TRIPPING OUT

Writer Alexandra Cheney travels to Guatemala and Mexico with the owners of the S.F. global-decor shop St. Frank in search of authentic handicrafts of a preserval assist

Two S.F. shop owners search Central America for cultural handicrafts in need of a preservation assist

From the mountain villages of Guatemala to the outskirts of Mexico City, Christina Bryant, 33, and Steph Peng, 29, hunt for artisans to feature in the colorful inventory of global textiles and housewares at their Presidio Heights flagship store, St. Frank (3665 Sacramento St., San Francisco, stfrank.com). Unwittingly named after St. Francis of Assisi, the son of a textile merchant who gave his life to supporting the poor, the glass-front shop features handmade artisan pieces sourced from 28 countries, including mud cloths from Mali and alpaca throws from Peru.

“Once a textile is lost, the cultural history communicated through the craft is also lost,” says Bryant, a Pac Heights resident and former art historian who thrives on the unexpected discovery of a street market nestled in a tree-lined boulevard or an oft-overlooked shop. “The quality of that amazing handiwork is disappearing, and we want to make sure it’s preserved.”

The pursuit of protecting centuries-old handicrafts also includes an element of economic empowerment: The artisans — the cultural torchbearers, if you will — receive a fair wage for their work. The new St. Frank collaborators are endorsed by reputable nonprofits and other boots-on-the-ground insiders. “We care about authentic products. We want to know how they’re made. Our collection is full of pieces with stories,” says Bryant. “For us, traveling around the world to discover something or someone special, whether it’s a one-of-a-kind textile or a new favorite street-food vendor, is more than just wanderlust, it’s a way of life.”

PROOF OF LIFE

Although most tourists visit Antigua, Guatemala, for its 17th and 18th century ruins (the entire town is a Unesco World Heritage site), Bryant goes in search of a two-story, blush-colored building that houses a market filled with women working their looms, weaving textiles by hand. She rubs her fingers against the seams of a blanket she’s eyeing, noting that the seams are finished a little too precisely. Though the striping and floral details are handwoven, the cotton-and-wool blankets are actually machine-made, making it nearly impossible to trace their origins. Bryant moves on.

HOW BAZAAR

The Thursday and Sunday markets of Chichicastenango, Guatemala pack a cobblestone plaza anchored by the 400-year-old Iglesia de Santo Tomás, a small church at the center of this mountain town. Clouds of incense and the sweet smell of fresh cempasúchil (marigolds) fill the air. Tethered to the villagers’ backs are tzutes, brightly colored carrying cloths packed with earth-toned vintage textiles, beautiful huipil and handcrafted leather bracelets and belts. Some villagers trek through the night, climbing mountains and descending valleys to reach the isolated town. From a single booth in the bustling market, Bryant sources vintage huipil, which she repurposes into pillows and uses for framed textile art. The seller, an indigenous woman, scouts various regions in the country to find singular patterns of embroidery, hand sewn to represent different villages.

ETERNAL AFFAIRS

Many of the people laid to rest in the Chichicastenango cemetery are indigenous Mayan K’iche who believe the deceased should be constantly celebrated and honored. Each grave is painted in its inhabitant’s favorite colors, from cerulean to orange to rose. Locals stroll the grounds with offerings of both living and sacrificial chickens, tin sculptures of a praying Jesus, and brown bottles of Gallo, the national beer.

JOY RIDE

Nim Po’t is Antigua’s robust emporium housing Guatemalan artisan handicrafts. For Bryant, it’s a hub for exploration and discovery, as craft collectives and workshops throughout the country often get their start here. The handpainted toy “chicken buses” are replicas of the local transportation, into which people, luggage and live poultry cram. Their drivers speed through narrow mountain passes and across the wild, overgrown countryside. Bryant picks up a basketful for the store.

TIES THAT BIND

In Mexico City, comida either prefaces or replaces siesta. Consider it a boozy late lunch that folds into the evening. Contramar restaurant is always a must-stop for Bryant and Peng. It’s also an inspiration: The owners, Pablo Bueno and Gabriela Cámara (who also owns Cala and Tacos Cala in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley), have taken beloved national favorites and modernized their presentation. Traditional corn cakes, for instance, are topped with adobo-rubbed kingfish. Offering fresh seafood in the landlocked capital became Cámara’s signature, central to her rise. Reinterpreting a classic requires a careful edit to bridge the gap between an art form’s heritage roots and modern-day potential.

LOVELY BONES

Thoughtful editing allows Bryant to appeal to modern-day consumers yet preserve the art form. Here, Bryant collaborates with a budding ceramicist who hails from the outskirts of Mexico City. His family is known for its Tree of Life sculptures (intricate altars of brightly painted clay that depict the Last Supper or the birth of Jesus), and he and Bryant reinterpret a Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) skull exclusively for St. Frank. Instead of a traditional pointed nose and open mouth, Bryant chooses to emphasize the cheekbones and paint the nose and mouth on the surface. “I wanted a happier-looking skull,” she says. “By simplifying the color, adding foliage and altering the shape, the traditional skull goes from something that can be perceived by the American eye as scary to celebratory.”