Why Frida Kahlo Matters

Don’t be ashamed—you had barely heard of Frida Kahlo until a recent trip to Mexico City. Oh wait, that’s me. Anyway, here’s the story behind the artist who has posthumously achieved mythic status.

 

A Brief Bio

Frida Kahlo (1907 – 1954) was blessed and cursed. Vibrant and debilitated. European and indigenous. Bold and fragile.

Born in Mexico City and spending much of her life in the now-famed Casa Azul (Blue House), Kahlo was no stranger to hardship. At age six, she contracted polio, leaving her right leg atrophic. At age eighteen, a bus accident left her impaled with an iron handrail and literally shattered. After months of convalescence, she was able to pick up the pieces, though not without multiple surgeries and unwelcome chronic pain.

It was during this time that a childhood interest in art became a passion, and the stretches of solitude left her with an obvious subject—herself.

Her self-portraits would become renowned, as would her tumultuous relationship with the muralist Diego Rivera, twenty-one years her senior. Throughout their two separate marriages, infidelity was not an exception but rather the rule. The drama also filtered into the political realm, and the couple’s communist leanings led them to provide shelter for the exiled Leon Trotsky prior to his eventual assassination.

While Kahlo found success during her lifetime, her star rose decades after her death, aided in part by a biography, a film (Frida starring Selma Hayek), and a central role in multiple other works of art. Her last painting, Viva la Vida (Long Live Life), seen here, even inspired a Coldplay track.

 

An Acronym

None of the above, however, answers why Kahlo’s life and work resonate to this day. To address that question and provide a shout out to the acronym-obsessed medical profession that Kahlo would have joined if not for the aforementioned accident, I’ve created this nonsense.

Feminism

In Kahlo’s work, the unabashed female experience is on full display—mustache, unibrow, breasts, and then some. Check out an example.

Resilience

Clearly not handed the best deck of cards, Kahlo took the life she had and ran with it.

Indigenous culture

With a father of German descent and a mother of mixed Spanish and indigenous descent, Kahlo began to identify with her indigenous heritage, exemplified by her clothing (seen here) and anti-colonial themes.

Dolor

That’s Spanish for pain, something that defined Kahlo’s entire adult life.

Autobiography

Kahlo’s work was largely autobiographical, showcasing issues regarding identity (as above), body image, and fractured relationships. In telling her story, her intellect and eccentricities were hard to miss.

Kafka

As in Kafkaesque, a word I’m clearly misusing as I don’t exactly know what it means. The point is that Kahlo’s art dabbled in surrealism, rooted in reality but complemented by the bizarre and illogical.

América Latina

It’s not exceedingly common for the English-speaking world to open its arms to outsiders, but Kahlo’s work had crossover appeal. Along the way, she showed the powers that be that Mexico and América Latina (Latin America) were more than a collection of corrupt politicians, military conflicts, and colonial leftovers.

Hedonism

Great artists aren’t known for self-care, and Kahlo was no exception. A heavy smoker and drinker, Kahlo also maintained numerous romantic relationships with both sexes, proving that she was quite comfortable with self-indulgence.

Love

The post-accident years would not have been possible without the love and support of her immediate family. And despite the histrionics with Rivera, his presence served as an anchor (and inspiration for pieces like this).

Overdose

As Kahlo’s health deteriorated, she required amputation of her right leg. She knew the end was near, and while pneumonia and pulmonary embolism have been offered as the cause of death, her biographer suggests that an intentional overdose of pain medication could have been in play. In fact, the last entry in her diary reads Espero alegre la salida y espero no volver jamás (I look forward to leaving and I hope never to return).

 

Intrigued? Here’s a link to more art (and less acronyms).

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