TYPOGRAPHY
Rótulos Bautista
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WORDS BY SEBA ACAMPANTE
Before a city can be read, it must first be seen. Its language appears in the painted letters above a market stall, the illustrated promise of a cold beer, the name of a neighborhood tortería, or a phrase handwritten across the back of a passing truck. These images do more than identify a business or advertise a product. They establish a visual rhythm, one that belongs to the streets and the people who move through them. In Mexico, sign painting has long occupied this space between necessity and expression, where commerce becomes culture and the everyday acquires its own unmistakable aesthetic.
In Villa de Etla, Oaxaca, this language has been passed down through the hands of the Bautista family. What began with a grandfather’s mastery of the brush continued through Arturo Bautista, who discovered sign painting in the late 1970s and officially established Rótulos y Dibujos Bautista in 1983. Without formal art-school training, the family developed its visual vocabulary through practice, observation, experimentation, and the demands of its clients. Their education unfolded on painted surfaces, in the company of other artisans, and through the accumulated knowledge of generations. For them, the brush was never simply a tool of the trade. It was a means of making a living, interpreting the world, and leaving something behind.
Arturo Giovanni Bautista Rojas, the family’s second generation of sign painters, grew up inside this world. As a child, he watched his father paint fabric banners with acrylics, laying down diluted strokes before reinforcing the contours of each letter. His earliest participation was play: retracing the shapes his father had already made, learning how a flat brush could produce thick verticals, delicate horizontals, rounded edges, and seemingly endless variations of form. Through repetition, he began to understand the architecture of letters, discovering that typography was not merely something to read but something to construct, inhabit, and feel.
That early fascination would become the foundation of his artistic practice. For Bautista, a letter is a shape that can be broken down into modules, yet its final character depends on something less easily measured: the person behind the brush. A stroke may bend slightly, a terminal may soften, or a drop of paint may interrupt an otherwise disciplined contour. These imperfections are not errors to be corrected. They are evidence of a gesture, traces of the time, pressure, and feeling required to bring a form into existence. In a culture increasingly accustomed to the precision of digital production, such details preserve the singularity of the handmade.
The streets of Oaxaca offer an expansive classroom for this way of seeing. Mexico’s culinary traditions, neighborhood markets, roadside businesses, and informal economies generate a visual environment in which color and lettering compete for attention while remaining deeply connected to their surroundings. A butcher seeks a sign that will stand out among neighboring vendors. A juice seller uses saturated colors to suggest refreshment. Along the coast, illustrations of crabs and shrimp emerge from the local relationship between food, landscape, and livelihood. Each commission presents a practical challenge, but together they form a collective visual language shaped by regional identity.
Within this language, humor and nostalgia are essential. Business names become miniature stories; illustrations communicate through exaggeration; familiar expressions carry religious, cultural, and emotional associations. The resulting graphics are immediate and accessible, designed to be understood by someone passing on foot or driving by at speed. Yet their apparent simplicity conceals a sophisticated visual intelligence. A sign painter must know when a word is sufficient, when an image strengthens its meaning, and how color, contrast, scale, and composition can make a message legible in an instant. The work demands improvisation, but improvisation itself becomes a discipline refined through experience.
For Bautista, preserving this tradition does not mean keeping it frozen in time. The arrival of vinyl, printed banners, and digital production displaced much of the manual labor that once defined the trade, threatening to erase not only particular techniques but also the visual diversity they produced. His subsequent studies in graphic design and typography offered a new vocabulary for understanding the work he had known since childhood. Looking through his family’s photographic archives, he recognized familiar design principles in his father’s lettering, including forms reminiscent of Bauhaus typography. But the resemblance was only a starting point. The brush introduced rounded terminals, irregular contours, and subtle variations that transformed the borrowed structure into something distinctly personal.
This realization opened another horizon. Traditional sign painting could move beyond the storefront and enter galleries, contemporary design, and other cultural contexts without severing its relationship to the street. Familiar phrases could be reconsidered as metaphors; commercial graphics could become conceptual compositions; inherited references could converse with the cartoons, comics, and cultural imagery of a younger generation. What mattered was not abandoning the original language, but discovering what else it might say.
To carry these signs into new spaces is therefore an act of continuity as much as reinvention. Each painted surface holds the memory of a place, the imagination of a family, and the accumulated gestures of artisans whose contributions have shaped the appearance of Mexican cities. Their work reminds us that visual culture does not belong exclusively to institutions or formal histories of art. It is also made in workshops, markets, and streets, through the ordinary exchanges that give a community its identity.
At Rótulos y Dibujos Bautista, the brush continues to move between these worlds. Every letter carries something inherited, something observed, and something yet to be discovered. Its shape may be planned, but its final expression remains open to the hand. And in that small, irreproducible difference between one stroke and the next, a family tradition finds the possibility of another life.
Q&A
INTERVIEW BY:
SEBA ACAMPANTE
SA: Can you tell us about your family’s history with sign painting and how Rótulos y Dibujos Bautista first began?
RB: My name is Arturo Giovanni Bautista Rojas. I am from Villa de Etla, Oaxaca, and I am the second generation of sign painters in my family. My family’s legacy began with my grandfather, and later, my father developed an interest in continuing to draw and exploring different paths related to painting. During that search, he discovered sign painting.
He was captivated by the shapes and drawings involved in the craft. Sign painting involves illustration, so to speak, and lettering in a very spontaneous way, because every sign carries the essence of the person behind it.
He eventually arrived at a workshop and was captivated by the magic of lettering, seeing the colors, the different forms of typography, and the shadows. Through that experience, he began his journey as a sign painter in the late 1970s. Then, in 1983, he officially opened his first workshop under the name Rótulos y Dibujos Bautista.
SA: Personally, what was it about urban typography that impacted you, and how did it become the central focus of your artistic practice?
RB: For me, letters are shapes that develop into modules. I grew up in my father Arturo Bautista’s workshop, almost as a form of play, because I would go there as a child, curious to see what was being made.
I think having the privilege of growing up in an artistic family or environment gave me the tools I needed. I was constantly exposed to painting without limitations, without someone telling me not to get paint on myself or not to paint somewhere because it would get dirty.
The workshop was a fairly large, spacious place. During my childhood, we painted a lot of banners. Before the arrival of canvas signage and vinyl, hand-painted fabric banners were our bread and butter. These banners were made from fabric painted with acrylics using what we call a wall brush, a hard brush with stiff bristles.
The first strokes were made with diluted paint, and then the letters were outlined and reinforced. My work, or rather my game, was to retrace those letters. As I did that, I began to understand the morphology of each letter, its structure, and the different styles it could take.
Some letters required two brushstrokes to simulate the thicker sides, followed by a single stroke, or a half-width stroke, made horizontally to create thinner edges.
That was something truly surprising to me, because with a single, flat brush, you could create an endless variety of shapes. That fascinated me. I think seeing those forms already painted in different places and witnessing the diversity they could generate was what really captivated me.
SA: Many traditional signs are generally created by artisans working in neighborhood businesses or markets. How do you feel about honoring this tradition while bringing it into contemporary art and design contexts beyond the boundaries of your own city?
RB: I think that, in a way, I see it as a way of honoring my family, from my grandfather to my father, because they have been masters of the brush without ever attending art school. They developed their skills along the way.
Having this way of life, sign painting essentially became a way of life for us, because my father started working in the trade at a very young age.
As you mentioned, bringing it to new mediums and platforms, and elevating sign painting and popular graphics through these new contexts, is important to me.
I think the urban landscapes created by sign painting in different cities are incredibly beautiful. For me, whenever I see this kind of work, it evokes a sense of nostalgia.
Sometimes I bring these influences to other countries, too. Being in new places and different contexts gives me a way to tell people where I come from, share my story, and express how I see a place and what inspires me, so to speak.
It is also connected to how I grew up, because I have been seeing these letters since I was very young. I think it makes me feel very proud, knowing that sign painting will not disappear across generations. Preserving it and taking it toward new horizons is a way of ensuring that it continues.
“For me, letters are shapes that develop into modules. I grew up in my father's workshop, almost as a form of play, because I would go there as a child, curious to see what was being made. I think having the privilege of growing up in an artistic family or environment gave me the tools I needed. I was constantly exposed to painting without limitations.”
SA: You just mentioned two things that I think open up some interesting questions. One is that signs reflect the everyday life of a city. We have just seen that in the food and the markets. How does the city influence your signs and your work? Could you talk about Oaxaca or Mexico City?
RB: In general, Mexico has a very rich gastronomic culture. I like to approach the subject from that perspective, because sign painting is closely connected to Mexican gastronomy and traditional trades.
I think one of the main things that influences me is my city. Oaxaca is a state with an incredibly rich culinary culture, with a diversity of recipes and culinary knowledge. I am talking about different kinds of cooking, from community kitchens and wood-fired cooking to the kitchens of our grandparents and the ways they used to prepare their food.
I think all of this is closely connected to the artistic work we do and to what inspires me.
Throughout Mexico, different states have very distinctive gastronomic elements that are reflected in their sign painting and lettering. For example, Guadalajara, Mexico City, Mérida, Oaxaca, and Veracruz all have culinary traditions connected to their particular cities and contexts. These traditions stem from different things, whether cooking or fishing, and they are incredibly important because they give rise to very distinctive visual languages.
For example, along the coast of Oaxaca, we have had the opportunity to work on projects, and those signs take on the flavor and character of the local gastronomy. The illustrations might incorporate crabs, shrimp, and other elements, leading to an explosion of graphics that these environments inspire in us.
I think that is what has such a strong influence on our daily practice. Being surrounded by this diversity of food stalls is inspiring. When you walk down the street or through a market, it feels like entering paradise. That is how I see it.
Suddenly, the butcher wants to make a bigger sign to stand out among all the other vendors in the market. Meanwhile, the person selling tortas or juices is doing the same thing. It becomes an exquisite mixture of colors and shapes, and all of that translates into the work we do every day.
SA: Great answer. Speaking of flavors and colors, there seems to be a connection between the two. How do you approach color when constructing a composition?
RB: We think about color very much in terms of contrast.
I think there are many different surfaces associated with sign painting, including cold surfaces such as sheet metal and other metals. When working with these materials, we approach color from the perspective of making it eye-catching, first and foremost through contrast.
We also think a lot about gradients without tonal transitions, which is something we incorporate into our work. Primary colors are the foundation of our palette, but from there, we move toward warmer or cooler tones, depending on what we want to represent in a piece or an advertisement.
It is a combination of different approaches, because the workshop's work has always focused on elevating popular graphics while also paying close attention to how colors are combined. I think we are very meticulous about this. We have a palette that draws on Mexican folklore, which I believe is strongly inspired by the old muralist movement. That is how we approach color.
SA: And when talking about sign painting, what did you call it? Traditional?
RB: Yes.
“We think about color very much in terms of contrast. Primary colors are the foundation of our palette, but from there, we move toward warmer or cooler tones, depending on what we want to represent in a piece or an advertisement. We have a palette that draws on Mexican folklore, which I believe is strongly inspired by the old muralist movement.”
SA: Traditional sign painting was designed to be immediate and understandable to anyone passing by on the street. How does that idea of accessibility influence the way you approach visual communication?
RB: We have been talking about traditional sign painting, a practice that has existed for many years. Although it is a form of communication, that is precisely how sign painting originated. It emerged from the need to advertise something, to communicate. It is a visual system that gradually developed to give a business its identity, advertise something, or simply communicate a message.
Ultimately, in Mexico, it developed into a graphic language, so to speak. I think that, both broadly and specifically within Mexico, a very interesting visual language emerged, one that incorporates everything from graphic humor to imagery that is easy to digest.
You might walk up to a stand selling delicious carnitas or a tire repair shop and see these large illustrations that even evoke a sense of humor. They might depict someone changing a tire or capture the desire to refresh yourself with an ice-cold beer. I think these signs evolved precisely around this idea of being immediate and easy to understand.
Sign painting incorporates humor in a very important way, combining it with visual communication and even playing with a certain tension or irony.
I think the names of businesses in Mexico are also very immediate. Take Lavandería La Burbuja Feliz (The Happy Bubble Laundromat), for example. The name communicates something humorous while also conveying a sense of familiarity and cultural knowledge. I think these names are very easy to recognize, as are the illustrations and colors.
Religion is another very important element. In this sense, signs express these sentiments through phrases. I think they reflect that distinctly Mexican feeling, that sense of nostalgia. Phrases such as “Señor, ruega por nosotros” (“Lord, pray for us”) are deeply embedded in the graphics we see on trucks and buses. They are part of everyday life for Mexicans.
In some cities, this type of graphic language is more prominent than in others, but I think we are surrounded by these visual images. Today, we try to bring them into contemporary graphic design as well, referencing those advertisements without losing sight of the fundamental purpose of sign painting: communication, along with that rich visual language of lettering and accessible, easy-to-understand advertisements.
In sign painting, there is that distinctive flavor, that exquisite quality we associate with graphic humor. Spontaneity is also deeply reflected in the personality of each master, each artist. In our case, I think it comes from our family. My grandfather was quite playful and funny, and I think he expressed that personality through his love of drawing everyday life, the things that happened around him. He passed that quality on to my father, and I think it is something that is very much a part of us.
We are always thinking about a joke or a phrase, something closely tied to our family. We often draw inspiration from expressions, and I think that has contributed greatly to the richness of our work. Whenever we see something or come across a business, we are already thinking about what we could improvise or propose in the form of a phrase. It might be something nostalgic, something funny, or something more playful.
We try not to go in the direction of labor, a form of Mexican double entendre or suggestive wordplay. Instead, we lean more toward nostalgia. I think we represent all that humor, so to speak, that has been passed down through our family in the work we create.
There is a great deal of improvisation in Mexican sign painting, partly because the artists are sometimes in a hurry. A client might say, “Maestro, just put something there. It’s a tortería called El Grillo,” for example. The first thing that comes to mind might be Pepe Grillo, or Jiminy Cricket. So you think, “Oh, I can draw him running with a torta, or maybe have him pulling a torta out of his hat.” That is how our collective imagination works, and it is reflected in the pieces we create.
”In sign painting, there is that distinctive flavor, that exquisite quality we associate with graphic humor. Spontaneity is also deeply reflected in the personality of each master, each artist. My grandfather was quite playful and funny, and I think he expressed that personality through his love of drawing everyday life, the things that happened around him.”
SA: Do you think this connection to place and culture allows sign painting to contribute to the visual identity and collective memory of Mexican cities? How would you describe that dialogue with a city’s collective memory?
RB: Absolutely. I think the dialogue with a city and the collective memories of each place is enormously influential.
For example, we are based in Oaxaca, so we have our own culture and established visual references. We apply these to different situations and projects that clients bring to us.
Our pieces have increasingly moved toward an artistic direction, something we have been developing for several years. Nevertheless, we have never completely abandoned the communicative relationship with the city or turned away from it altogether.
Every sign painter in Mexico has contributed to that collective imagination. Mexico’s urban landscape is something that is unlike anything else in other countries. Why? Because there has been a great deal of freedom here.
As I mentioned at the beginning, I never had limitations when it came to painting, undoing something, erasing it, or getting covered in paint all over again. I grew up in a workshop, and I loved experimenting with these materials.
Similarly, I think there is a great deal of freedom in Mexico when it comes to public space. For example, dance events are advertised on walls along highways, and there are no real limitations on the space available. There are no restrictions on the colors we can use, either.
In other cities around the world, there are many regulations or clearly defined boundaries that prevent you from intervening in public spaces. In this respect, I feel that Mexico is a place where these surfaces are constantly being transformed. This intervention happens every day and has become part of our urban landscape.
SA: I love that. Traditional signs are generally designed for very specific urban contexts and city environments. How does the message or relationship change when you bring sign painting into galleries or contemporary art spaces, as you are doing by expanding its boundaries?
RB: We always try to approach our work by recovering elements of what we used to do in traditional sign painting, which was primarily focused on businesses, and then finding ways to reinterpret them.
I think nostalgia plays a part in this, along with the fact that we belong to a new generation with new references, from cartoons to comics.
For example, my father's generation was very familiar with Kaliman and all the phrases that character used. He grew up with those references, and I think they are reflected in his work.
But how can we make this contemporary? How can we bring sign painting into an artistic practice? I think it involves combining these different cultural backgrounds that we both carry and using them to develop a new proposal.
We do not abandon the phrases or the references to businesses that were so obvious and directed toward a specific audience. Instead, we reinterpret them.
For example, phrases painted on trucks really resonate with me as something we can take and think about differently. We might use expressions such as “Como es arriba, es abajo” (“As above, so below”) or “Me ves y sufres” (“You see me and suffer”).
These phrases emerged in a previous generation, but we can adapt them to a new context. We can explore them more deeply and present them in new formats.
I think that also gives them a different character. It allows us to approach them from another perspective and consider how a phrase or a word can trigger ideas that go beyond simple humor and lead us toward something more conceptual.
That is how we approach our work, in a very metaphorical way.
SA: Wonderful, I love that. It makes a lot of sense, especially with the conceptual freedom that art allows in this context.
RB: Yes, absolutely.
”We do not abandon the phrases or the references to businesses that were so obvious and directed toward a specific audience. Instead, we reinterpret them.”
SA: When do you decide that a piece should focus on lettering, and when should it focus on characters or images?
RB: Each piece carries its own essence, so to speak. But I think some pieces stand out because we try to make the sign, as we were discussing earlier, easy to digest. The phrase or word itself can express everything we want to communicate through the shapes or typography we choose to use.
Sometimes we decide not to use an image at all. However, often, or even most of the time, we incorporate an image to reinforce the message. So I think the decision to include an image or not depends largely on what we want to express in that particular situation.
I think it is also closely related to whether we are working on a commissioned project or creating a specific piece or advertisement. In my personal work, however, we always try to create this combination and interplay between image and word. That relationship is always present.
Ultimately, the decision depends on the direction we want to take at that particular moment. Nevertheless, sign painting is closely connected to both imagery and lettering. I think the combination of the two has greater impact and communicates more clearly than lettering alone. Although we can express a message through shapes, I feel that incorporating an image or drawing gives the work greater strength and visual weight.
SA: Many traditional sign painters develop their own brush techniques and lettering styles. What tools, techniques, or brushes are part of your working process?
RB: For the most part, sign painting has relied on flat tools, specifically brushes, like the one we are using right now. The great advantage of this brush is that you can create different lettering styles using a single tool.
However, we have three main tools: the flat brush, the round brush, and a brush used to outline or create thinner lines. Sometimes we call the latter a tiralíneas, although that is not technically the correct name. It is simply a slightly thinner brush.
In Mexico, the shapes and characteristics of lettering have been strongly influenced by the tools available. We do not always have access to the very fine brushes you might find in Europe or the United States, particularly those made with natural bristles and used for working with enamel paint. These materials are somewhat scarce in Mexico.
As a result, Mexican sign painters have had to adapt their tools. Sometimes we use synthetic-bristle brushes that are flat, and we modify them by trimming the bristles to make them shorter. This helps us maintain a consistent thickness and gives us greater confidence that each stroke will have the same width.
There are all kinds of customized tricks when it comes to tools, largely because of limited availability. For example, we are based in Oaxaca, where there are not many stores. I think there are only two, and when you go there, they often do not have any brushes in stock. The few that arrive sell out very quickly.
Throughout Mexico, there are perhaps only two or three stores that specialize in selling the brushes we use for sign painting. Most brushes are designed for oil painting or other materials, which behave very differently and change the texture and quality of the brushstrokes.
SA: Now comes the darker side of the conversation. Well, perhaps not the darker side, but I would like to talk a little about the comparison with digital technology. Hand-painted typography has a very different personality from digital typography. What do you think a hand-painted letter preserves about the human gesture that technology cannot replicate? I would also like you to mention that you studied graphic design to continue the legacy of your grandfather and father, while adding a more contemporary profession to that tradition. Perhaps that gives you an interesting perspective on the subject.
RB: Every sign painter develops their own lettering and calligraphic forms. Sign painting has a certain influence from lettering and calligraphy, and what machines will never truly be able to replace is the manual aspect of the work.
In some other trades, artificial processes might be able to intervene to a certain extent. But in sign painting, we see the handmade quality as something that gives the letters their personality.
I think previous generations of sign painters grew up with lettering catalogs, such as the Speedball catalogs, which influenced them and gave them ideas. They showed how an S could have different thicknesses or be formed asymmetrically, or how block letters could be constructed through individual brushstrokes.
These influences also had a significant impact on my own work because I grew up drawing and tracing letters. Later, I studied graphic design, and that education allowed me to look at lettering from a completely different perspective. As you mentioned, I began to understand the personality each person brings to their work, and I realized how important it was to preserve this tradition.
Why? Because the arrival of plotters, printed banners, and vinyl in Mexico led to the loss of much of the manual work and the visual richness that existed in lettering and illustration. Many of those master sign painters moved toward digital printing instead.
As I continued exploring and developing my skills as a designer, I realized just how much richness there was in sign painting. During my studies and professional training, I learned a great deal about typography and editorial design, and I discovered lettering as a discipline. At the time, it seemed like everyone was doing lettering, and I remember thinking, "But I do sign painting." Then I realized it was essentially the same thing. I simply had not known the term for it because I had never thought about it that way.
I found that quite funny.
So I began looking through my family's photographic archives to see what we had. I came across photographs showing that my father had once operated a workshop in the city of Oaxaca called Rótulos y Dibujos Bautista.
When I looked closely at one of the signs bearing the Bautista name, I noticed that the lettering was in the Bauhaus style. I asked my father, "Why were you using this typeface in the 1980s when I later studied these design movements?"
He explained a little about how the lettering catalogs had inspired him. But when I looked at the work more closely, I could see that he had added his own essence to it.
I could recognize that the lettering was inspired by, or perhaps adapted from, a Bauhaus typeface. But the character of the brushstrokes and the drops of paint gave it a completely different quality. The strokes were not perfectly cut or completely straight. They had subtle curves and rounded terminals that could only come from the movement of the human hand.
We might take these qualities for granted because they feel so natural to us. But now that we have been transferring our work onto different surfaces and experimenting with other materials, we have come to understand just how important these details are and how much value they give to our work.
Everything begins with the hand and the feeling you put into it. Sometimes it is the fluidity of a letter; other times, it is the decorative details. All of it comes from a stroke that will never be repeated in exactly the same way.