June 6, 1907 an artist was born. I’ve always admired Frida Kahlo. I felt her life was extremely tragic and her life utterly fascinating. She lived a majority of her life in extreme pain which she portrayed through her artwork. I had seen her exhibit “Frida Kahlo y su Mundo” this March in Brussels, Belgium while visiting family. The exhibit was amazing and just solidified my admiration for her.
A majority of her work are self-portraits where she illustrates her pain in various ways. She developed polio as a child which left her with one leg shorter and thinner than the other leaving her with a limp. She was also in a bus accident and she was frequently bedridden and in between states of life and death.
Her relationship with artist Diego Rivera was also a roller coaster ride. They married. Divorced. Married again. He was a womanizer and even cheated on her with her own sister! But Frida wasn’t an angel herself. She cheated on him with Leon Trotsky, Josephine Baker and more.
“Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?”
“I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.”
“The art of Frida Kahlo is a ribbon around a bomb.” [Andre Breton about Frida Kahlo]
Her last words in her dairy were, “I hope the end is joyful; and hope never to return.”