So today let me tell you about one of my favorite people who ever lived: Frida Kahlo. I’ve talked about her on my old blog. There is not one woman in history that I feel a greater connection with than her. She is my favorite artist of all time. Why? Well, here’s the thing: her art isn’t particularly beautiful, in fact, sometimes It can be downright hideous, BUT, more than any artist to come before or after, I have never witnessed a person who was able to paint with their soul as she did. In her work, I see her pain, her sadness, her love, her happiness…. I can see it all. Her willingness to share her life so beautifully through her art, makes her very special. So I think she is the most amazing artist who ever lived, but more than that, to me, she is almost like the sister I never met.
Let’s start with the obvious: the unfortunate unibrow. Yep, I’ve got that. I tweeze mine to an inch of its life, but I can not deny that I have one. I can thank my dear old daddy for that one. It’s the Mediterranean blood. It makes a girl furry LOL. Thanks daddy! I love how Frida is not shy about painting that in, or her faint beginnings of her mustache. She wears them like a badge of honor, and though I can’t put my finger on why, it makes me proud. I just adore unapologetic women. I love women who are not afraid to say, “this is me, take me as I am.”
Mostly, I identify with Frida because of her relationship with her husband, artist Diego Rivera. Like my husband, Diego was a fat ugly bastard, but he had talent, charisma, and the ladies loved him. Diego, like Dr ManWhore, was a vile philanderer. He didn’t understand how blessed he was to have the love of such a unique woman until it was too late. Is it the nature of men to chase glitter when they have a diamond?
It is both a pain and a pleasure to be able to love so much and so deeply. But I kind of imagine, that like me, Frida wouldn’t have been able to live any other way. This is the way it is when you live with passion, and this is what makes us what we are. Perhaps we are not everyone’s cup of tea, but not every A-hole knows how to appreciate a fine vintage.
Frida was Madonna before the 80s ever happened. She was fierce, unapologetic, a feminist, political, and sexually liberated. She was leaps and bounds ahead of her time. I have a major girl crush on her! When I lived in London, I went to see her exhibit in Paris. And now, while living in south Florida, there was no doubt I would revisit my favorite lady of all time.
Eeww, let me start by saying that taking the bus to Ft Lauderdale is highly unpleasant. I have got to get a car asap! The people who ride the bus in Broward County… I’m not sure how to put it kindly… let me just say that they are not a classy bunch. Geez, I’ve come a long way from being a doctor’s wife being driven around in a luxury Mercedes. It’s slightly disheartening to be honest. It was scorching hot, and it was more than an hour’s drive each way to the Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera Exhibit at the NSU Art Museum. When the doors opened for me to get off the bus, I was assaulted by the scents of homelessness and pee. Yeah, I really love Frida. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.
The exhibit was comprised of works by Frida, Diego, and some of their Mexican contemporaries. I have selected some of my favorites to share with you today.
My favorite part of the exhibit was a documentary they were showing in one of the exhibition rooms on the life of Frida Kahlo. It left me very touched. It left me thinking of my Napoleon actually. While there is no love left in my heart for my ex husband, the truth is that there is not a day that goes by when I don’t think of Napoleon. He is the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, and the last person I think of at night. I try so hard to be strong, to convince myself that I don’t need him– I don’t NEED him, but oh how I want him. Watching that documentary, that dull ache in my heart started to burn. When I got home, I did something that maybe I shouldn’t have done. I wrote to Napoleon and told him how much I loved him and missed him. He has not replied. Perhaps it is the destiny of women who love so much and so deeply. I don’t know. It hurts. You know, I know that writing to him was probably not a wise decision for someone who is trying so hard to rediscover her independence. Strangely I don’t regret it. I love him. I tried. It probably wont be the last time.
If I have to experience this sadness, I couldn’t be in better company than with my dear Frida. I don’t want to live a life without passion. And Frida? That woman knew passion. The pains and the trials of her life, which were supposed to be private, she painted them in full color. It was scandalous to be sure, but it was a life lived with honesty. That is something I really respect. As Frida wrote on her very last piece of art “viva la vida.” I concur whole heartedly.