Frida Kahlo, a study in Badassery
Albert sits under his canopy overlooking the Royal Albert Hall
I have the good fortune to be in London, with free time on my hands and a reluctant willingness to brave the uncharacteristic, suffocating heat. With nothing on my agenda, I put on my most comfy shoes (a pair of broken-in Tom’s) and I headed across Hyde Park to The Victoria & Albert Museum.
Described as ‘the world’s leading museum of art and design’ the V & A not only celebrates all that is refined and lovely, but who could deny the love Victoria felt for Albert and her profound sense of loss when standing in the shadow of Albert Memorial? Indeed the approach through the park, through Albertopolis, the surrounding neighborhood dedicated to Albert and art and education, only serves to whet the appetite for the treasures that lie within the V & A. Ah and what treasures there were...
Though it was sold out, a quick stop at the Membership desk secured me a ticket to the stunning, profound and highly personal Frida Kahlo exhibit. I love Frida Kahlo more than I love her art, does that make sense? Her artwork is a testament to her will and a life force which could not be denied. A self-taught, self-assured genius she was, a beacon of strength and femininity. Of course my introduction to Frida came from (surprise, surprise) a film. Before Frida (Taymor 2002), my knowledge of her life and work could best be described as ‘passing’. Selma Hayek’s unflinching portrayal of Frida added depth and meaning to the familiar self portraits, with all their complications and contradictions.
In 2004, after 50 years, a veritable trove of Frida’s personal items were uncovered in her home, the Casa Azul. These ordinary objects provide an intimate glimpse into the life of the woman more than the artist (though who could deny that they are inextricably bound) and reveal her indefatigable spirit. Here are a few of my favorites:
At a time when white-washing her ethnic identity would have ensured more exposure and commercial success, Frida embraced her Mexican roots with traditional clothing, conveniently hiding her prosthetic leg. Covered in paint and cigarette burns, these richly textured, multi-cultural textiles reveal how incredibly hard she worked.
No aspect of her life, no matter how practical or utilitarian, was left un-embellished.
One of many plaster casts, everything within arm’s length was a canvas waiting to be beautified.
Frida dealt with chronic pain in myriad ways, from Demerol to Milk of Magnesia.
Of course she wore Chanel No. 5 and Shalimar, of course she did.
