her busy month of instruction almost behind her, Villalba is heading this weekend to Oaxaca for her 21st straight Dia de los Muertos. She looks forward to the hospitality and warmth of the residents. And she finds the rituals strangely moving.

“It’s become a spiritual time for me,” Villalba said, “that when I think of my relatives, think about death and if I’m on the right track.

“When you take time out and think about those things, and when you see how beautiful and spiritual Day of the Dead is, you get addicted to it really easily. That’s why it’s becoming so popular.”