Lindsay Skedgell Photos
At Saturday's ULA-hosted fest.
Mill Street danced to life with jewel-painted faces, neon-colored skulls, and at least one hairless dog and its golden-spike-crowned owner, as over 100 people gathered for Fair Haven’s annual Día de Muertos parade.
That was the scene Saturday at a warehouse at 26 Mill River St. for a “Day of the Dead” event organized by Unidad Latina en Acción (ULA). That was just one of at least two such events to take place in Fair Haven on Saturday, with the Semilla Collective also hosting a Día de Muertos celebration at Bregamos Theater off of Peck Street and Blatchley Avenue.
The back parking lot of 26 Mill St. Saturday evening was full of people in traditional dresses, faces painted with jewels framing their eyes and cheeks, getting ready for the parade. Behind them, a float was being set up, the flat bed of the truck that carried it lined with painted skulls in neon pink, green, orange, and blue. Around the float a hairless dog whose leash was colorfully woven walked enthusiastically with its owner, whose head was adorned with a golden spiked headband.
Inside the white warehouse space, an altar was laid out and collectively built at the entrance, a deer skull in the middle of the floor surrounded by lit candles, bread, tables bordered by apples, marigold flowers, and photographs of loved ones who had passed. Faces were being painted in bright paint and puppets lined the walls of the room.
Saturday’s parade and festival in Fair Haven marked the 12th annual event organized by ULA, held to celebrate Mexican and indigenous cultures in New Haven and to honor the deceased. The Day of the Dead is a holiday to remember those who have passed, often involving puppets, altars, offerings and gifts, and vibrant storytelling to pay respect to the deceased.
“This is my husband who passed,” said Joelle Fishman, gesturing toward a tall puppet built in honor of her deceased husband, Art Perlo. He wore a black “People & Planet Before Profits” shirt, his hat, glasses, and mustache placed beautifully to mirror him. “I’m carrying on for the both of us,” Fishman stated. Perlo, who was a lifelong activist, passed away last year.
Just before the parade began, one of the organizers, who wore a red string light-framed skeleton mask, summoned everyone to line up outside. People rushed to get their puppets and outfits in order to head outside and line up in the street. “My mom’s painting her face,” one parade participant said, holding a “No Human Is Illegal” sign while she expressed her readiness and excitement to join the parade. In the warehouse, women with maracas, one of whom wore a deer mask, made their way to the exit, as did others whose dresses were made entirely of carefully arranged balloons.
As everyone positioned themselves in the street, the skeleton-masked organizer rode up and down the length of the group on a bicycle, its front wheel spinning rainbow lights. The parade began. Music from cars, the sound of maracas, and a man sounding a lone trumpet became interwoven. The collective energy was electric and celebratory, at one point everyone clapping to the music’s rhythm. A man in a Mask costume skated on rollerblades through the parade’s middle, waving a Mexican flag. Lights from the wings of butterfly costumes lit up the street.
As over 100 people danced around stopped traffic and empty residential streets, residents watched from their porches and opened front doors. While the parade made its way through Fair Haven, onlookers joined in spontaneously and danced from the sidewalk. The parade was a community-driven, open celebration for the living to remember loved ones who have gone.
“Last year we were driving around and stumbled into this. We came back this year,” one paradegoer recalled, after the parade had brought over 100 back to the 26 Mill St. warehouse space. There, the community ate, danced, honored the dead, and celebrated life.