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70. Politician. Politician Matienso’s wife— /How well she knows her husband!/ He only has to say, “I think....”/ And she brings him food at once,
70. Politician. Politician Matienso’s wife— /How well she knows her husband!/ He only has to say, “I think....”/ And she brings him food at once,

70. Politician. Politician Matienso’s wife— /How well she knows her husband!/ He only has to say, “I think....”/ And she brings him food at once,

Alternate Titles
  • 100 Original Woodcuts by Posada
Artist (Mexican, 1852 - 1913)
Date1947
ClassificationsPrint
MediumColor woodcut
Dimensions3 1/8 x 2 3/4 in.
Credit LineGift of Jack Lord
Object number1973.92
46. Reminiscence. Who, on seeing what the present brings,/ Does not lament time gone by?/ Who is it who does not mourn/ That which time has taken away?
46. Reminiscence. Who, on seeing what the present brings,/ Does not lament time gone by?/ Who is it who does not mourn/ That which time has taken away?
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
84. Pretentious Coquette. The pretentious coquette/ Puts all she has in clothes./ In her Sunday best she’s off/ To the town square to glitter./ There she also helps the petty thieves/ Make simpletons of people./ Taking advantage of the shrubbery,/ They rob them of their money,/ Giving them their just desserts.
84. Pretentious Coquette. The pretentious coquette/ Puts all she has in clothes./ In her Sunday best she’s off/ To the town square to glitter./ There she also helps the petty thieves/ Make simpletons of people./ Taking advantage of the shrubbery,/ They rob them of their money,/ Giving them their just desserts.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
22. Politician. And, so, with abject hand/, I arrived, a great post to occupy;/ Was not I a good Mexican?/ I am laughing and ...that is all!!
22. Politician. And, so, with abject hand/, I arrived, a great post to occupy;/ Was not I a good Mexican?/ I am laughing and ...that is all!!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?
63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
An officer told me, "I get home after a drunk has spewed all over me and the wife says I stink, she doesn't want me near her. I smell of vomit, shit."
An officer told me, "I get home after a drunk has spewed all over me and the wife says I stink, she doesn't want me near her. I smell of vomit, shit."
Leonard Freed
1976
3. The Changing World. How hard living is! —/ Remember, brothers,/ That, before, hands were pure,/ Now, there are hands only.
3. The Changing World. How hard living is! —/ Remember, brothers,/ That, before, hands were pure,/ Now, there are hands only.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
37. The Bohemian. He deceives, who says on seeing me,/ “Here was a prize-winning artist.”/ I was only a Bohemian,/ Without even claws to scratch myself.
37. The Bohemian. He deceives, who says on seeing me,/ “Here was a prize-winning artist.”/ I was only a Bohemian,/ Without even claws to scratch myself.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
"She's not going to divorce him yet. She thinks he has another book in him."
"She's not going to divorce him yet. She thinks he has another book in him."
Mary Petty
1935
"She's not going to divorce him quite yet. She thinks he has another book in him."
"She's not going to divorce him quite yet. She thinks he has another book in him."
Mary Petty
n.d.
Image Not Available for 12. All Hallow’s Eve. At last the day of all the dead has arrive,/ On which they rejoice, replete with pleasures without number./ In place of sad mourning for ourselves,/ Let us, with laughs and pulque, go cry in our cups.
12. All Hallow’s Eve. At last the day of all the dead has arrive,/ On which they rejoice, replete with pleasures without number./ In place of sad mourning for ourselves,/ Let us, with laughs and pulque, go cry in our cups.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
76. The Grim Reaper. Come! Let’s flee!/ But no one can escape;/ Death has to be, / And some go more cheaply than the rest.
76. The Grim Reaper. Come! Let’s flee!/ But no one can escape;/ Death has to be, / And some go more cheaply than the rest.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947