Death Is Alive: Memory, Art, and Tradition in Mexico’s Day of the Dead

Death is alive—very much alive—in Mexican art. We see it everywhere: in murals that tell collective stories, in streets painted with vibrant colors, in music that accompanies processions, in altars blooming every November, and in the hearts of millions who, year after year, celebrate with love and respect those who left before us.

It’s no coincidence that death has such a visible, everyday presence in Mexican culture. José Guadalupe Posada drew La Calavera Garbancera, later renamed “La Catrina” by Diego Rivera, who painted her hand in hand with himself, strolling through Mexico City’s Alameda Park in his famous mural Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in the Alameda Central. Posada never meant to beautify death—he used the skull as a social critique of those who rejected their Indigenous roots to appear more “European.” Over time, though, that elegant skeleton became a symbol of national identity.

Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in the Alameda Central - Diego Rivera

In Mexico, death is not hidden away. We face it. We cry, yes—but we also honor it, embrace it, and even throw a party for it. Unlike what many believe, Día de Muertos is not a new tourist trend. It’s one of the oldest living traditions in the country, woven over centuries of Indigenous memory and religious syncretism.

When I was a child, my family made Día de Muertos a sacred day. Even if I was supposed to go to school, I didn’t. We would get up early, have breakfast together, and head to the cemetery with flowers, water, candles, and cleaning supplies. We didn’t just visit relatives—we also visited Don Ramón, an old man who lived with my grandparents. He wasn’t related by blood, but my grandparents opened their home and hearts to him, making him part of the family. In our culture, family isn’t just about last names. It’s about sharing life.

Our ritual was simple but meaningful: some of us cleaned the graves, my aunts arranged flowers, and when everything was ready, we gathered to pray. I still remember the sound of everyone praying together. As a kid, I couldn’t fully understand, but I could feel their presence. And yes—I also secretly waited for the moment to leave and walk down the “Calzada de los Muertos,” see the altars, taste traditional candies, and get a fruit shaved ice. I didn’t realize it then, but I was living one of the deepest traditions of my culture.

Day of the Dead in Sayulita

At different points in history, some authorities tried to erase this tradition in the name of “modernization,” encouraging foreign celebrations like Halloween. But they failed. Families kept gathering at cemeteries, altars kept being built, and artists—painters, muralists, filmmakers, musicians—kept giving death a louder voice. In 2008, UNESCO recognized Día de Muertos as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. But for us, it never needed validation: this tradition has always been a spiritual bridge between the living and the dead.

Mexican art has always helped keep this tradition alive. From Posada’s engravings to Rivera’s murals, from community altars to contemporary films, death is a daily companion. Each altar is a piece of art filled with symbols: the orange marigolds guide the spirits back home with their scent and color; candles light the way; food and pan de muerto welcome them back; water quenches their thirst after the long journey; and photos remind us of the people we love. There are stories that beautifully reflect this celebration.

I want to share with you a small selection of films and shorts that, in my opinion, capture the essence of the Day of the Dead from different perspectives:

• Macario (1960) is one of my favorite films. Shot in black and white, it tells the story of a humble woodcutter who shares his meal with Death itself. It reminds us that no one escapes their fate, but also that there’s dignity and humanity in facing it. 👉 Watch Macario

• “Coco” (2017), though a Disney film, captured the heart of our tradition. The creators came to Mexico to learn directly from communities. The marigold flower plays a key role, connecting the living and the dead. 👉Available on Disney+

• Then there’s “Y a ti, ¿quién te espera?” from Cerveza Victoria. It tells the story of Rogelio, a stray Xoloitzcuintle dog who finds a home. It hits close to home because my grandmother Esperanza used to tell me:“Be kind to dogs—they will help you cross the river when it’s your time to leave this world.”In Mexica (Aztec) tradition, Xolos are spiritual guides who help souls cross the river to Mictlán, the afterlife. 👉Watch the short

• Another short film, Tita, shows a woman preparing food for her altar. Many people wonder: do you eat the food after Día de Muertos? Traditionally, no. It isn’t thrown away either. It’s buried in gardens, because it’s believed the souls have already taken its essence. 👉Watch the short

• And finally, a series of television commercials from different Mexican brands show how this tradition has been represented from many angles, proving that Día de Muertos is not just folklore—it’s something that lives in everyday life. 👉 Watch on Youtube

Macario, Dir. Roberto Gavaldón, México, 1960.  

Día de Muertos is more than a date on the calendar. It’s an act of resistance against forgetting. It’s about looking back to honor those who gave us life and looking forward to keep their memory alive for future generations. Our grandmothers taught us how to arrange the flowers, say the prayers, build the altars, remember the names. They also taught us to treat animals kindly, to be grateful for what we have, and to laugh with death—because in Mexico, even death has a sense of humor. And as long as we keep celebrating, death will remain alive among us—not as a threat, not as something to fear, but as a part of who we are. Every marigold petal, every candle, every dish prepared with love is a way of saying: We have not forgotten you.

✚ In memory of Esperanza Ruiz Tejeda ✚

My grandmother Esperanza continued her journey in April of this year. But she lives in us: in her husband, her children, her grandchildren, her nieces and nephews, and everyone who loves and remembers her. Her legacy, strength, and love stay with us every day. By placing her photo on the altar, we invite her to be with us again, reminding us that Día de Muertos is, above all, a celebration of love that transcends life and death.