There is an immediate jolt of dark humor in this print: a skeleton, upright and purposeful, offers up a string of fish as if hawking them at market. The skeletal figure is dressed in a striped skirt and vest, its bony hand gripping the catch of the day, while a woven basket hangs from the other arm. The lines are bold, almost rough-hewn, and the stark black-and-white palette gives the scene a punchy clarity.

The empty eye sockets seem to meet our gaze, inviting us to consider the absurdity—and perhaps the inevitability—of commerce and mortality entwined. The fish, wide-eyed and limp, dangle as mute witnesses to the skeleton’s trade. This is the world of José Guadalupe Posada, whose prints from the late nineteenth to early twentieth century made the calavera—a skeleton figure—an icon of Mexican popular art. Created sometime between about 1880 and 1910, this image belongs to a tradition of satirical broadsides and street prints that poked fun at society, politics, and death itself.

Such works were often commissioned by publishers to reach a broad public, pasted on walls or sold for a few centavos. The Metropolitan Museum of Art now holds this print, a testament to how Posada’s biting wit and lively linework have outlasted the ephemeral world they once lampooned. Look again at the skeleton’s grin: is it mocking us, or simply doing business as usual?