Las Castas Depravadas

As the influx of Spanish colonization became prevalent and seemingly irrevocable in Anahuac, the indigenous term for the land of modern-day Mexico that translates to “land surrounded by water”, so did the culture surrounding art and class. By the 18th century, the vast majority of Latin America was tainted with Spanish blood and traditions. As the full-blood indigenous population began to diminish, so did their representation within the government and high social classes. It was a Spanish man’s world, and any trace of Aztec or other native policies and views had been lost within the sea of mutilated and massacred native bodies. Naturally, this grand shift in power had led to a change in what was produced and why. The art that began to infiltrate Mexico was a unique one that had drastically affected how people would view the Americas for centuries to come. The 18th century was full of exciting new changes and “discoveries” for the Spanish, and to ensure that these “newfound” ideas and societal changes were being documented, it was imperative that they be captured. According to the preservation of certain artifacts, it is clear that the Spanish prioritized the class system of their people. They wanted the structure of their society—a society that took centuries of murder and enslavement to achieve—to go down in history as one of the most formulaic and ideal ways of living. The way they documented this structure was through the power of art. Pinturas de castas, otherwise translated as caste paintings, are works of art whose purpose was to showcase how people of different ethnicities, or in the case of visual art, blocks of color, were perceived in the quotidian. As appealing as these paintings are, their foundations lie deeply in the gruesome and eternally racist history and perspective of the 18th-century Spanish colonizers. 

The social composition of Mexico during the 18th century was strongly dependent on the caste system set in place during the Spanish rule. According to esteemed art historian and curator Ilona Katezew, who has conducted thorough research on the history behind casta paintings, the central aim of these pieces was to remind the vast mixture of people that had made up Mexico that this new way of living had to maintain order and follow a precise structure. Scholars estimate that approximately 100 sets of paintings, consisting of 16 individual paintings each, were produced during 1711 and 1780 (Katzew). Although initially created for members of the Spanish monarchy and other elites, many of these paintings would find their way back to Mexico (Carrera 53). Regardless of where the paintings were located geographically, they were all used for the same purpose: to instill power. Any person who possessed these artworks was of high social status and viewed them as a reminder of their success. It was rare for people of lower classes, who were perpetually people of color and mixed race, to have a chance to view these pieces at their own leisure. The elitist nature of these casta paintings not only limited their exposure but also ensured their success as a criterion for interracial living. As aforementioned, casta paintings would come in sets of 16 individual scenes. Each scene tried its best to capture a snapshot of living between two people of different or similar ethnicities. Each set would showcase a domestic view of a specific couple, occasionally accompanied by a child of their own. Generally, these paintings would start with an illustration of a Spanish man and an indigenous woman to depict an overall scene of purer, more European blood. As the paintings continued, each scene would, in a literal sense, become darker and more violent than its predecessors. The paintings that captured couples of color are ceaselessly more barbaric and suggest a drab way of living that was to be avoided. The ways in which these paintings were curated too implied the strongly accepted superiority complex living within the class of Spanish elites. Either showcased in horizontal rows or vertical columns, casta paintings were always curated in descending order, starting with the most Spanish couple first (Carrera 58). The word “descending” in this context evokes yet another power-related and close-minded rationale. The word descending inherently implies that each element in the group it addresses is of different levels of importance. The curatorial side of this history serves as yet another factor in the centralization of the Spanish race. The simple decision of which art is placed at the forefront of their interior design endows power in them and their art. But how does the art itself, outside of curation and its exposure, also contribute to the Spanish control of a narrative?  

There are two paintings in particular that provide many insights into the deeper, more corrupt intentions of the Spanish colonizers. Miguel Cabrera’s, De Español y Mulata; Morisca, casta painting created in 1763 and the anonymous painting titled De Negro y de India; lobo from the late 18th century both depict scenes of an interracial couple each with the female spouse being a woman of color. Miguel Cabrera’s painting captures a mixed-race woman of both African and Spanish descent and a Spanish man. Included in this painting are their two children playing around the kitchen table. Although both parents have a seemingly neutral expression, the unmet eye contact between them signifies more. As the wife looks at her husband and her husband looks off into the distance, a specific dynamic is set up. The message that lives within their eyes relays to audiences that the “Spanish man” (quoted for generalization) does not rely on anyone but himself and his own power to raise children (a concept as universal as parenting can be allegorical for the act of colonization and “parenting” indigenous people, which denotes them as adults, to be more Spanish). This can be supported by the two children finding comfort in being closer to him rather than their mother. Similarly, both children are highly reminiscent of their father, as proven by their skin and hair color. This painting completely disregards the mother of color to deem her unworthy of being a proper, proactive, more stereotypical Spanish mother. In De Negro y de India; lobo, a different narrative is being written. This particular painting depicts a violent scene between a Black man and his indigenous wife. Here, the Black man is illustrated to be hitting his wife with a wooden object. Amidst the movement that this painting skillfully captures, the wife and child both have horrified expressions on their faces. For reasons yet to be further dissected, their child slowly gets lost among the layers of his mother’s clothing and the violence happening around him. The gruesome, frightful depiction of this marriage is completely purposeful to exploit and dramatize an interracial relationship between two non-white people. Because these paintings were made for Spanish monarchs, they also served as records of life in the “New World”. Evidently, each of the paintings, regardless of the subjects’ proximity to full Spanish blood, deliberately oppresses the least Spanish of the characters. Scenes filled with disturbing details like this only reinforced any racist preconceived notions that the Europeans had. Additionally, it helped justify the need for colonization; casta paintings completely rewrote the indigenous and black livelihood with the sole intention of benefiting the Spanish. 

The same techniques and palettes utilized to embellish casta paintings with a wide array of lively colors and details were the very ones that lacked within the complexion of the subjects of color. El Museo de la Historia Mexicana, located in Monterrey, Mexico, is home to a vast collection of casta paintings from the time in which they flourished. Curated in a way similar to how they would have hung in the home of a Spanish elite, it becomes clear to audiences that there is more to these paintings than outdated social groupings. It would be inefficient and produce a lackluster understanding of the corrupted nature of the casta paintings by only focusing on one piece in particular. To use an accurate generalization, virtually all of the casta paintings produced during this time are fundamentally racist and bigoted. Other than the numerous societal and colonial issues that the casta paintings embody, the creation of the artworks at their very core is depraved. Upon a closer examination of the casta paintings, one can begin to notice the lack of color within some of the figures. To commence the analysis of the use of color in these paintings, the artistic representation of the African body must be studied. Much of the African art produced during this very time from its own nations and cultures was sculpture. Created with woodblocks and several variations of stone, each of their own representations of themselves contains life. Even with a lack of paint or access to different ways to depict color, their artwork humanized their bodies and captured their souls. Each meticulously crafted detail of these pieces was purposely intended to embodied life and spirit. However, when it came to how those same African people were represented in art that was not their own, this beauty is completely destroyed. The casta paintings strip the soul and life away from any character that is remotely of African blood with the ease of their own craft. Artists, who undoubtedly had access to resources like paint, materials, and skill, intentionally decided not to apply them to their depictions of Black people. Instead, these artists worked with a grayscale to paint them. There is an uncanny lack of human complexion in the Black people of casta paintings. This generalized decision is dire because it allows for the passive absorption of racism. If any person, from any time period, were to look at a casta painting that depicted a person of African descent, their brains would automatically detect a difference between that person and a Spanish person. What they might not realize is that this very difference, alongside the fact that people of color have been oppressed for centuries, not only tells a story of deceit but also of dehumanization. 

Unfortunately, the Black culture represented in casta paintings was not the only people to have been misrepresented. When studying 18th-century Latin America, the idea of indigenous people slowly became a conversation of mestizaje. A mestizo person is a person of both Spanish and Indigenous descent; however, as history ran its course, the number of indigenous people has considerably diminished. Therefore, the focus on full-blood indigenous people was forced to shift to mestizaje as mixed peoples were the closest trace to pure indigenous people that remained. Casta paintings play a large role in this concept as they capture the proof of its happening. The reason why the very first painting of these sets tended to be a marriage between a Spanish man and an Indigenous or mestiza woman was to idealize that specific pairing; Spanish-Mexican culture deemed it the best, as the most favorable mixture of the time. In turn, this glamourization would justify the raping and interracial coupling between the White man and the native woman. When applying this understanding to the casta paintings, other, more uncanny details begin to reveal themselves. The indigenous and mestizo people in the paintings are incessantly painted with unnerving characteristics. These subjects are depicted with either intense red or yellow undertones. This is not only a completely inaccurate depiction of their skin tones, but it is also limiting. They only use one color to capture an indigenous or mestizo person, while they have an array of complexions for the White characters. What feels like a taunt to audiences is the artists' complex use of vibrant color in the very same paintings. Referring back to the artwork De Negro y de India; lobo, the palette used on the surroundings of the couple, down to the very jacket that is worn by the Black husband is vivaciously colored and articulated. It is impossible to blame these decisions on skill or lack of resources because the painting itself testifies against that. Casta paintings are immoral at the molecular level, giving historians and scholars an accurate window into the mindset of a colonizer.

Casta paintings, alongside much of the art produced in colonial Latin America, are all part of a larger problem lying within misrepresentation. A decision as small as which color palette is used to depict a certain ethnicity could and has destructively affected how consumers of American art and history understand their own ancestry. Misrepresentations like the ones present in the casta paintings drastically shift cultural narratives, and have only assisted in the mass extinction of the history and memory we now have of the people indigenous to the land we inhabit. True stories and perspectives are lost within the paintbrushes and pencils of time and can only be amended through intentional and passionate activism. It is impossible to change what has already occurred in the past, but it is viable to ensure that no one narrative is being falsely manipulated to favor a certain perspective. Through art making and art curation, indigenous and Black voices can be heard and spread into the generalized comprehension of history, step by step. It took centuries for the Europeans to try and outsmart our ancestors, but we are known not to go without a fight.  

Works Cited

Brienen, Rebecca P. Joanna and Her Sisters. The University of Chicago Press, 2016.

Carrera, Magali M. Imagining Identity in New Spain: Race, Lineage, and the Colonial Body. University of Texas Press, 2003.

“De Negro y de India; Lobo.” Casta Painting, attributed to Anon., 18th century.

Katzew, Ilona. Casta Painting: Images of Race in Eighteenth-Century Mexico. Yale University Press, 2004.

“Miguel Cabrera’s, De Español y Mulata; Morisca.” Casta Painting, 1763.

“Virtual Tour.” Matterport, https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=JBCWC71rsr6. Accessed 7 Apr. 2025.