What Happens When You Build a Hundred Kites!

Luis Pablo stands out as one of Oaxaca's most remarkable creators of alebrijes, his work instantly recognizable and deeply personal.

Next to each signature that Luis Pablo Mendoza puts on his alebrijes, there is a picture of a candle. He includes the image of the candle because he believes a candle should be in a high position so its light can spread throughout the room, a belief he got from a Bible passage his mother used to read aloud to him when he was a child in Oaxaca.

Every creation Luis Pablo shapes is meant to cast its own light, inviting you to place it somewhere meaningful in your life.
That sense of individuality—thoughtful, personal, and deliberate—shines through all his work, inspiring collectors to remain devoted to him for decades.

From Carpenter’s Son to Master Sculptor 

Luis Pablo was born on June 21, 1970, in a neighbourhood situated just outside the central area of Oaxaca City. His father, Martín, was a carpenter and his mother, María, was a homemaker. He was the youngest of ten children and the family were very poor. They had no toys, so Luis Pablo would take the broken ones that he found on the street and repair them using playdough, wires, rubber bands, orange peels and anything else he could get his hands on. 

When he was eight years old he carved a Venus de Milo from a piece of chalk.

When he wanted a kite, he built one himself, then crafted a hundred more until he perfected the design.

He once dreamed of becoming an engineer, but leaving school early led him through a string of ill-fitting jobs: car body shop assistant, house painter, DMV middleman, cell phone salesman. None of it felt truly his.

In 1993, a nephew who was employed in a handicrafts shop in Oaxaca told him about monos, wooden animal figures that were selling well.

Luis Pablo did not know what alebrijes were. So he took the machete from his father and the old pocket knife that he had come across, and carved his first puppies.

He carried his creations into the heart of downtown Oaxaca.

Every shop turned him away.

Still, he pressed on.

The long road to recognition

Those first years tested him; shopkeepers asked his name before even glancing at his work, and being unknown meant being invisible.
One afternoon, an American trader, seemingly lost outside the usual artisan districts, wandered past his home studio, peered through the window, and bought a dozen figures on the spot.

With that money, he bought his very first real paints and brushes.

The first person to tell him that his work had potential was a woman called Rocky Behr, who ran a folk art shop in the United States. Next were Carol Cross and Steve Custer from Chicago, who didn't just buy his artworks but also took photographs of them and helped to promote them to gallery owners. Thus the opportunity was opened.

n September 1997 a customer gave him a book, Arte Popular, Cinco Siglos de Tradición Artesanal, which had one of his baboons printed in it, and also told him that his work was being shown at the museum of the Colegio de San Ildefonso in Mexico City.

Then, everything shifted because of an unexpected accident.

After a serious hand injury, Luis Pablo switched from heavy blades to delicate, razor-sharp tools that required finesse over strength. During his recovery, he carved a dragon. When Cross and Custer saw it, they asked which gallery represented him. The answer was simple: none. It was just Luis Pablo.

What makes his work different

In the world of alebrije, the division of labor is normal practice: one artist carves while another paints. In certain workshops, the items go through numerous hands before finally bearing the signature of a single person, but Luis Pablo doesn't follow that practice.
Each figure that he produces, beginning with the first cut made in copal wood and ending with the final detail painted on it, is entirely the work of him alone; it is because of this that his output is limited. Since they buy his pieces, collectors know precisely what they are acquiring—a piece which, as he says, contains part of his soul.

His designs are almost always original; he produces them because it is necessary to avoid repetition if the work is to remain vibrant. He will repeat a piece only if a collector requests it.

Innovation is no easy feat. Creating five truly new pieces in a month is a triumph. He watches National Geographic, studies animal stances and gestures, and dreams up new figures late at night, rising in the morning to bring them to life.

By choice, Luis Pablo remains independent. He lives outside the famous woodcarving towns of San Martín Tilcajete and Arrazola, working alone, apart from artisan associations and government grants. This has cost him visibility, but it has given him creative freedom and a body of work unlike any other.

Dragons, baboons, and dancing anteaters.

If you ask Luis Pablo which figures he loves most, he will say dragons. Each one is unique, always evolving, always seen from a fresh perspective. His most requested pieces are baboons and raccoons—his classics, his signatures—but his range is vast. Once, a collector from Norway traveled all the way to Oaxaca just to commission a dancing anteater. Luis Pablo shares that story with clear delight.

His creations have journeyed to Germany, Japan, Spain, the United States, and far beyond. Museums collect them. He is invited to demonstrate his techniques both in Mexico and abroad. Now, he is exploring new media—clay and painting—and promises to unveil new work when the moment feels right.

The artist behind the candle

Luis Pablo does not dwell on the hardships he has faced. He had no formal training, no connections, no gallery, and no artisan community.

He built his reputation piece by piece, customer by customer, through years of rejection. The 2001 economic downturn after 9/11 cut off his main US buyers, and he struggled. When his marriage ended at the same time, his creativity faded for a while. He speaks about this with honesty.

Today, he is content. He shares his life with his partner, Reyna, and watches his children, Benjamin and Denisse, grow. He keeps none of his creations for himself, believing it would be selfish when someone else could cherish them.

The artists he admires most are Manuel Jiménez, Isidoro Cruz, and Abad Xuana, the founding figures of the alebrije movement, because their work has purity. He tries to carry some of that forward.

His figures are made to bring light into your home. He hopes you place them somewhere high, somewhere meaningful. That is the true purpose of the candle.

Click here to View Available pieces by Luis Pablo!