Another Face Of México

By Aundria McMillan Humphrey

In San Miguel de Allende, not every keeper of tradition stands in the spotlight. One such guardian is Bill LeVasseur, founder and curator of Another Face of México, a mask museum tucked quietly into the cultural fabric of the city. With 656 ceremonial masks—each worn in actual dances—his museum is more than a collection. It’s a living archive of fading languages, ancestral stories, and sacred symbols passed down by the elders of México’s indigenous communities.

For over 35 years, Bill has traveled to remote villages, guided by friendship with an indigenous anthropologist and a deep reverence for the Wisdom Keepers—especially the women—who hold the oral histories of their people. What began as a hobby became a calling. His museum, now open for 17 years, reflects the breadth of ceremonies across México: biblical reenactments, historical commemorations, rites of passage, and seasonal celebrations, such as Carnival. The museum is organized by ceremony, and the dancers are grouped visually. Plaques that tell the mask stories are in English and Spanish. Clips of ceremonial dances are presented on a screen in the museum.

Each mask carries the dust of ceremony. They’ve danced through birth, death, marriage, and the transition from adolescence to adulthood. Bill doesn’t consider a mask authentic unless it has been worn in a ceremony. His criteria for acquisition are intuitive: sometimes it’s a gut feeling, sometimes it’s the age, symmetry, or craftsmanship. Masks become more valuable when the maker has passed away—or when the village that birthed the tradition no longer performs it.

Tradition, however, is not static. Bill shares a quiet revolution: in one village, a master carver has begun teaching women the craft, responding to waning interest among men. “The women who come to learn aren’t just curious,” Bill says. “They’re committed.” Where sons once carved wood and painted memory into it, daughters now pick up the knife. It’s not nostalgia—it’s preservation through reinvention. This shift reflects broader transformations in cultural expression around San Miguel.

Reverence still lives, just not always in the ways people expect. And through it all, Bill remains a witness, never the centerpiece. He’s collected hundreds of masks—another 350 to 400 are housed in his Mask Gallery, where pieces are available for sale—but more importantly, he’s collected conversations. Stories of memory fading, celebration changing form, and tradition being borrowed, broken, or reborn.

One of his most remarkable pieces, though he’d never call it a “prize,” is a 150-year-old Centurion mask worn to impersonate a Roman guard marching Jesus to Calvary. It’s a haunting relic of faith and performance, a testament to the endurance of storytelling through ritual.

Bill’s passion for education is as strong as his passion for preservation. He delights in teaching, especially when children visit with their teachers, many of whom see the museum as a historical archive. Bill gently corrects them: these masks reflect contemporary life in thousands of villages where ceremonies are still alive. His lectures help visitors see beyond the surface—to understand the spiritual and social significance behind the artistry.

In a brilliant fusion of tradition and technology, Bill has published a museum catalogue now connected to a facial recognition app. Readers can point their device at a mask in the book, and the app will download the ceremony in which that mask was worn, becoming an actual witness to the ceremony. It’s a digital bridge to ancestral memory and tradition.

Ultimately, Another Face of México is exactly what its name suggests: a glimpse into a México that many tourists never see. Through masks, Bill LeVasseur preserves the fragments others might miss. He gathers quiet truths between the fireworks, ensuring that the spirits in the masks never lose their voices.

As for the future of Another Face of México, Bill envisions the museum remaining as it is for now—a quiet, powerful space of reflection and learning. But in time, he hopes to find someone who will carry the torch, someone who understands the weight of the stories and the spirit behind the masks. He’s also exploring ways to archive the museum through video, ensuring that even as time moves forward, the ceremonies, voices, and artistry remain accessible to generations yet to come.

Aundria McMillan Humphrey, slowdowngranny.com & founder, Kickbutt Ageless Living.