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[A drunk and his loved one]
[A drunk and his loved one]

[A drunk and his loved one]

Alternate Titles
  • from Dance of Death
Artist (Mexican, 1852 - 1913)
Date1964
CultureMexican
ClassificationsPrint
MediumElectrotypes (relief engravings)
Dimensions4 x 3 1/2 in
Credit LineGift to the museum
Object number1975.090.1
Image Not Available for Dance of Death
Dance of Death
José Guadalupe Posada
1964
#2 [A policeman and prostitute]
#2 [A policeman and prostitute]
José Guadalupe Posada
1964
#3 [A street scene]
#3 [A street scene]
José Guadalupe Posada
1964
#4 [The lovers quarrel]
#4 [The lovers quarrel]
José Guadalupe Posada
1964
32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.
32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
94. Calavera of the Policeman. So strict in vigilance,/ So rigorous in duty,/ That he passed scoundrels by./ They made his job a good one!/ This, then, is the bony one;/ He ran this way and that./ And today the only sound he hears is,/ “Rest in peace, amen.”
94. Calavera of the Policeman. So strict in vigilance,/ So rigorous in duty,/ That he passed scoundrels by./ They made his job a good one!/ This, then, is the bony one;/ He ran this way and that./ And today the only sound he hears is,/ “Rest in peace, amen.”
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
19. Portrait of a Teacher. Martyr to teaching!/ He taught me well—/ Doctor! Artist! Learned Man!/ In his day there were teachers!
19. Portrait of a Teacher. Martyr to teaching!/ He taught me well—/ Doctor! Artist! Learned Man!/ In his day there were teachers!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
8. Calavera of the Barber’s Razor. With dull tin-plated razor,/ Raspy as a hog’s back,/ All his customers Don Nachinto shaved and scraped./ But a Saturday came/ When swift Death/ Undesignedly changed it for me/ To a barbecue of bones.
8. Calavera of the Barber’s Razor. With dull tin-plated razor,/ Raspy as a hog’s back,/ All his customers Don Nachinto shaved and scraped./ But a Saturday came/ When swift Death/ Undesignedly changed it for me/ To a barbecue of bones.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
57. Hallowe’en Imp. Oh! My, my! Here comes Death!/ Everyone it seizes! My luck is short!/ I don’t believe Death even spares his mother!
57. Hallowe’en Imp. Oh! My, my! Here comes Death!/ Everyone it seizes! My luck is short!/ I don’t believe Death even spares his mother!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
75. The Editor’s Reward. Having given us his best,/ He gets only criticism;/ Better— he should hear/ The heavenly flutes of angels.
75. The Editor’s Reward. Having given us his best,/ He gets only criticism;/ Better— he should hear/ The heavenly flutes of angels.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
95. Sharp Trader. Speak not of “honesty”;/ All talk through their hats— / And so do you!/ Let the buyer beware.../ One must live,/ And, you are a cheat!
95. Sharp Trader. Speak not of “honesty”;/ All talk through their hats— / And so do you!/ Let the buyer beware.../ One must live,/ And, you are a cheat!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
15. The Jurist. “The law imparts justice,”/ Says the gowned-one with aplomb./ But, oh! how justice is unhinged,/ When you haven’t got the price.
15. The Jurist. “The law imparts justice,”/ Says the gowned-one with aplomb./ But, oh! how justice is unhinged,/ When you haven’t got the price.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947