The history of the Panduro family is the history of Tlaquepaque itself, a name that translates from the Nahuatl as "place above clay land." It began with Pantaleón Panduro, a self-taught sculptor who possessed the uncanny ability to capture a person’s likeness after a single glance. Historical accounts recall the patriarch sitting in public squares, his hands and the wet clay completely hidden beneath a poncho, only to emerge moments later with a perfect miniature portrait of a passerby.
Graciela represents the fourth generation of this uninterrupted lineage. She began her apprenticeship at the age of five, watching her parents in the backyard of the family home. By the time she was six, she had sold her first piece—a small clay Christ—and for the last 50 years, she has refined the technique of barro policromado en frío. Unlike glazed ceramics, these pieces are fired and then painted with cold pigments, a method that requires a delicate touch and immense patience.
The creation of a single figure is a slow dialogue with the elements. Each piece must endure the cool, heavy dampness of the clay drying in the shade for three days, followed by another three days under the white heat of the Mexican sun. Only then are the figures committed to the brick kilns, where they bake for up to four hours. Graciela’s most recent undertaking, a series of 150 figures including scientists and teachers, follows the same rigid discipline her great-grandfather established in the 19th century.
While the world around Tlaquepaque has traded its mineral-rich hills for urban sprawl, the Panduro workshop remains a sanctuary of the old ways. Graciela now works alongside her siblings, focused on the survival of the craft. Her hands, often stained with the earth she shapes, carry the weight of a name that is housed in museums from Rome to Tokyo, yet her greatest concern remains the transmission of this knowledge to the next generation.