It surprises me that Frida has garnered such international fame as of late. There are calendars, fabric, cards, dozens of books. She would have been so controversial today. I have written about her for a while and it is confounding that people love her who would be anti-gay, anti-woman, anti-communist. Honestly it makes me feel possessive as if to say, NO! I love all of her.
Her painting is not classically beautiful but since it is clearly a reflection of her mind and heart, projected on a canvas with such refined finesse, it shows the beauty of who she was. It is double astounding as it is her talent and her ruthless self-discovery hung on a wall for all to see, to criticize, to dismiss or, even, worship. Finally after years of looking at her work, mostly in books, we are going to stand in the flooded pool of her. Promising not to faint or shriek but no promise of not weeping, we are on the way.
The picture on the right is exactly how I expect to find her. Hand-rolled cigarette in hand. Plain clothes, braided hair, crafted necklace and an open face welcoming intelligent conversation. My heart races to think that Melissa and I will pull up a chair and chat with Frida. I am certain she would like us, offer a shot of tequila and dance.
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