Dawes Casta

CASTA
BILINGUAL DRAFT: May 13, 2018

CHARACTERS
PAINTER/NO TE ENTIENDO (20s/m or masculine person), an apprentice of unknown
mixed race heritage.
ENSEMBLE 6 + Latinx & mixed-race Latinx actors perform various roles including:
DON ANTONIO, a criollo “nobleman”
ESPAÑOL - PENINSULAR, Spanish nobleman born in Spain
INDIA/TONANTZIN, an indigenous Zapotec woman
MESTIZA
CASTIZO, a musician
ESPAÑOLA – PENINSULAR/LA VIRGEN, Spanish noblewoman born in Spain
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO, Spanish nobleman born in Mexico
LA NEGRA\LA VIRGEN MORENA, a free African woman born in Mexico
LA MACHO, Antonia Piedra, mulata
MORISCA, an officer’s mistress
ALBINA, a merchant’s wife
TORNA ATRÁS
ESPAÑOLA - CRIOLLO, Spanish noblewoman born in Mexico
SERVANT
TENTE EN EL AIRE . . . up . . . up . . . and . . . away
CHINO CAMBUJO
LOBA, a street vendor
INDIO, a cobbler
ALBARAZADA
MESTIZO
BARTENDER, a female pulque vendor
BARCINO/A
ZAMBAYGO/A, child obraje workers
CHAMIZO
ARTS PATRONS
SETTING
1785, Mexico City. An artist’s workshop.
VENUE NOTE
The play can be performed in a traditional theater venue OR an art gallery/museum space for a
semi-immersive experience.
Casta, 2
CASTA - CASTING
Diverse Latinx identities/histories are present in this work, so the performers onstage must also
represent that diversity. Casting outreach should include mixed race and Afro Latinx actors who do
not speak Spanish. In the initial workshops of this play with Salvage Vanguard Theater, puppets
performed most of the child characters. The rehearsal process included a puppetry performance
workshop to help train ensemble members without that experience.
Casta, 3
ARRIVAL
1785, Mexico City. An artist’s workshop. Arrival

music plays as a PAINTER mixes various pigments
with linseed oil to create a paint palette.
As audience members arrive, they play a quick “game

of chance” at the box office to receive paint swatch
“tickets” (various skin tones represented).
The audience space is divided into four Casta sections

or rows. Ensemble members help audience members
to their assigned seats.
When all Casta seats have been claimed, Ensemble

members pull out ornate, plush chairs for the Español
audience in the front row (the last to arrive have the
best seats). All available ensemble members tend to this
very important audience, offering special wine and
chocolate.
At the start of show, PAINTER sits before a huge,

blank canvas. He carefully unrolls a large print
reproduction of Our Lady of Guadalupe. PAINTER
notices the audience watching him. He stops and
addresses them.
PAINTER
Nican mopohua how the great marvel our Lord has made through the medium of the always virgin,
Saint Mary. She appears among the rocks, four times she appears at the Hill of Tepeyac to Juan
Diego. He is . . . nobody really. Un campesino indio. Everyone knows this story but we have to
remember: the maiden appears before him. Not the bishop, not the vice royal, not the King! Mary
appears before Juan Diego and she speaks Nahautl, she speaks the native language. She asks that a
shrine be built in her honor. Juan doesn’t believe his own eyes. He thinks he is dreaming. He goes to
the archbishop two, no three times but the Virgin Mary keeps appearing, appearing, persistent “¿No
estoy yo aquí que soy tu madre?”
(pause; grins)
We all know a mother and . . . this is the Holy Mother. You answer or . . . there is trouble! Still,
Juan asks for some sign, something to prove this is real. The Virgin tells him to gather flowers from
the top of Tepeyac. It’s the 12th of December. There is no flower that grows in winter . . . But he
goes and . . . he finds red roses growing there, Castilian roses in full bloom. The Virgin takes the
Casta, 4
PAINTER (CONT’D)
flowers and arranges them in his tilmatli. When he returns to the archbishop, Juan opens his cloak
and the roses all fall to the ground. On the fabric remains the image of La Virgen. This image.
He admires his reference print.
PAINTER
This image I cannot paint. For the masters only. They may paint her – again and again. She’s
everywhere: all the churches, the finest houses, offices of the vice-royal. Our Lady of Guadalupe. Her
image persists. And do you see?
He holds up a paint swatch with 4 different skin tones

painted: a light brown, an olive brown, a medium
brown, and a deeper, dark brown. He holds it up
against the print reference.
PAINTER
She’s painted brown. They say morena but . . . I am much darker than she.
He holds the paint swatch up to his face for the

audience to see. He matches one of the darker brown
shades.
PAINTER
I am . . . but a lowly apprentice. I must be content that I am allowed to study in the royal academy
at all. Only Español admitted, with 4 spots reserved, just 4 for Indios of the chief caciques. Pero no
soy ni Español ni Indio . . .
(pause)
Every night and day, I am in this place . . . working and painting and I know . . . I’m not supposed
to be here. But it . . . it lights a kind of fire when you are the first. When you are the only one. I
want to show that I am the most talented, most skilled artist in all of Mexico City. One day I will
paint La Virgen de Guadalupe. One day, I will be a master painter.
He pulls out another reference image: a casta series (in

a single panel/grid).
Casta, 5
PAINTER
(sighs)
But today? Today, I paint whatever they ask. Don - -
DON ANTONIO, a criollo nobleman dressed in a

European styled coat and powdered wig, makes a
grand entrance with an ornate cane.
DON ANTONIO
Don Antonio Rafael de Aguilera y Orense, a wealthy merchant - -
He inspects the room carefully, with a frown.
PAINTER
Of what, he never said - -
Don Antonio gestures to the reference print with a

gloved hand.
DON ANTONIO
Provided here for you is the reference to paint. Each panel will be its own portrait. Sixteen paintings.
PAINTER
Sixteen total?
DON ANTONIO
It is a series that depicts the castes of Nueva España, las castas. Very popular. All the Español have
these.
PAINTER
(quietly, to audience member)
I don’t know why . . . why you hang these in your home? I suppose it’s calming?
Casta, 6
DON ANTONIO
Everything in specific order. Everyone confined in their little box with their appropriate title.
PAINTER
Chino. Mulatto. Lobo.
(at audience)
They are the names of animals.
DON ANTONIO
In each panel, a family is represented. Father, Mother and Child.
PAINTER
Africans at the bottom, always. In between, the Indian mixtures - -
DON ANTONIO
Español at the very top.
PAINTER
(quietly, to audience)
You might guess who designed this . . .
(to Don Antonio)
It would be an honor to create this for you - -
Don Antonio turns to leave.
DON ANTONIO
Of course it would.
PAINTER
Will they be exhibited here or perhaps in one of your homes overseas - - ?
Don Antonio turns back.
DON ANTONIO
(sharply)
I do not have a home in the Old Spain, I live in the New - -
PAINTER
Yes, of course - -
DON ANTONIO
You think only peninsulares can afford such things?
Casta, 7
PAINTER
Oh no, I - -
DON ANTONIO
Are we criollos so uncultured, so unrefined we cannot commission our own art?
PAINTER
No - -
(to audience)
In truth, I cannot tell the difference. I paint both portraits and Español peninsulares y criollos are
posed the exact same way, same clothes, same face even - -
Don Antonio gives a stern, sour expression.
DON ANTONIO
We are both Español. But criollos treated different. Inferior. Almost three centuries of paying tribute
to the distant kingdom but do they reserve official posts solely for us - -
PAINTER
(to audience)
Here is why he’s upset.
DON ANTONIO
No! But I’m not upset, because unlike peninsulares, I have made myself very rich and powerful.
PAINTER
(to audience)
He never says how - -
DON ANTONIO
Whatever they pay you for commission, I can pay three times as much. In full. When the paintings
are complete.
PAINTER
Three? Three is quite a . . . three, yes. A very generous sum. Thank you, thank you Don - -
He offers his hand.
DON ANTONIO
Produce an exact copy. Do not disappoint me.
Don Antonio sniffs. He exits, with flourish.
Casta, 8
PAINTER
(excitedly, to audience)
I will not disappoint! No. Exact copy. The reference directly onto canvas. This I can do.
He opens up the reference print again. He stares at

the first panel. He turns back to the audience.
PAINTER
(pause)
Alright . . . OK . . . this is a small thing, but we can all agree, from an aesthetic perspective . . . the
composition is flat. I’m not wrong, am I? It would be more interesting, more dynamic if in the first
panel, we cannot see the father’s face. That’s the truth, right . . . the father is often a mystery. If he is
unknown to the child, let’s make him unknown to the viewer as well . . .
He begins to paint. Lights shift.
Casta, 9
SCENE 1: ESPAÑOL Y INDIA PRODUCE MESTIZA
Casta Portrait – We see Español-Peninsular only in

profile, dressed in a blue velvet waistcoast with ruffled
cuffs. A tuft of dark hair peeks from under his white
wig. He reaches one hand to India, who smiles at
him. India’s hand touches the top of her daughter’s
head, the other holds her arm. Mestiza looks up at
Español, holding a slice of pineapple with a bite
missing.
PAINTER
Español y India produce Mestiza.
Painter watches from the audience.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Conosco a vos. Conosco vuestro rostro.
INDIA
Do you know me, señor?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Nunca olvidaria un rostro tan esplendoroso. Decidme vuestro nombre una vez mas.
INDIA
You know my face but not my name?
ESPAÑOL
Vuestro nombre es Ana. Es Maria. Es Ana Maria?
India shakes her head.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
No? No estoy cerca?! Tal vez algo mas exotico, algo indio como “Centehua.”
INDIA
(smirks)
The only one?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
A caso eso significa? Entonces eso suena bien. Centehua. Solo una. La unica.
Casta, 10
India smiles, shakes her head.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Si gano vuestro pequeño juego. . . que premio ganare? Tengo una multitud de nombres que os
podeis pertencer . . .
Mestiza slowly raises her slice of pineapple and takes a

bite. Her eyes do not leave Español’s face. He never
looks down at her.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Xochitl? Significa flor, ese nombre lo conosco.
INDIA
You know a lot of Xochitls then?
He removes his hat, adjusts his wig awkwardly.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Conosco . . . la cantidad respetable.
India strokes her daughter’s hair.
INDIA
You are the only Juan Perez de Arteaga I know.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Ah, conoceis mi nombre! Mereceis un premio! Que os comprare? Un brazalete de plata? Un collar de
oro? Seis ya bastante adornada - -
India touches the necklaces around her neck.
INDIA
Yes, well . . . when you left for Spain, I - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Un liston de terciopelo? Un abanico de papel? Seguramente hay algo que os puedo comprar. Algo
codiciado por vuestro corazon?
INDIA
. . . I do not desire any thing more from you.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
“Nada mas?!” Nunca os e dado - -
Casta, 11
Mestiza offers her pineapple rind to Español. He does
not see. India pulls her closer.
INDIA
And that is all the gift I need. Thank you. Señor.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(awkward pause)
Eh . . . no hay de que.
He starts to leave, then turns back.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Es solo que - - vos seis tan conocida. No os dara vuestro nombre? Me encuentro bastante
desconcertado . . .
India smiles politely.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Me entendereis . . . hay un cierto orden en la mente de uno mismo, un sistema con el cual
arreglamos nuestra vista, nuestra memoria, nuestros sueños. . . y ahora es tan inquietante no poder
reconocer a vos, no poder encontrar lugar- -
INDIA
My place is here. With my daughter.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Solo deseba comprar a vos un obsequio. Sabeis que no hay daño en recibir la caridad.
INDIA
Is it charity? I am already quite adorned as you say.
He tips his hat and awkwardly steps out of the

portrait. India strokes her daughter’s hair.
MESTIZA
Necahual.
India leans down to kiss her.
INDIA
(to Mestiza)
Necahual! Si! Si! You win a prize!
Casta, 12
She hands her another slice of pineapple. Mestiza
takes a bite.
INDIA
Necahual. It means “left behind.” It means . . . “survivor.”
Español reenters.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
I know you.
Painter prepares the next portrait.
Casta, 13
SCENE 2: ESPAÑOL Y MESTIZA PRODUCE CASTIZO
Casta Portrait – Mestiza wears a long headdress. She

carries her son Castizo, who bats at her necklace
playfully. Español-Peninsular slings a gun over one
shoulder, a cape is draped over the other. He points to
mountains in the distance, looking back at his wife.
Painter narrates from the audience, nibbling on a slice

of pineapple.
PAINTER
Español y Mestiza produce Castizo.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(sings off-key)
“Over yonder/ in the very big mountains!/Far away!!!”
MESTIZA
Gracias.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Gracias.
(smiles)
How is our little sir today? Are we well?
MESTIZA
El se rehusa a amamantar. He is entranced by my necklace - -
She pulls him away for a second. Castizo whines and

reaches for her necklace again.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(laughs)
He has an appreciation for beauty, even at his own peril. For beauty may feed our souls, but it
cannot fill our bellies. I just made that up! Yes!
He kisses Mestiza’s cheek.
MESTIZA
(smiles)
Si - pero lleno vuestra barriga cada dia! Pan dulce, chocolate, piña! Cada dia se pide piña!
Casta, 14
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
If you knew what they cost in Spain . . . you would fall out of your skirts. Comere piña hasta el
ultimo dia de mi vida!
MESTIZA
Do you miss it?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
La piña? Solo en cada momento que no la como - -
MESTIZA
(laughs)
No, me refiero a España. La extrañáis?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
I knew what you meant! Aha!
(laughs)
Have to be quick with me! I am five steps ahead, now two - -
MESTIZA
(laughs)
You’re all over the place!
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
My nurse said the very same thing when I was a boy! Yes, yes. Now, do I miss Spain? No. But in my
dreams . . .
MESTIZA
Vuestros sueños vos contradicen?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Si . . . si . . . en mis sueños siempre estoy en España. I dream I am home again with my parents, all
my brothers. Everyone looks just the same; everyone is right where I left them, right in their place.
And the voyage is like that - - I can jump between worlds in an instant. Estoy en dos mundos.
MESTIZA
(nods)
Tal vez algun dia, ire junto a vos, para que vuestra madre pueda concer a su nieto - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Ohhhhhhh ahhhhh - - it is a journey I make only in my sleep now.
MESTIZA
No? Not ever?
Casta, 15
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Ohhhhh ahhhhhh not NOT ever . . . it is just so many months at sea . . . it’s quite dangerous.
MESTIZA
Y yo soy fuerte. Y al igual valiente.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Ohhhhh ahhhhhh yes but - -
MESTIZA
But - - ?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
My family, my mother, she does not know you - -
MESTIZA
I exist?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
No, she knows we are married. I just have never told her you were any different. That you were - -
He gestures.
MESTIZA
Mestiza? How is that any different?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Yes, yes. Exactly my point! Looking at you now, there is no difference. Your dress and jewelry! You
could be Española - -
MESTIZA
I do not dress to look Española, I dress to look myself: fashionable, very beautiful. New World and
Old. India y Española.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Yes, yes, but that is just to say, you do not appear to be - -
MESTIZA
Mestiza, conoceis esta palabra - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Conosco la palabra - -
Casta, 16
MESTIZA PAINTER
Entonces direis la - - Then say it - -
(prompts) (prompts from the audience)
Mehhh – Mehhh - - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
“Mehhhiii esposa no es Española” I like to say. For it is vague, therefore easier - -
MESTIZA
Easier to say what I am. Mestiza. I am in two worlds. Same as you. No different.
Castizo begins to hiccup quietly. Mestiza hoists him

over her shoulder and pats his back.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(pause)
If we go to Spain, you would have to become Española. That is the only way my family - -
MESTIZA
Your mother.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
It’s the only way my mother would accept you. So I could not ask you to . . . I will never ask you to
be anything but Mestiza. For it is who you are. And I will not return to Spain ever again . . . for I do
not see myself in any world without you.
She leans in and kisses his cheek.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Gracias.
He leans in and kisses his son.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Y gracias.
He notices something in the distance.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(sings off-key)
“Oh look at that bird!/ in the very big mountains!/ Far away!!!”
Casta, 17
SCENE 3: ESPAÑOLA Y CASTIZO, PRODUCE ESPAÑOL
Casta Portrait – Castizo holds a violin, sharing its bow

with his son. Española-Peninsular sits posed upright
with fan, a beauty mark high on her temple. She
offers a demure smile for the audience.
PAINTER
Here I’ll paint the rare Española peninsular. Not many in this world, not many conquistadoras in
the beginning. They arrive much later. So . . . this means almost everyone, whether they say or not,
has indigenous blood. It’s true: todos somos indios. Y todos somos africanos - -
(pause)
Not here. I’ll wait to speak on that . . . here we will see what everyone accepts: the blood may be
mended. Within 2 generations, all Indian influence – clean. I know. So here is a Spanish child,
criollo, but if his parents were lacking in honor and wealth, he is Castizo.
(pause, direct to audience)
I feel like I might have lost you. Not everyone. Maybe you. Uh if the child of Spanish and Castizo/a
is born into an honorable family, then the child is White, no Indian blood. Erased completely. But if
the parents were of inferior calidad . . . the child is Castizo, he’s a casta. It makes sense, right? Muy
fácil.
He grins and returns to his painting.
PAINTER
No, no. There is much honor in this luxurious household . . . Castizo y Española produce Español.
Castizo reaches with the bow, trying to drag it across

the violin strings.
ESPAÑOLA-PENINSULAR
No le dejes.
CASTIZO
El le hara daño.
Ese ruido.
Casta, 18
CASTIZO
(smiles)
Ni lo ha tocado - -
Y no debe.
Castizo smiles at his son and steps away.
CASTIZO
Tal vez es musico. Como su padre.
He begins to play a little riff on the violin.
(scowls)
Uno en esta familia es lo suficiente. De hecho, ya es demasiado.
CASTIZO
(laughs)
Ahhh vos recargabas sobre vuestra ventana cuando tocabamos en las calles. Tantos suspiros, tan
grandes, para guiar a nuestros ojos hacia vuestro balcon. Donde vos se encontraba, posando, el
cabello hasta los hombros, en solo una bata- -
Que estupideces. Estoy enferma y acalorada con frequencia.
CASTIZO
Si.
El aire aqui es tan denso. Nauseabundo. Inspira cada cosa mucosa --
CASTIZO
Si contadme mas de vuestros mocos.
She glares at him.
CASTIZO
Contadme de cada berruga, barro, cada diente roto, y cada marca. Que si son vuestros, son tan bellos
como vos --
Burlaise de mi?
Casta, 19
CASTIZO
Veo la belleza en todas sus formas. Y encuentro cada una de vuestras partes asi de bellas.
(quieter)
No importa que tan vulgares y asquerosas.
She opens her fan and begins fanning herself.
No sabeis como hablar con una dama.
CASTIZO
Soy musico. No hay necesidad de saber como hablar--
(sharply)
No sabeis como hablar con damas de sangre noble, de sangre majestuosa, de rango.
CASTIZO
A, la verdad. Suelo hablar con ladrones, borrachos, rameras, prostitutas… los conoceis como mi
padre, mi hermano, mi madre - -
Yo se que su padre no es ladron, fue teniente en el ejercito--
CASTIZO
Y mi madre? Sabia que mi madre era prostituta?
She fans herself faster, furiously. He frowns at her.
Lo se - -
CASTIZO
Sabeis que nunca ha visto las entraña de un salon de baile o de una pulqueria. . .
Ella siempre a sido una dama de comportamiento, nunca dije - - !
CASTIZO
Nunco lo sugeriria pero … debeis de saber que mis padres fueron casados al igual que los vuestros.
Un matrimonio sin corrupcion alguna - -
Y vosotros?
Casta, 20
She gestures at him.
CASTIZO
Digo que el matrimonio no fue en deshonra. Asi como no hay deshonra para mi, vuestro esposo, de
vivir junto a vos, en el castillo de vuestro padre - - !
Hacienda!
(off his look)
No…es un palacio!
CASTIZO
Me cubro en las vestiduras seleccionadas por vosotros - -
Española tries to interject throughout. Their son

watches them very carefully.
CASTIZO
(louder)
Cumpliendo siempre con cada regla y costumbre, y aun asi me encuentra deplorable, vergonzoso,
detestable - - ?!
(yells)
Soy . . . vuestra esposa!!! Y siempre lo encontrare detestable!!!
Beat. They both explode with laughter. Baby Español

cackles with them.
CASTIZO
Mi esposa me encuentra detestable - -
Solo en parte.
CASTIZO
Y cuales partes? Me atrevo a - - ?
She studies him.
La parte . . . que se burla de mi. Cuando deseo ser mas seria.
Casta, 21
CASTIZO
(nods)
Ah. Mi esposa. Tan seria.
He makes a serious face to try to match hers.
La parte . . . que me recuerda de cada vez que me escape a los bailes con mis hermanos en secreto - -
CASTIZO
Y varios “hermanos” que eran! Que tan grande la familia de la dama antes de conocerme.
She swats him with her fan. Baby Español mimics her
movements with his hands. Castizo smiles at him.
CASTIZO
Que afortunado es nuestro hijo, en parecerse tanto a ti. El no tendra que conquistar la maestria del
violin para enamorar a la Española mas bella de todas las colonias.
(rolls her eyes)
Nunca habeis visto a todas las Españolas de - -
CASTIZO
(grins)
Ah, pero lo e intentado - - !
Ah!
She hits Castizo playfully with her fan. Their son us

this opportunity to grabs the violin bow.
Screeeeeeeeeeeeech.
Casta, 22
SCENE 4: ESPAÑOL Y LA NEGRA PRODUCE MULATA
Casta Portrait – Español-Criollo holds a pipe in one

hand, the other points a finger at La Negra. She leans
in at him, hand raised. On the stove is a pot of
chocolate. Their daughter, La Macho, stands between
them wears her father’s coat over her dress. She holds
out a small brazier (lighter) in one hand.
PAINTER
Español y Negra produce Mulata - -
LA MACHO
(at audience)
La Macho!
PAINTER
La Macho?!
La Macho runs off. Español frowns at La Negra.
ESPAÑOL
My pipe is not lit.
LA NEGRA
(calls out)
Antonia? . . . Antonia Piedra?!
Beat.
LA NEGRA
(calls out)
La Macho?!
La Macho runs in again. She holds out the lighter and

Español lights his cigarette. He inhales, considering
her carefully.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
La Macho?
Casta, 23
LA MACHO
LA MACHO!
She runs off again.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
(frowns)
She’s wearing my clothes . . .
La Negra nods.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
Did you not say anything?
LA NEGRA
“Only inside the house. Never when we have company. And if you rip Papa’s clothes, he will find
the biggest branch - -”
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
That does not resolve the greater issue - -
LA NEGRA
Chocolate? To drink? / / Greater issue?
She offers him a mug of hot chocolate. He accepts it.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
Yes, thank you / / Spiritual disease - -
LA NEGRA
Spiritual disease? She is four years old . . .
He tries to take a sip of his chocolate.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
Too hot. Too hot / / Yes it is still early. We might intervene - -
LA NEGRA
Then wait / / Intervene?
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
You must take her to Church.
Casta, 24
LA NEGRA
I take her to Church, every Sunday - -
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
And what does the priest say? Did you explain her behavior? Are you not concerned with your
daughter’s salvation - -
LA NEGRA
Our daughter’s salvation, yes concerns me very much. I just don’t think there’s need for curative
penance every time she wants to play in her father’s closet - -
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
Could you not direct her to your closet - - ?
LA NEGRA
I could not. Those are my clothes. And she won’t touch them, anyway.
La Negra pours herself a chocolate and sits. He stares

at her. She finally looks back at him.
LA NEGRA
You’re upset with me. Again. What have I done?
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
If Antonia continues on a certain path . . . if she does not accept herself as God has made her, she
will not ascend to heaven.
LA NEGRA
We cannot know her path . . .
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
You can direct her. You can guide her. If we are all to share the same heaven - -
LA NEGRA
We will not share the same heaven.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
Won’t we?
She drinks.
ESPAÑOL – CRIOLLO
(sighs)
Why wouldn’t we share the same heaven?
Casta, 25
LA NEGRA
You know there are seven heavens and in all there is glory?
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
There are seven levels . . . it is all the same. We have all been baptized.
LA NEGRA
There is a difference . . . some heavens above others. The highest heaven is most glorious, reserved
for priests and nuns. In the next level, Españoles. In the third level, others of inferior calidad. And in
the very last level are the Africans, Indians, and castas. And there is not much glory at all here
because heavenly award does not conform to merit or virtue.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
(frowns, incredulously)
Wait, what . . .?
LA NEGRA
That is what your priest has said. We cannot be saved because our color is broken.
She sips her chocolate thoughtfully. Beat. Español

stares at her, bewildered.
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
I honestly do not believe that is correct . . . there are different degrees of perfection, granted in
proportion to one’s merits - -
LA NEGRA
And what merits or virtues will be recognized above in heaven, if not down here on Earth?!
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
Because you - -
La Negra turns to him angrily, holding up a hand.
LA NEGRA
Because we are broken! You do not dispute that!
Español points a finger at her. La Macho runs in and

stops between them. She holds a hand out to her
mother, looking out at the audience.
Casta, 26
PAINTER
(frowns)
Wait. Is this the image?
Painter carefully examines the portrait. He pulls out

his reference print and compares it to the image
onstage.
PAINTER
(to audience)
Ah, no. It’s much worse.
Painter adjusts the image so that they form a much

more violent pose: La Negra holds a spoon over her
head as she pulls at Español’s hair. La Macho pulls at
La Negra’s skirts, wailing. Painter steps back to take
in the full effect of this image.
Casta, 27
PAINTER
What does it say that we create this image, again and again? Do the patrons ask for it because they
think it’s all we can paint . . . or is it all we paint because we think it’s all they want to see?
(pause)
No. I am too kind. I know why they ask to see it. This is how they see it. We paint it because . . .
because we have to survive, we have to make money. But also . . . also this work is all we leave
behind. Here we make our mark. You don’t see the Masters with huge families, passing down the
traditions. It’s a solitary life . . . only our work can speak for us and . . . the patrons let us be heard.
Revered. Remembered.
(pause)
I know this woman. My godmother. She is the one who raised me. She brought me here from
Oaxaca so that I would not starve. So that I would know some kind of family. In this frame . . . in
this image, I cannot see her . . . I must paint what I know is true. I’ll paint - -
LA MACHO
LA MACHO!
PAINTER
Yes. I will paint La Macho next! For I knew you too.
Painter smiles as La Macho runs out of frame. Painter

resets the image. La Negra stirs chocolate on the
stove as Father leans in next to her. There’s a small
space between them where La Macho will fit.
Painter steps back to admire his work. The portrait

reanimates.
LA NEGRA
(pause)
. . . Are you going to drink your chocolate - - ?
ESPAÑOL - CRIOLLO
(lost in thought)
My - - ?
LA NEGRA
It has cooled by now.
(calls out)
Antonia? Antonia?!
Casta, 28
Nothing.
LA NEGRA
(sighs)
Ay. La Macho!
La Macho runs back in, skids to stop//pose.
LA MACHO
LA MACHO.
LA NEGRA
Give your father his coat. Go on. Go on. It’s his to wear.
La Macho reluctantly hands the coat to her father.

Español reaches a hand out to touch the top of her
hair gently.
Casta, 29
SCENE 5: ESPAÑOL Y MULATA PRODUCE MORISCO/A
Casta Portrait – Two Morisco children are posed with

their father, an older Español -Criollo. The daughter
is maybe 2-3 years old and stands posed on a table;
the son is older, maybe 5-6 years old. He stands on
the ground with a pea-shooter aimed for his sister’s
head.
Painter cuts open an avocado and places it in the

display. He saves a piece for himself.
PAINTER
Español y La Macho - -
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
(sternly to Painter)
Español y Mulata.
La Macho enters, a young teenage wife. She poses

herself apart from her children, watching Español
gently stroke his daughter’s cheek with the back of
one hand. Painter stares at her curiously.
PAINTER
Mulata . . . not La Macho? I knew as a young boy, we played together - -
La Macho shakes her head somberly.
PAINTER
Alright . . . Español y Mulata produce Morisca, Morisco.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
(to his daughter)
O Susana, O precious and admired. With a cheek so pale. What a wonder you are! I do truly
perceive myself so clearly within you - -
He looks from his hand to his daughter’s cheek. Their

skin tone appears to match.
SPLAT! His daughter is hit on the side of the face

with a pea. Her brother cackles with glee as his sister’s
face curls into an ugly frown. She begins whining
loudly.
Casta, 30
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
(to his son)
Stop that at once!
Español grabs his son’s “peashooter” and tosses it. He

then pushes his son away with one hand. Morsico
topples over backwards and bursts into tears. Español
turns to La Macho. She stares at him, with a blank
expression.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
Will you not quiet him? He grovels on the ground, so base is his behavior - -
He reaches for his daughter, holds her on one hip,

tries to quiet her.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
(soothing)
O why are we crying? Why do we cry? Have we any reason, my sweet, perfect, beautiful dear - - ?
Morisco reaches for his father, Español almost trips

and falls.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
Tiny beast, unhand me! Antonia! Will you take your son? He does not fear me!
His daughter grabs the brim of his hat and removes it.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
(softer)
Ah no. Papa’s hat is not for you, my glorious, angelic - -
(at La Macho)
Antonia, I implore you! You must tend to the children. It is a most tiring, feminine labor and I am
not well suited for it.
He holds out his daughter for La Macho to take. She

steps back.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
I will not chase you about the house. I must put my foot down. Down upon the ground. Take your
daughter now! Gregoria! Take her! Or I will drop her.
La Macho stares at him.
Casta, 31
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
I . . . will . . . drop her. I’ll drop her!
La Macho stares at him. He carefully places Morisca

back on the table. She holds his hat in her mouth.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
There, there Susana. There you stay put, next to the avocadoes, inexplicably left to brown in the sun
as there is no order in this household, there is no order in this life!
He locks eyes with Painter, who watches him

carefully. Español takes a breath to recover.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
(to La Macho)
I know that I shall never soften your desire or bend your devotion to favor me. I know that you
sneak out of the house. Yes! I know! I know you are often found in some secluded corner, always
with some female companion, always some secret, illicit friendship. Do not smile - -
He reaches a hand out to grab her face but she

intercepts before he can touch her.
A sharp intake of breath.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
Antonia!
He tries to remove his hand but she has a good grip.

She is much stronger than him.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
Unhand me. This instant!
LA MACHO
You promised my father. You said you would not lay a hand on me - -
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
I have not!
She grips his hand tighter. He winces painfully.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
I have only . . . fulfilled my duties as husband.
Casta, 32
LA MACHO
You promised. On his death bed - -
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
I promised his handsome daughter would be provided for. That you would not starve on the streets!
Be grateful - -
LA MACHO
Grateful?! I should be grateful to you?!
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
You may be just a child but understand, I am still a man - -
LA MACHO
You are no man. No man forces himself on a child - -
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
What do you know of men? Except, wearing a suit. Playing pelota. That’s it.
She tightens her grip.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
Have pity on me! I am an old man! I have always been an old man . . .
(painfully)
Will you allow your children to see you in such a state?
She looks over at the children who watch her

carefully. She suddenly releases him. He grasps his
sore wrist.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
May our lord God help me! I thought I had wed a sweet and docile creature. But I perceive you
now. I perceive you.
LA MACHO
(waves him off)
I perceive you.
He exits angrily. La Macho retrieves her son’s

peashooter and hands it back to him.
Casta, 33
LA MACHO
You may have it back. But next time . . . you will not miss. You aim right for his head. Shall I teach
you? Get your father’s record book. The very fancy one we are not to touch.
Her son runs off. He returns with a bound journal. La

Macho opens it. She reads slowly.
LA MACHO
(reading)
Dos reales . . . Indio sin nombre.
She stops, rips the page out and tears it into small
pieces. She chews up a small piece, instructing her
son. La Macho takes the peashooter, loads a spitball.
She points to her daughter.
LA MACHO
She carries the weight of many skirts so she must move slowly and rest often. She is a tiny, fragile
thing. See how they keep her trapped indoors? See how they’ve made her weak?
She spits and the spitball hits her daughter right

between the eyes. SPLAT! Her daughter falls back on
her bottom and she begins to cry. La Macho goes to
her daughter, gently lifting her back on her feet. She
takes the hat from her daughter’s hands and places it
on her head.
She assumes the position of Español, gently stroking

her daughter’s cheek with the back of one hand. Her
daughter quickly quiets.
LA MACHO
(quietly, to daughter)
“Will I abandon you? Abandon your eyes like stars, these precious flowers that gaze out from under
your brows?”
She hands the pea shooter back to her son.
LA MACHO
(to son)
Know your target. Know when to strike. Know when to retreat.
She steps back. She drops her skirts, revealing men’s

pants underneath. She approaches her son carefully,
dropping a hand gently on his head.
Casta, 34
LA MACHO
That is how you survive.
She turns and exits frame. The children look at each

other.
Español reenters with a whip in hand.
ESPAÑOL-CRIOLLO
Antonia . . . ?!!
Painter intervenes, retrieving the children from the

portrait.
PAINTER
We all know a mother . . .
(pause)
Not true. Not everyone. I never knew my real mother . . . I don’t know what she was like . . . how
she met my father. If she ever loved him. I don’t even know . . . she could still be alive . . . and she
might never want to find me.
(pause, shakes it off)
It’s a fruitless inquiry, to wonder why you’ve been left behind. I’ll . . . I’ll never finish if I stay here.
(to children)
Shall we paint the next? Yes? Si?
MORISCA y MORISCO
Si!
PAINTER
We can show the parent I did know . . . briefly. Very brief.
(sighs)
Don’t excite yourself, he’s not . . . he is not a kind man. I’ll paint my father in his favorite place: the
house of his mistress. One of them, there were many. Yes.
Morisco and Morisca briefly watch as Painter begins

the next portrait.
Casta, 35
SCENE 6: DE ESPAÑOL Y MORISCA, ALBINA
Casta Portrait – Español-Peninsular is seated in the

foreground, his hat resting on one knee. Next to him,
his gun and a pack of cigarettes. Cigarettes are also
found behind one ear, gripped between his lips.
Morisca hands him his daughter.
PAINTER
Español y Morisca produce Albina.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(puffing smoke)
There you are. There you are.
He holds up his daughter, examining her.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
From a distance . . . she seems quite European. Almost.
He squints then opens his eyes again. He pulls his

daughter in closer, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(frowns)
. . . coming closer, the discovery grows. For her eyes are not blue nor brown, but a dim gray color.
He looks over at his mistress, Morisca.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
You may speak.
MORISCA
Her eyes are very weak. She sees more by moonlight than sun.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Most curious. Most curious a daughter you have given me. Skin the color of milk. Skin the color of
chalk. She is White, absolutely . . . but not the white of Europeans, her color closer to the coat of a
white horse or other beast . . .
Casta, 36
MORISCA
Her hair is very fine, much softer than - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
She has hair like a little lamb, a white wool - -
He pinches a few strands of his daughter’s hair and

pulls. Morisca winces but her daughter does not make
a sound.
MORISCA
Her differences may be more visible but I assure you, she is kept indoors at all times. No one ever
sees her, no one ever hears her, she never cries - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
You were supposed to give me a son, were you not? Did your “witch doctor” mistake the recipe? Or
perhaps you are not a Castiza as you say . . .
MORISCA
It is what my father says. My mother died before - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
What a shame we may never be certain.
MORISCA
(mumbles very quietly)
. . . Perhaps the impurity is in your blood - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
What? What did you say?!
Morisca shakes her head, looking at the ground. He

squints at her, then returns to examining his
daughter.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
It is puzzling. That all humans might come from the same father yet there are so many varieties! If it
is, as Dubotts claims, the soil and air - -
He blows out another cloud of smoke. His daughter

coughs, very quietly.
Casta, 37
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR (CONT’D)
If it is climate change that affects the blood . . . then how do we arrive here? One parent White and
the other only partial - -
MORISCA
It is as you said, she is absolutely White - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Did I ask directly for your . . . hypothesis?! Self-inquiry into the origins of my race neither pertain to
nor ask anything of you but silence.
(scoffs, quietly)
The day I ask for the opinions of a woman is the day I eat my hat.
He stares at her until she responds.
MORISCA
Yes.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Have you prepared my dinner? Or have you laid about the house again, assuming a servant would do
your work for you? This is not my primary residence.
MORISCA
I have made tamales and - -
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Fine, fine. I will eat here tonight.
Morisca reaches for her daughter.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
I will hold her another moment.
Morisca hesitates for a moment.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(yells)
How much longer must I wait?!
Morisca exits. Español sighs.
Casta, 38
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
It is no “lapse in nature” that a docile, glowing beast should spring from her hidden parts.
(shakes his head)
Your brothers all came out howling, clawing at their mothers, but none could survive this world.
Not like you. They tell me you made not a sound when you were born. A silent moonlight creature.
He holds her with one hand, the other holds a lit

cigarette.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(beat, quietly)
I will tell you then. I could return to Spain a beggar and a fool, but with a conscience that’s . . . not
pure . . . but closer to it. Or, I can remain in this New World, plentiful that it is, even an illiterate
bastard may see incredible wealth and prosperity. There is none here that knows the constant
contradiction I live and breathe. That my education: stolen from the mouths of learned men. My
wealth: a theft every pious Spaniard practices when he takes what ever he wants at no cost. My
privilege, if it can be called so: my mother expelled me from her lower parts on Spanish soil. Quite
literally in the dirt, as we were very poor - -
(smirks)
Ah, you have no sympathy, do you child? You are but lulled to sleep with my . . . solipses or
soliloquies, whichever. I am quite pitiful though. Yes. I too conceal my true color. Showing no
shame. Feeling no thing. I make no sound when I am hurt.
He extinguishes his cigarette into the arm of his

daughter. She howls with pain, screaming loudly.
Morisca runs in. Painter stands nearby, at attention.
MORISCA
What has happened, why does she cry?
Morisca reaches for her, but Español holds onto her.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
(in shock)
She’s turned red . . . ?!!
MORISCA
Will you give her to me?
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Light another cigarette.
MORISCA
It pains me to hear her - -
Casta, 39
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
Light another!
Morisca releases her grip. She grabs a cigarette, stuffs

it in Español’s mouth and lights it. A puff of smoke.
Morisca reaches again for her daughter but he does
not let go.
ESPAÑOL-PENINSULAR
. . . Do you believe in an evil required for survival?
MORISCA
. . . Do you eat your hat now?
He stares at her. She lowers her eyes.
Painter intervenes again. He lifts Albina from her

father’s arms, rocking her gently.
PAINTER
She may be my sister. Who knows? Who would tell?
Albina finally quiets again and Painter places her in

the next portrait.
Casta, 40
SCENE 7: DE ESPAÑOL Y ALBINA, TORNA ATRÁS
Casta Portrait – Español sits in the foreground,

staring at the audience.
Behind him, a family assembly line to package and

pack the cigarettes onto the shelves behind them.
Torna Atrás looks up at his mother.
PAINTER
Español y Albina produce Torna Atrás.
Español begins rolling cigarettes, Albina packs them

into paper, and their son stocks them on the shelf
behind him. As the family works, a quiet rhythm
builds.
Albina suddenly looks up and stares at the audience.
ALBINA
I must remember these moments of unexpected pleasure. They are fleeting and . . . one often forgets
the great and simple delight of . . . when a thing works! Each piece coming together, as if designed to
fit perfectly. It is a harmony found. For while every thing may have it’s place now, that is ever-
changing, ever-quickly, ever-always. How now all we can do is . . .
PAINTER
Again, begin.
A reversal. The family now unpacks each cigarette

parcel, unrolls each cigarette.
The family rhythm continues, in reverse. Español

suddenly looks up and stares at the audience.
ESPAÑOL
(to audience)
I must tell you in absolute confidence, secure in the love that you have for me, that this child is not
my son. I do formally recognize him as such, despite this . . . uncomfortable inconvenience. And it is
true, many who are born in this particular kingdom are much darker in complexion, he may lighten
up with age. And I will admit, upon examining him closer, I have often remarked that we share
Casta, 41
ESPAÑOL (CONT’D)
many similar features. Mannerisms.
He gestures grandly with a one hand.
PAINTER
Begin again.
Another reversal. The family chain line moves

forwards again.
After a beat, Torna Atrás suddenly looks up and stares

at the audience. He gestures with one hand, very
much like his father.
TORNA ATRÁS
(to audience)
I lit a cigarette. It burnt my fingers.
PAINTER
Again begin.
The family chain line moves backwards again.

Español looks up at the audience.
ESPAÑOL
(to audience)
But I know my own face. My son does not have it. He has Jorge’s! Jorge the mulatto who delivers
the tobacco, who I have witnessed on several occasions sighing. Out loud! Just like . . .
(he sighs)
“How difficult can life be for Jorge?” I think. For all Jorge must do in his life is harvest and deliver
tobacco for his master-father. Yet he sighs and when following his line of sight, I find it leads directly
to - - not even to the face of my wife, but her bosom! A sight I most enjoy and believed only mine
eyes would see uncovered. My wife! Who I believed most honest and virtuous!
A reversal. The family chain line moves forwards

again.
PAINTER
Begin again.
Casta, 42
Albina looks up at the audience.
ALBINA
Honestly, this is not my son but my nephew. He is my brother’s child, half-brother - -
PAINTER
I have a half-brother? Nephew - - ?
ALBINA
He’s married off now to a proper Española, como su madre . . . from a rich family with a lineage that
has not been broken in centuries. So all is forgiven! Isn’t that the way with men? They may sin and
sin and sin again yet their honor is never tainted.
PAINTER
Again begin.
A reversal. The family chain line moves backwards

again. Español looks up at the audience.
ESPAÑOL
(to audience)
I will not damage her honor. Not today. We are behind schedule . . . and the child. He is . . . he is
not at fault. Like all bastards, he was just born! Look at him. Constantly terrified by this world.
PAINTER
Begin again.
Another reversal.
TORNA ATRÁS
(to audience)
It burned the basket I threw it into. I did not see what else the cigarette burned.
He looks at his mother.
TORNA ATRÁS
(whispers)
She can never know - - !
PAINTER
Torna atrás.
A reversal.
Casta, 43
PAINTER
Ahí te estás.
The family quickly halts, frozen in place. Painter

begins the next portrait.
Casta, 44
SCENE 8: TORNA ATRÁS Y ESPAÑOLA, TENTE EN EL AIRE
Casta Portrait – Torna Atrás sits in the foreground,

holding the handle of his knife against his thigh. He
stares out of frame with a forlorn expression.
Behind him, Española holds their son Tente En El

Aire, a balloon baby on a very short string. Below
them, a child servant offers a plate of papaya with his
eyes downcast. The servant and Tente En El Aire
appear to be about the same age.
PAINTER
Torna Atrás y Española produce Tente en el aire.
A light and airy song plays softly. Torna Atrás wipes

his knife against his thigh. He then holds up the knife
to look at his own reflection.
TORNA ATRÁS
Y te preguntan si conoceis a la persona a la que se le investiga - -
(he gestures to himself)
Como lo conoces, y por cuanto tiempo, y cual es su edad. Te preguntan si conoces a su madre o a su
padre. Te preguntaran si cada uno fueron viejos Cristianos, de sangre pura, sin mancha de raza, de
raza manchada, o descendientes de judios, de moros, de conversos.
As he speaks, he gestures with the knife. Española

must move out of reach with each sentence so that her
son does not pop.
TORNA ATRÁS
Y luego te preguntan si la persona - -
(he gestures again to himself)
O su padre o cualquier ancestor paternal a sido encarcelado o condenado por el Tribunal del santo
oficio de la inquicision o si han cometido algun otro acto de infamia o cualquier rumor que le
prohibe servir al pueblo. Pero si se le encuentra la infamia o el rumor, entonces te preguntan que es
lo que has oido, y donde, y por cuanto, y de quien.
He holds up his knife up in the air as he grabs a slice

of papaya from the platter in front of him. Española
dips dangerously too close to the knife.
Casta, 45
ESPAÑOLA
Ay!
She releases her son and he floats out of his coat and
out the open window.
ESPAÑOLA
(quietly)
Mierda!
Española stares out the window in complete shock.

Did the audience see that too? Painter stifles laughter.
Yes.
Torna Atrás turns to her. Española turns around,

miming like she is still holding her son.
TORNA ATRÁS
Tienes miedo?
ESPAÑOLA
No! No no. No.
TORNA ATRÁS
Muy bien. No tengas miedo. Solo promete decir la verdad como la entiendes tu…
He turns back and sheaths his knife. He reaches for

another slice of papaya, taking big, thoughtful bites.
Española tries to reach for her son out of the open
window.
TORNA ATRÁS
Como lo sabes, mi padre legitimo es un hombre de buen caracter, de rango, de la gran sociedad, no
hay nadie aqui que pueda alcanzar su reputacion - -
Española strains as she reaches. She notices the servant

watching her and she scowls. He smiles at her. He
definitely saw everything!
ESPAÑOLA
(whispers angrily at Servant)
Look away! Go. Shoo!
Torna Atrás turns to her. Española tries to cover.
Casta, 46
ESPAÑOLA
Una mosca. Su zumbido. La espante. Shoo!
She demonstrates. Torna Atrás gives her a look, but

turns away again. Española immediately kicks at the
servant until he looks away. She returns to the
window and looks out. Her son is really gone. Panic!
TORNA ATRÁS
Y de todas maneras…estos plebeyos, tan plebeyos que son, declararan que conocen a mi padre, que
saben que es un borracho, mi abuelo un criminal, mi tatarabuela ganandose su propia libertad a
cuestas de su mismo lomo. Pero en mas traten de negar mi blancura, de desafiar mi peticion de
gracias al sacar, yo pienso que con usted en mi brazo, su cabello hacia atras, en un moño, en su
vestido entallado, un rebozo finisimo, y mi hijo - -
Española suddenly gestures for the servant to put

down the plate and put on her son’s coat. The servant
is confused: put down the plate? Down . . . on the
ground? Española stamps her foot, angrily.
Torna Atrás looks back at her. Española quickly

mimes like she is breastfeeding, using her son’s jacket
to cover the imaginary child.
TORNA ATRÁS
Si, nuestro querido hijo, vestido elegantemente en su chaleco, sus zapatillas hebilladas, de punta negra,
y sus calcetas, seremos una imagen, de una familia virtuosa y honrada, venerable - -
Servant finally puts his plate on the ground. Española

stuffs him into her son’s coat. She struggles to lift him
up. He is much heavier than her son. She grunts and
strains to hold him in her arms.
Torna Atrás reaches for another slice of papaya but

the plate is not there. He looks down at the platter on
the ground.
TORNA ATRÁS
Donde esta el niño?!? Donde esta?!
ESPAÑOLA
(straining)
Aqui esta. Light as a feather.
Casta, 47
She tries to smile, struggling with the servant in her
arms. Torna Atrás nods at her and turns back to the
audience, sighing.
TORNA ATRÁS
Si. Haremos…la pulcra imagen de una familia fina. Noble. Si.
A song begins quietly . . . suspended in air.
Casta, 48
INTERMISSION: EL CHUCHUMBÉ
Painter appears in another area of the room, led in by

the baby balloon Tente en el Aire. He smiles sleepily
at him.
PAINTER
To hold one’s self suspended mid-air.
(giggles, deliriously)
How precarious!
(to audience)
He never feels the earth beneath him. Never reaches the sky. He drifts in between . . .
Baby balloon tugs forward. Painter follows curiously.
PAINTER
He drifts away . . . where is he taking us?
The baby balloon begins to dance mid-air. Song

grows.
PAINTER
(laughs)
Look! Ready for the dancehall . . . This (song) used to be with drums but it terrified the Spanish: Los
tambores son demasiado! They took them away. But, like the ancestors . . .
Ensemble members enter and form a line behind the

Painter. Each ensemble member strikes a portrait
pose: Negra, Loba, La Macho, Castizo, Indio, Mestizo.
PAINTER
We change . . . we adapt . . . we go - -
Painter stomps his foot, providing percussion. The

ensemble poses begin to transform.
PAINTER
That’s the drum. Down and explode. Down and explode. Forward. Backward. Ladies are up, chest
out. Holding the skirts. Sway. Sway. Sway. It’s very scandalous, but looks fantastic. Let’s go!
Ensemble members pair off and dance. There are

three different tempos present.
Casta, 49
Breath. The couples suddenly stop, suspended in time
and space.
Breath. When the music kicks in again, the ensemble

continues to the dance, exchanging partners. From
zapateo to falda to volta to salsa y bachata, the dance
changes and transforms.
A procession might lead the audience to another space

in the Painter’s workroom. Painter has a brief
moment with each ensemble member before they exit.
As the song dies down, Painter finally drops to the

ground in the audience space and falls asleep.
Casta, 50
SCENE 9: INDIO Y LA NEGRA, CHINO CAMBUJO
Casta Portrait – An outdoor marketplace. Negra y

Indio lean into each other tenderly. Indio holds his
son Chino Cambujo, hugging him with both hands.
A display of fruit and vegetables is laid out on a table
before them. The parents quietly teach their son new
words as they feed him and each other bites of fresh
fruit.
LA NEGRA INDIO CHINO CAMBUJO

Cherimoya Chirimoya Lamatsapotl
Peach Durazno Yoloxokotl
Banana Platano Español Tsapaloli
Sapote Zapote Tzapotl
Jicama Jicama Xicamatl
Plums Ciruelas Masaxokotl
Negra feeds Indio a piece of fruit, then leans in to kiss

her.
LA NEGRA
(to Indio)
You, who in a sacred way, are a flower
You green-corn flower
You red jar flower
You passion fruit
You, my precious husband
You, blessed father
You, heavenly king
You have burst my heart into bloom
INDIO
(to Negra)
You, who in a sacred way, are a stone
You jade stone
You turquoise stone
You obsidian
You, my precious wife
You, blessed mother
You, heavenly queen
You have set my heart on fire
Casta, 51
They turn to their son.
LA NEGRA
You, who in a sacred way, are a tiny bird
You mockingbird
You hummingbird
You oriole
INDIO
You, our most precious son
You, blessed baby
You, heavenly child
You make our hearts sing
You are a resplendent quetzal
You, who in a sacred way, will soar above us all
Indio and Negra lean in again, smiling at each other

adoringly. We hear Painter begin to snore lightly.
A sharp break.
LA NEGRA
(sternly, at Painter)
What is this?
PAINTER
What . . .?
INDIO
(insistent, at Painter)
This, what is it?!
PAINTER & CHINO CAMBUJO

What is this . . . ?!
Lights shift.
Don Antonio enters. He examines the casta portrait

then turns to Painter, asleep on the ground.
DON ANTONIO
(coughs)
Ahem. AHEM!
Casta, 52
Don Antonio kicks at him. Painter quickly jumps to
his feet, wiping drool from his mouth.
PAINTER
I apologize . . . I apologize . . . I have been up all night and day - -
DON ANTONIO
(sourly)
Clever story I did not ask for. What is this?
PAINTER
This painting? It’s your commission! About halfway done, this is panel 9: Indio y Negra produce
Chino Cambujo - -
DON ANTONIO
(frowns)
They’re smiling.
PAINTER
Oh uh. . . yes . . . I suppose . . . they are pleased to sell at the market or perhaps to teach their son,
they speak in three languages - -
DON ANTONIO
“If the mixed blood is the offspring of a Negro and Indian, he is a most vile birth.” That is from the
King’s decree. Would you defy the King?
PAINTER
No, never - -
DON ANTONIO
I asked for an exact replica. I asked you to paint this:
He holds up the Painter’s reference. The casta portrait

onstage adjusts to match a violent image:
Casta, 53
PAINTER
Yes, I . . . I understand but I wanted to show - -
DON ANTONIO
(frowns)
You wanted to show . . . ?
PAINTER
I wanted to show . . . there is so much more here. Each panel is a story. A family, a real family I have
known, I have seen . . . I have dreamt of. I want to paint what I see, I want to paint the truth - -
DON ANTONIO
Whose truth? Yours? Who are you?
PAINTER
. . . I’m an apprentice.
DON ANTONIO
No, what are you? What is your caste?
PAINTER
(softly)
I’m . . . I . . . I don’t know what I am.
(pause)
I know that I am a painter. I know . . .
He looks at his Casta portrait. The image shifts back

to his original.
PAINTER
I am . . . here. I’m all of them. Father-Mother-Child. I can’t quite explain it but - -
DON ANTONIO
Let me give you some advice - -
PAINTER
(warily)
Yes - -?
DON ANTONIO
Paint the reference . . . If you have no patrons, you are not a painter. You are nothing. Have it
finished for me tomorrow.
Casta, 54
PAINTER
To - morrow?
DON ANTONIO
You’ll have it ready if you want to be paid.
Don Antonio exits. Painter sighs loudly. He

hurriedly prepares the next portrait.
He stops and looks out at the audience.
PAINTER
(building with anger)
You heard him. Paint the reference. Not art. Nothing artistic. “Would you defy the King?” They
defy him every opportunity they get. They don’t like something, something threatens their money?
They ignore it! Do you think we can just ignore . . . we, who have nothing, come from nothing . . .
we are the ones taxed for his gain, to fund his world wars. The King can’t even win a war . . . and
still, we pay the price. Everything for him, for them. Their image. Nothing is ours. There is nothing
for us.
(pause; breath)
Forgive me. Please forgive me. I have nothing else.
He sets up the next portrait.
Casta, 55
SCENE 10: CHINO CAMBUJO Y INDIA, LOBA
Casta Portrait - India holds her daughter Loba in her

arms. Loba holds a small bird figurine/toy in her
father’s hat. Chino Cambujo holds the edge of his hat
as he stands close to India, staring at her intently.
They hold this pose painfully, their portrait very strict
and restrained. An exact replica.
In the foreground, a table with various chinaware.

They are posed in an outdoor market place.
Painter perches on a stool to paint the portrait’s title.

He leans in very close to the canvas.
PAINTER
(tiredly)
Chino Cambujo y India produce Loba.
Loba begins to growl. Painter stops and looks up at

her, she freezes in place.
Painter continues to paint. Loba begins to growl

again, growing louder and louder.
LOBA
Grrrrrrr. I am a wolf . . .
PAINTER
(sighs)
You are not.
LOBA
(howls)
Aúúú! Wolf girl! Hear me cry at the moon, hanging so bright in the sky.
Painter tries to ignore her.
LOBA
Aúúú! Prowling around on dirt: dark, damp. Only your eyes see mine - -
PAINTER
I don’t see you.
LOBA
Casta, 56
(growls)
Grrrrrrr. Oh you see me. You see me eat this bird? I’ll eat it, one bite - - !
PAINTER
You’re going to eat a bird? Dressed like that?
LOBA
Who dressed me? Who would hide my thick, black, beautiful fur?
She paws at her mouth with her hands.
LOBA
You still give me teeth, sharp and pointed. You still give me hunger - -
PAINTER
The bird is porcelain, it’s not going to - -
She breaks the toy bird with her mouth and it shatters
into a million pieces. Her mouth is stained wet with
blood. Painter gasps in shock.
LOBA
Bones break! But the tongue? Tongues cannot break me.
She leaps from her mother’s arms and begins prowling

into the audience space. Painter tries to pick up the
broken bird pieces from the floor.
PAINTER
(softly)
Why would you - - ?
LOBA
Say what you will! I know what I am: a wild, magical creature. Try to cage me! I will not be
contained.
Painter follows her into the audience. He finally is

able to lift her and hold her in his arms. Under her
skirt, her long wolf tail peeks out and begins wagging
playfully.
LOBA
Told you. Wolf girl. You have to paint me a powerful, sacred - -
Casta, 57
PAINTER
I will paint you like the reference - -
Loba twists in his arms.
LOBA
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
PAINTER
I must finish, please - -
LOBA
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! You will make them see me. All parts of me.
PAINTER
They will never see us - -
LOBA
I will be seen. I will be seen! Only you can show them.
Loba jumps from his arms and runs off. Painter sits
down on his stool, stunned.
He turns to look at the portrait behind him. Chino

Cambujo and India drop their pose and exit. An
empty frame remains.
Casta, 58
SCENE 11: INDIO Y LOBA, ALBARAZADA
Painter turns to the empty frame. He begins the next

portrait. The palette is different: darker browns,
amber, a deep blue sky.
From the audience, Albarazada appears, carrying a

basket of zapotes. She opens her mouth and we hear a
loud crunch of static. Her voice is amplified, like a
loudspeaker recording. Eerily familiar.
She roams through the audience space, trying to sell

fruit.
ALBARAZADA
(amplified, plaintive)
Se venden . . . . . . ciruelas . . . . . . duraznos . . . . . . platanos . . . . . . o algunas otras frutas.
Indio appears inside the frame, a cobbler dressed in

ragged and torn clothing. He carries a basket of shoes
and tools. As Albarazada makes her way through the
audience, Indio watches nervously from inside the
panel.
Her mother Loba, finally appears in the audience.

Wolf Woman. She wears a burlap-like cloth wrapped
around her shoulders to help her carry a box filled
with fruit.
INDIO
(yells out at Loba)
Won’t you even consider my proposal - - ?
Loba ignores him. She tries to sell fruit to the

audience.
INDIO
Lorenza?!
He stands nervously at Loba’s side.
INDIO
Will you speak to me - - ?
Casta, 59
LOBA
I will not now. I am working. Which is precisely what you must do, if we are to eat something other
than fruit and stale bread this evening. Frutas?
ALBARAZADA
INDIO
I have a job. I have proper work.
He gestures to Painter, still holding his basket.
LOBA
It is not enough - -
INDIO
Well you cannot prowl the streets unaccompanied . . . I will not permit it!
LOBA
You permit that we starve?
INDIO
No one will starve, I promise you. I am just an apprentice now, but as I advance, we will have more.
We will have enough. This is why I propose you remain at home . . .
LOBA
I will not be trapped inside. I must keep moving, always moving. I must work.
(to daughter)
Come Izabel - -
ALBARAZADA
INDIO
But can’t you find work inside? A seamstress’ servant or . . . wet nurse?
LOBA
(shakes her head)
Rob our child to feed theirs? No, thank you.
(at audience)
Frutas?
Casta, 60
ALBARAZADA
INDIO
She may be weaned - -
Loba turns to him. Albarazada wanders further.
LOBA
(sharply)
No. It is the only meal she can depend on. Because it comes from me directly!
He holds onto Loba’s arm.
INDIO
You are not safe out here all alone - -
She pulls away.
LOBA
We are not safe at home either . . . understand? There is no place we are safe. So might as well earn a
wage, in case you decide to gamble away our dinner - -
INDIO
Lorenza, please I beg you. I beg you.
He grabs her again, holding on to her for support. He

falls to his knees.
INDIO
Do not let me fail in my duties as husband. Do not let them say I permit you to wander the streets
alone, endangering our small child. If you were to disappear - -
LOBA
I would have done so years ago. Stand up!
INDIO
The other men say their loved ones have vanished! In broad daylight! Taken from crowded streets in
plain sight. These women are never found again. Or if they do, not in a single piece. Where are they?
The mothers and wives and daughters. What happens to them?
LOBA
I meant you. A groveling husband in the open street is not an honorable look. Stand up!
Casta, 61
Indio slowly rises to his feet.
INDIO
If anything happened . . . to you or Izabel . . . I . . . I don’t know what I would do.
LOBA
Have faith. We must try to enjoy what little happiness is afforded us. It is so little. Trust that we are
well . . . for we are well . . . we are just hungry. I cannot watch our daughter suffer.
INDIO
I will work so you both never have to suffer again. I promise you - -
LOBA
Izabel?! Come. Where is she?!
Loba searches for her daughter.
LOBA
Izabel?! Izabel!
INDIO
Ohhhhh . . . no . . . no.
Indio drops to the ground again. Loba turns back and

growls at him.
LOBA
Grrrrrrrr. On your feet. Now! Do not sit on your heels when there is something you can do.
(calls out)
Izabel!?
Loba searches the audience, still gripping her fruit

basket.
LOBA
Izabel?! . . .
INDIO
She is vanished . . .
Loba turns back. Indio has disappeared.
LOBA
Where have you gone?
Casta, 62
She looks around her . . . frightened.
LOBA
Hello?
Don Antonio suddenly appears, opposite Loba. They

do not see each other.
DON ANTONIO
Where is it?
Loba exits. Painter stands.
DON ANTONIO
Where is my commission?
PAINTER
It . . . it was to be . . .
DON ANTONIO
Speak up.
PAINTER
This was to be “Indio y Loba produce Albarazada - -“
DON ANTONIO
Was it?
(pause)
Oh. You must think me a man of good humor. Of infinite patience, mercy and restraint. If only
those words were used to describe me.
He removes his gloves, menacingly. His hands are
stained with paint.
PAINTER
I know it is not what you asked for. So you will pay nothing, I will keep them all. I will paint them
for myself - -
DON ANTONIO
Yes, yes you paint for yourself. Just one of many abuses . . .
He approaches Painter, walking stick in hand.
Casta, 63
PAINTER
With all respect, there is nothing more between us. I am the one at a loss here. Lost hours, lost sleep
--
DON ANTONIO
I could commission anyone. I could’ve asked anyone to paint this. But I selected you. Do you have
any idea why?
Painter retreats, putting as much distance as he can

between himself and Don Antonio.
PAINTER
No.
DON ANTONIO
No? You’re the only painter of unknown parentage in the founding chapter of the royal academy.
You didn’t think it odd?
PAINTER
I did but . . . I thought I must have talent.
DON ANTONIO
Talent?
PAINTER
I have promise. Determination - -
DON ANTONIO
You are determined to remain what you always were, always will be: an unruly, ungrateful child
lacking sophistication and discipline. You shame all of us accepting a pension.
Don Antonio twists off the handle of his cane, pulling

out a small dagger.
PAINTER
What are you - -
DON ANTONIO
(chuckles)
Oh I’m not going to kill you.
Don Antonio turns to the empty portrait frame. He

stabs the image with his dagger, ripping it open.
Casta, 64
PAINTER
Stop! There is no reason to - - !
Don Antonio pulls away the torn canvas and reveals

the previous portrait underneath: Chino Cambujo y
India, Loba. He slashes it to pieces.
DON ANTONIO
There is every reason. This is our image to create. We made this New World. It is in our image. You
corrupt it entirely with crude, offensive - -
PAINTER
Then why not paint it yourself? Huh? Why commission me? You’re an artist . . . aren’t you?
Painter refers to his hands.
PAINTER
Aren’t you? You wear their costume but your hands . . . all cut and stained and rough. You’re just
like me - -
DON ANTONIO
(coldly)
I am nothing like you - -
PAINTER
So we are different. So you intend to destroy everything I create, for what? I have worked hard, just as
you, I have worked twice as hard. Just for my work to be seen here. For you . . . there will be spots
reserved, always. That’s just how the institutions are built. They are built for you. I just ask for my
one spot, I have earned it. I have worked for it - -
Don Antonio lifts the portrait frame and throws it to

the ground.
DON ANTONIO
You will never be a master painter.
Painter takes a step towards him. Don Antonio raises

his dagger.
DON ANTONIO
Go. Back to wherever you come from - -
PAINTER
I am from here - - !
Casta, 65
DON ANTONIO
Go.
Painter exits. Lights shift.
Casta, 66
SCENE 12: MESTIZO Y ALBARAZADA, BARCINO/A
In another part of the room, we see an interior space.

Albarazada combs through her daughter’s hair. She
looks over at Mestizo, who wears a torn jacket over a
shirt and pants that are slipping down, revealing his
undergarments. He points to the coin in his
daughter’s open hand, avoiding his wife’s eyes. Their
son, Barcino, holds out a small bowl of beads and
candle.
She looks over at her husband.
ALBARAZADA
Go, if you’re going to. Go! Why do you stay?!
Mestizo takes the coin from his daughter’s hand. His

son offers him a small bowl and candle.
MESTIZO
What? What is this?
BARCINO
You said you were sick. You can trade for - - !
He pushes past him. The bowl of beads drops from

Barcino’s hands and spill all over the floor.
Albarazada gasps.
MESTIZO
I cannot drink these.
Barcino drops to his knees and slowly gathers up all

the beads, replacing them in his bowl.
Mestizo moves through the audience to the back of

the room where a long table is set up like a bar
counter.
A Bartender stands behind the bar, carefully wiping

down the counter around a man (Painter) passed out
across it, with his face turned away from us.
Casta, 67
Mestizo saunters up and offers his daughter’s money.
MESTIZO
(grins)
Hey. Someone has stolen all your chairs . . .
BARTENDER
It’s a thieves market. But these particular thieves are high-ranking officials. It’s to discourage your
“unnecessary lingering” - -
MESTIZO
Is it? Then I may stand and drink.
Mestizo struggles to stand upright.
BARTENDER
May you?
The bartender kicks a stool or chair out from behind

the bar for Mestizo to sit.
BARTENDER
Here.
Mestizo slowly lowers himself down. Bartender fills a

glass of pulque and hands it to him. Mestizo tries to
offer the money but Bartender holds up a hand.
MESTIZO
(mumbles)
Thank you. Thank you.
He drinks. Bartender stares at him for a long beat.
BARTENDER
What’s the Indian element in your family? Your mother or father?
MESTIZO
The Indian element?
BARTENDER
You are too pale to be a casta but there is no White man who would dress like that, pants sagging
down to the Earth! I can’t tell what you are . . .
Casta, 68
MESTIZO
It’s a mystery, then. Or a secret I do not wish to tell.
BARTENDER
Mestizo. Yeah, yeah. I knew it.
MESTIZO
(shakes his head)
You knew . . . how?!
BARTENDER
Mestizos are slippery, slippery! Can never hold them in one place. Shape-shifter! Two worlds. Wear a
three-piece suit tomorrow and I would not recognize you.
MESTIZO
You will not recognize me tonight!
Mestizo drinks. Bartender watches him. Beat.
MESTIZO
Do you know the story of pulque? Where it comes from?
BARTENDER
(grins)
I know it comes from the back! We make three varieties - -
MESTIZO
No, no. Do you know how pulque was given to man?
BARTENDER
Pulque Gods? 400 rabbits nibbled on the leaf . . . found the juice of maguey? No? You’ve heard
different?
MESTIZO
Yes, different. It was the great god Quetzalcoatl, watching all of humanity. And everyone is
miserable . . . there is so little in our lives to inspire pleasure or joy. Quetzalcoatl wants everyone to
be happy. So he falls in love with a beautiful goddess Mayahuel - -
BARTENDER
Goddess of maguey - -?
MESTIZO
(nods)
Yes. He whisks her down from the heavens and as my mother would say, “They embraced.”
Casta, 69
BARTENDER
They had “the relations.”
MESTIZO
They turned into a tree with two branches.
BARTENDER
Oh shit!
MESTIZO
Mayahuel’s grandmother is fearsome demon - -
BARTENDER
I know her - -
MESTIZO
She’s not too happy with this turn of events, so she rallies an army of demons and they attack the
tree. Split in two. Mayahuel is ripped into pieces.
BARTENDER
(gasps)
Sad.
MESTIZO
Quetzalcoatl is heartbroken. He collects the pieces of his lover and buries them all over. All over.
Eventually Mayahuel’s remains grow into the first maguey plant.
BARTENDER
So . . . you’re drinking the blood of a dead goddess?
MESTIZO
Yes. Sweet, sweet blood! Gives me strength!
Mestizo holds up his glass to toast. Bartender holds

up an empty glass. They clink glasses and Mestizo
finishes his drink in one big gulp. Bartender pours
Mestizo a small glass of water.
BARTENDER
I have a story for you.
MESTIZO
(at water)
What is that?
Casta, 70
BARTENDER
Will you hear it?
Bartender passes them the glass of water. He waits

until Mestizo takes a drink. Painter stirs next to him
but they take no notice.
BARTENDER
There is a great, powerful man but he is quite miserable. I know he has no work because he visits
Sunday-Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday when everyone is paid Saturday. So he
doesn’t spend money he has earned.
MESTIZO
He’s a thief, then.
BARTENDER
No, I do not think he takes from a stranger. He steals from someone who knows him. Loves him.
Someone who will forgive him.
MESTIZO
I think . . . I’d like another drink now.
He holds out his daughter’s money.
BARTENDER
You must hear how the story ends.
MESTIZO
I know how it ends. He’s a drunk. He remains a drunk until he finally drowns himself in drink.
BARTENDER
Not this story.
MESTIZO
No? Will you send me to Church then? “He is saved! Again! Cut his hair!” You should see how that
went for my grandfather and his father and his father - -
BARTENDER
Oh I will send you to the priest, witch doctor, surgeon – whomever can heal you. I only know my
“potions” are not effective cures - -
Casta, 71
MESTIZO
(scoffs)
That’s precisely what they are! The Gods’ beverage! A divine gift! Priests would use this instead of
blood - -
BARTENDER
(frowns)
Not the Catholic priests - -
MESTIZO
Not the Catholics! Before them! Before everything is taken, changed, erased! This is what we have
left! This heart sacrifice survives with us. Through us! Gives us strength!
(pause)
You do not drink . . .
BARTENDER
No. No taste for it. I don’t know. I saw how sick it made my mother. Sick with drink, sick without.
Not what I would call a “woman of strength” - -
MESTIZO
Yet you serve pulque . . .
BARTENDER
I serve pulque.
MESTIZO
Hm. Then you must know your mother well. See her here every night.
BARTENDER
In some form. As you will see your children. One day.
MESTIZO
(scoffs)
My children? Here?! No. No, no.
Bartender points to the coin in Mestizo’s hand.
BARTENDER
Your daughter?
Painter turns his head to watch this exchange.

Mestizo stands up.
Casta, 72
BARTENDER
I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect - -
MESTIZO
What do you know about my family?!
BARTENDER
Nothing.
MESTIZO
Nothing - - ?
BARTENDER
Miguel, sit - -
MESTIZO
You know my name?
He steps back warily.
BARTENDER
That’s all I know . . .
Mestizo moves back through the audience. He stops

just outside the family portrait. He watches as
Albarazada finishes combing Barcina’s hair.
ALBARAZADA
Just one spot. One spot. All clean. Ah, my sweet, sweet girl.
Mestizo enters frame. He helps Barcino pick up the

last few beads from the ground. His son stares at him,
bewildered.
ALBARAZADA
Why have you returned so early? What is with you?
Mestizo places the coin back in his daughter’s palm.
MESTIZO
(sighs)
Slippery, slippery.
Back at the bar:
Casta, 73
PAINTER
(mumbles, drunkenly)
Mestizo y Albarazada . . . produce Barcina, Barcino.
BARTENDER
He speaks.
Bartender pours Painter a glass of water. Painter

graciously accepts it.
PAINTER
(mumbles)
You see future?
BARTENDER
Hm?
PAINTER
You can see the future?
Bartender wipes down the countertop.
BARTENDER
It’s not sight . . . it’s knowing.
PAINTER
What do you know about me?
Bartender stop and looks up.
BARTENDER
I know if the work calls: answer. Always answer.
The Bartender returns to work. Back to work.
Casta, 74
SCENE 13: INDIO Y BARCINA, ZAMBAYGO/A
An outdoor scene. A song begins.
From the left we see Indio slowly enter, he wears a

tumpline strapped across his forehead. He carefully
carries a large ceramic urn filled with water.
As he cuts through the audience space:
INDIO
(quietly)
Perdon. Perdoname.
From the right, Barcina enters with 2 older children.

Large textile pieces are lifted into the air and passed
through the audience, dividing and reshaping and
transforming the space. This is back-breaking work,
but the family finds a shared rhythm.
Painter enters and stands in the audience space,

watching the family work. He sketches as brightly
colored textile pieces pass over and through the space.
A shift in the song, work day is over.
Indio arrives in what will be the portrait space first

(no frame). He carefully sets down his ceramic urn.
He takes a breath. Next task: he lifts the urn to pour
water into a smaller vessel. He takes a breath. Next
task: he tries to pour an equal amount into each cup
but it is impossible . . . there is always one cup left
with a little bit less. He pours water between the cups
back and forth, adjusting the measurement.
Barcina and the children arrive. Indio passes each a

cup of water. He notices the cup in his hands has
more water than the others. Before anyone can drink,
he rearranges the order of the cups in their hands, so
that the children have more water. The family then
shifts positions, creating a secret hierarchy. Once they
Casta, 75
are satisfied with their final arrangement/ placement:
they drink and drink and drink.
Barcina hands a plate of cooked tamales to Indio. She

arranges and rearranges the tamales in a specific order.
Zambaygo and Zambayga wait patiently behind her,
small plates in hand.
Barcina turns away to place a tamale on Zambaygo’s

plate. The panel suddenly freezes.
PAINTER
Indio y Barcina produce Zambaygo, Zambayga.
Painter returns to his studio. Back to work.
Casta, 76
SCENE 14: CASTIZO Y MESTIZA, CHAMIZO
In the far distance, we hear a violin riff. A faint reprise

of Castizo’s song.
A dark, interior space. An older Castizo rolls cigarettes,

his clothing tattered and torn. Mestiza sits in the
background at a table, her head in her hands as she
counts at the very last of their tobacco stock. Their son
Chamizo plays with a tray in the middle ground,
propped up next to him is a cut coconut.
PAINTER
Castizo y Mestiza produce Chamizo.
Castizo stares out at the audience as he works.
CASTIZO
Do you hear it too? We’ve heard this song before. Remember?
He hums along with the violin riff.
CASTIZO
It is alright. I would not recognize me either. My younger costume: expensive three-piece suit,
embroidered waist coast. A wig always. In all weather. Clever disguise. For a clever performance.
A sour note. The song slips out of key.
CASTIZO
He is out of tune now. Did you hear that?
Castizo hums along, in the correct key.
MESTIZA
He’s down a whole step.
CASTIZO
Thank you. You hear it.
MESTIZA
I hear it.
Casta, 77
CASTIZO
(mutters)
Does no one think to tell him? No one thinks to say, “Man, you are out of it?!”
Beat.
MESTIZA
You miss it.
Castizo stops and looks at her.
CASTIZO
No.
MESTIZA
No? Not all the money, fine clothes, most luxurious palace - -
CASTIZO
Hacienda. No. That was never my home. Everything about that place told me: you don’t belong
here. This is not for someone like you. The only thing that ever felt like me, like truly my own . . .
was music. I can say anything, everything I am feeling and anyone could understand. No boundaries
between us, between the worlds. All that’s gone now. My wife - -
Mestiza stops counting and looks up at him.
CASTIZO
(at audience)
My first wife. She burnt my violin in the fireplace. Said if she could not stop my waggling fingers, she
would have my most prized possession.
(pause)
All in the past now. Another lifetime. For me and my son.
His son looks up at him.
CASTIZO
Your brother. I’ve seen him on the street.
MESTIZA
Did you really? Where’s that?
CASTIZO
Pulqueria. Close to here.
Casta, 78
MESTIZA
Oh no - -
CASTIZO
No, not like that. He’s one of them. An officer. Bringing order to these wild, unruly streets. New
laws to govern the poor, to tell us where we may shit, stand, shit.
(sharply to son)
Do not repeat that.
MESTIZA
Did you speak? Did he recognize you?
Castizo shakes his head.
CASTIZO
(sighs)
What could I say to him? He rides out of city center, to the poorest neighborhood to do what? We
can just barely survive, we have nothing here . . . and still they want to bleed us dry. They wait us to
make some small mistake, break the laws we cannot understand so they can throw us in jail, then to
the labor camps. What do you say to a son who could do that? I could not speak. I had no words.
MESTIZA
Perhaps if he knew you - -
CASTIZO
He’s Creole now. Americano. Very much so. He would not let that status go for the sake of . . .
knowing my name and face. I’m sure his mother has poisoned his mind with all kinds of evil things
about me - -
MESTIZA
I’m sure some are true!
Beat. They both explode with laughter. Chamizo

cackles with them. A cloud of black smoke slips from
his lips. He quickly begins to cough. More black
smoke fills the air.
CASTIZO
He is still sick. We must make him rest.
He holds his son close. Mestiza joins them, patting

her son’s back gently.
Casta, 79
MESTIZA
His fever’s passed. He just wanted to help.
CASTIZO
Take a breath son. Breathe. In. And Out.
His parents breathe with him. The smoke clears for a

bit. Chamizo’s face begins to sprout smallpox blisters.
MESTIZA
(gasps)
His face . . .
The coconut also begins to sprout blisters, a

frightening image of disease and decay.
MESTIZA
(to Castizo)
He’ll be alright, won’t he?!
Black smoke rolls in. Castizo looks out at the audience.
CASTIZO
What could I say? I had no words.
Castizo lifts up a violin, glowing red hot in his hands.

He plays what he can of his song until the instrument
is charred and burnt through.
Painter takes what is left of his violin, a handful of

soot. With his hands, he begins to paint the next
portrait.
Casta, 80
SCENE 15: MULATO Y TENTE EN EL AIRE, NO TE ENTIENDO
An older La Macho poses grandly, dressed in tattered

clothes.
As La Macho speaks, Painter works to transform his

image with a scraggly beard and jaunty hat. Painter
dirties La Macho’s cloak with handfuls of soot.
LA MACHO
La Macho.
Only four times have I been imprisoned.
One, “dresses in the suit of a man.”
Two, “plays pelota with the men.”
Three, “prefers the company of women, like a man”
Four, “makes a pact with the Devil, to become a man.”
I make a pact, yes, but they record it wrong. It’s not to become a man. It’s more than man. Strong
and powerful. A transformation, the past is still present but concealed.
He squats down and digs into his pockets.
LA MACHO
Four stones: black, brown, red, white. Put in water.
(he carefully shakes the cup)
Bumping together, bleed into another. Black stone turns green. Brown stone turns yellow. Red stone
turns blue. White stone to grey.
He demonstrates for the audience. His cup glows

different colors. He removes the stones and anoints
himself.
LA MACHO
You anoint yourself.
He offers the cup of water to whatever audience is
nearby.
LA MACHO
Yumara. Achula. Now you can do anything. No fear. Escape the masters. Win every heart. Remain
uncaught, for fifty years now.
Casta, 81
He opens his shirt: Painter creates an undershirt made
of tigridia (a spotted, lilly-like flower).
LA MACHO
Tigridia or Ocēlōxōchitl or “jaguar flowers” worn over my breasts, under my clothes. They make me
unrecognizable. No one has found me.
A song begins: suspended in air. A balloon floats in

next to him.
TENTE EN EL AIRE (O.S.)

Tente En El Aire . . .
LA MACHO
Except her. She has found me. Found my heart.
Following the balloon head is the body of Tente En

El Aire. She poses next to La Macho.
TENTE EN EL AIRE
She has . . . a hard time standing still . . . in one place.
LA MACHO
Makes for a good match. A strong bond. Tethered together, no matter what might befall us.
(to Painter)
We have a child as well.
PAINTER
Do you?
TENTE EN EL AIRE
Yes. A son. He rides a mule.
PAINTER
I . . . don’t think we can bring an animal in here . . . but I will paint . . .
Painter paints their son No Te Entiendo, carried in a

sling on her back. The baby wears a brightly colored
crown on the child’s head. His tiny baby butt cheeks
peek out from the bottom of his torn sling.
PAINTER
No Te Entiendo.
Painter paints a mask on the face of No Te Entiendo:
an upside down question mark.
Casta, 82
LA MACHO
What do you call him?
PAINTER
No Te Entiendo. La Macho y Tente En El Aire produce - -
TENTE EN EL AIRE
No Te Entiendo.
La Macho leans and gently touches the hands of his

son.
LA MACHO
(lovingly)
I don’t understand you.
TENTE EN EL AIRE
My son.
A shift, a new song. Painter quickly exits.
Casta, 83
SCENE 16: NO TE ENTIENDO Y INDIA, TORNA ATRAS
Painter becomes No Te Entiendo. He stands posed
with India in the wilderness, holding his paintbrush
and palette. He wears a mask that is an upside down
question mark and a brightly colored crown on his
head. India carries their child Torna Atras on their
back in a large basket. A dead armadillo and gourds
rest on a rock on the foreground.
Painter/No Te Entiendo looks out at the audience.

Two ensemble members enter as art patrons, dressed
in noble garb. They regard the final portrait as if it
hangs in a gallery space.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 1
I know you. I know your face. I would not forget a face so lovely. Tell me your name again.
No Te Entiendo looks at them.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 2
It is Mestiza. It is Castizo. It is Mulata Morisco.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 1
Something more exotic? Albina. Lobo. China Cambuja. Tente En El Aire - -
NO TE ENTIENDO
(chuckles quietly)
To hold one’s self up in the air? How precarious . . .
India laughs with him.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 2
Is that what it means? Grifo. Zambayga. Albarazada. Chamizo. No Te Entiendo.
NO TE ENTIENDO
That’s right . . .
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 1
I have many more names you could be. Gibaro. Harnizo. Jarocho. Lunarejo.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 2
Mequimistos. Octavon. Puchuela, Ahí te´estas - -
Casta, 84
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 1
I know the word.
INDIA
Then say it.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 2
Ahhhhuhhhhhhhhh???? I like to say. For it is vague, therefore easier - -
No Te Entiendo breaks out of the portrait, India

following.
NO TE ENTIENDO
Easier to say what I am.
Another Ensemble Member enters.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 3
(directly addresses No Te Entiendo)
No le dejes! Es ruido!
NO TE ENTIENDO
Ni lo ha tocado - -
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 2
He is wearing my clothes.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 1
You do understand . . . there is a kind of order in one’s brain, a system with which we arrange sight
and memory and dreams . . .
NO TE ENTIENDO
I can jump between worlds in an instant. I am in two worlds. Three . . . four . . .
Another Ensemble Member enters. They try to touch

No Te Entiendo’s face. He steps out of reach.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 4
O Ahhhhuhhhhhhhhh???? O precious and admired! With a cheek so pale! I do truly perceive myself
in you.
Ensemble Member 3 begins to smoke a cigarette.

They reach a hand out to No Te Entiendo.
Casta, 85
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 3
There you are. There you are.
Ensemble Member 2 takes the cigarette from

Ensemble Member 3’s mouth and begins rolling it.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 2
Many who are born in this particular kingdom are much darker in complexion, he may lighten up
with age . . .
Ensemble Member 4 gestures with a knife in hand.

No Te Entiendo jumps back.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 4
Pero yo pienso que con usted en mi brazo, su cabello hacia atras, en un moño, en su vestido
entallado, un rebozo finisimo, y mi hijo - -
Ensemble Member 3 lifts Torna Atras from India’s

back. They have another cigarette in his mouth. Black
smoke curls from the corner of his mouth.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 3
They told me you made not a sound when you were born. A silent moonlight creature.
ENSEMBLE MEMBER 4
Haremos…la pulcra imagen de una familia fina. Noble. Si.
Ensemble Members 3 and 4 struggle with Torna Atras

in their arms. He suddenly drops from their hands
and breaks into a thousand tiny pieces. The Ensemble
Members all step back in shock.
No Te Entiendo drops to their feet, tries to pick up

each piece but they will not fit together.
NO TE ENTIENDO
Turn back.
No Te Entiendo finally stops and reaches both hands

up to where their eyes might be. They pull their mask
off. Painter is revealed.
PAINTER
I know you. My son.
Casta, 86
DEPARTURE
A new song starts. A departure.
Painter puts on the costume of a nobleman. A master

painter.
Behind him, a holy portrait forms. A traditional La

Virgen. The image transforms: Tonantzin. The image
transforms again: La Virgen (Morena).
Painter stops and admires this image.
PAINTER
Nican mopohua how the great marvel our Lord has made through the medium of the always virgin,
Saint Mary. The Perfect Virgin Mother Goddess, our Queen Guadalupe, miraculously appears at
Tepeyac. She’s only a young girl, maybe 14 or 15, yet she addresses Juan Diego as - -
LA VIRGEN/TONANTZIN/LA VIRGEN MORENA

Noxocoyouh.
PAINTER
My son. It is a powerful, sacred image. I have painted her many times, in many forms. The original
was made with 4 distinct kinds of painting – oil, tempera, gouache, fresco – all present together, the
same work, the same virgin canvas. It is an American marvel, for sure. Just like this kingdom, made
with 4 distinct peoples – indigenous, European, African, Asian – all present together. One might
consider it a cruel monstrosity, a terrible deformity of time and place and people. But I see an image
of the most complicated beauty. Though everyone is different, all is the same, as it all comes from
God.
(pause, to audience)
They will write me the greatest painter in all of Mexico. I am known as Criollo, Creole which is . . .
(he shakes his head)
Which is the fierce pride of this land. And I am proud too, proud Americano. But this is just a
costume worn, that of master painter, master teacher, father and husband. Underneath it all, it is the
same brown, poor, lowly apprentice aspiring to create all what mortal hands cannot: a pure, divine
image that will tell the truth. I will never comprehend exactly how I am to fit into this world. But I
know, I know this in my heart: I am supposed to be here. All that I am, all that you, are will be seen.
We will be seen.
Blackout.
END OF PLAY
Casta, 87

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CASTA

BILINGUAL DRAFT: May 13, 2018

1785, Mexico City. An artist’s workshop. Arrival

As audience members arrive, they play a quick “game

The audience space is divided into four Casta sections

When all Casta seats have been claimed, Ensemble

At the start of show, PAINTER sits before a huge,

He admires his reference print.

He holds up a paint swatch with 4 different skin tones

He holds the paint swatch up to his face for the

He pulls out another reference image: a casta series (in

DON ANTONIO, a criollo nobleman dressed in a

He inspects the room carefully, with a frown.

Don Antonio gestures to the reference print with a

Don Antonio turns to leave.

Don Antonio turns back.

Don Antonio gives a stern, sour expression.

He offers his hand.

Don Antonio sniffs. He exits, with flourish.

He opens up the reference print again. He stares at

He begins to paint. Lights shift.

Casta Portrait – We see Español-Peninsular only in

Painter watches from the audience.

India shakes her head.

Mestiza slowly raises her slice of pineapple and takes a

He removes his hat, adjusts his wig awkwardly.

India strokes her daughter’s hair.

India touches the necklaces around her neck.

He starts to leave, then turns back.

India smiles politely.

He tips his hat and awkwardly steps out of the

India leans down to kiss her.

Painter prepares the next portrait.

Casta Portrait – Mestiza wears a long headdress. She

Painter narrates from the audience, nibbling on a slice

She pulls him away for a second. Castizo whines and

He kisses Mestiza’s cheek.

Castizo begins to hiccup quietly. Mestiza hoists him

He leans in and kisses his son.

He notices something in the distance.

Painter prepares the next portrait.

Casta Portrait – Castizo holds a violin, sharing its bow

He grins and returns to his painting.

Castizo reaches with the bow, trying to drag it across

Castizo smiles at his son and steps away.

He begins to play a little riff on the violin.

She glares at him.

She opens her fan and begins fanning herself.

She fans herself faster, furiously. He frowns at her.

Española tries to interject throughout. Their son

Beat. They both explode with laughter. Baby Español

She studies him.

He makes a serious face to try to match hers.

She hits Castizo playfully with her fan. Their son us

Painter prepares the next portrait.

Casta Portrait – Español-Criollo holds a pipe in one

La Macho runs off. Español frowns at La Negra.

La Macho runs in again. She holds out the lighter and