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The Modern Piñata Makers

By Ruthanne Johnson

Denver Urban Spectrum; May 2008

Denver’s piñata makers have been busy preparing for the Cinco de Mayo celebrations. Green, white and red piñatas are everywhere – dangling from ceilings, lining the shelves, and propped smartly in the windows of just about every carnicería, dulceria, piñateria, and local grocery store throughout Denver’s Latino neighborhoods. The traditional seven-point piñatas decorated in the colors of the Mexican flag are customary to celebrate the initial victory of Mexican forces over the French in 1862.

Intermingled among the green, white and red piñatas are an array of bright colors and unique shapes – hot pinks, baby blues and lemon yellows, some in the shape of burros and sombreros, others paying homage to

SpongeBob, Elmo and Dora the Explorer. The hundreds of piñatas hanging around town are proof positive that a tradition deeply rooted in Latino history, culture and religion is alive and well on Colorado soil.

“I remember making piñatas in school and at home when I was a little girl in Mexico,” said local piñata maker Maria Hernandez, who for the last six years has run the piñata business Dulceria La Estrella out of her home with the help of husband Marino and daughter Bianca.

“I lived in a small rural area where we made piñatas for celebrations of every kind, and holidays,” she explained, “for the children to break open for the candy inside on their birthdays, and to be filled with candy and

with feathers and filled with treasures to celebrate the year’s end. During the annual celebration, the decorated pot was broken with a stick, and the treasures tumbled forth at the foot of a statue of their war god, Huitzilpochtli, as an offering.

When the Spaniards arrived from across the ocean in the 16th century, their missionaries began stirring religion into the mixture of native customs as a way to Christianize the Indians. Mexico’s first documented piñata was hung by Augustinian monks at a church in the town of Alcoman during a December festival in which the Aztecs were celebrating the birth of their war god. In December 1587, the monks decorated the indigenous clay pots with colorful paper and ribbons instead of feathers for an outdoor mass held to coincide with the Indian holiday, and a new tradition was born.

“The tradition of the piñata is not only for fun,” Hernandez said. “The seven points on a star piñata represent the seven cardinal sins, like envy or greed, and when you hit one and it falls off, the sin goes out. You’re supposed to take the cone to feel relief from this sin and to be renewed.” The sweets inside represent heaven’s prize and the stick used to break open the piñata stands for the good that overcomes evil, she added.

For the Hernandez family, the business of piñata making began when their daughter was very young.

"We owned a small market on Federal and I didn’t want to buy piñatas from other people,” Hernandez said. “So, I started making my own, and people liked them. I started getting more orders, and it grew from there. Now we sell to businesses in Fort Collins, Boulder, Colorado Springs and all over Denver.”

Instead of using clay pots to hold the candy and prizes, most of today’s piñata makers use strips of cardboard formed over the shape of a hollow ball or a balloon (which is later popped to make room for the candy) and papiermâchéd with newspaper. To create the traditional seven-point piñatas, cones covered in colored metallic paper are stapled onto the outside of the ball. Mexican glue (a paste made from flour and water) is used to attach the approximately 150 buds of tissue paper that cover the majority of the ball. Tissue paper tassels are added to the cone points for an extra flair.

“Each piñata takes about two days to make, from constructing the base to the drying process and adding decorations – except in the winter when it takes two days for the piñatas to dry,” Hernandez said.

Other popular figures, such as Tweety Bird, Spiderman, race cars and mermaids, can initially take a few tries to perfect.

“When we create a new shape, it usually takes a while to get it right,” said Hernandez’ daughter, Bianca, “but once we get the shape worked out, they take about the same time to make as all the others.”

In addition to the more popular characters, Bianca said her family’s piñata company takes special orders of all kinds. Her mother remembers one man who special ordered a piñata of George W. Bush just after the Iraq War began.

“He was really angry about the war and didn’t care what it cost to make the piñata,” she said. “I guess it was his way to vent his anger.”

The Hernandez family makes thousands of piñatas each year for celebrations of every kind – birthdays, holidays, communions, baptisms, and bachelor and bachelorette parties.

“The traditional fillings are fruit and peanuts, but people can put just about anything in them,” Bianca said. “It just depends on the celebration.”

Hernandez said that although it took two years to start seeing a profit, after paying back the initial start-up costs for the business, both she and her husband now work out of their home so they can spend more time with their children.

“We make all of the piñatas out of our garage,” she said, adding that even her two youngest daughters help by sweeping up the garage floor after a day’s work. “This is a family’s business, something we want to grow and one day pass on to our children and grandchildren.”

Like other craftspeople in Denver’s small community of piñata makers, Victor Tapia learned the craft as a young boy living in Mexico. But unlike Hernandez, who learned at home and school, Tapia worked for a large piñata company when he was 13 years old.

“I paid attention to how the piñata makers made them,” said Tapia, who makes and sells about 400 piñatas a month in the Denver market. “Now it’s a family business. My dad and brother make all the parts and then put the piñatas together. My mother and little sister decorate them, and I deliver them to the stores.”

Explaining that the piñata business is a six-day-a-week business with hours sometimes stretching from six in the morning to eight at night, he said, “We take orders on Monday and deliver them Thursday through Saturday.”

Because of low and ever-shrinking profit margins on piñatas due to the rising cost of supplies, a livable income is dependent on mass production.

“People buy them in the stores for between $25 and $35. They don’t want to pay more than that for something they’re going to destroy,” he said.

Despite his craftsmanship in the art of piñata making, Tapia knows little of the tradition or history of the piñata. He does, however, know that Winnie the Pooh is one of his best sellers.

“I don’t think most people know the history of piñatas,” he said. “They buy them now because they like them, because they like the cartoons and it’s fun.”

Maria Hernandez agreed, “Most children no longer understand the meaning behind the tradition. But its something they should know and remember and pass on to their children.”