This past weekend
was Mother’s Day, or as it is known in our house, the one day of the year my
family has to accompany me to an art
museum. I chose to go to the Museum of Fine Art (MFA) in Boston, which is
showing an exhibit through June 16th entitled “Frida Kahlo and Arte Popular” (the ‘Arte Popular’ refers to
traditional Mexican folk art, which Kahlo collected and surrounded herself
with.) The exhibit combines Kahlo’s own
art with the arte popular that she loved, and asks viewers to consider how
these objects impacted her art and aesthetic.
Frida Kahlo is
one of the most celebrated artists of the 20th century. She has joined the ranks of Van Gogh and
Picasso among others, who are so ubiquitous you don’t even have to know much
about art to know who they are. Her work
is on a $10 poster in some kid’s dorm room, as well as t-shirts, handbags,
toys, and even lipstick. She is no longer just a famous artist - she is pop
culture.
Because of this
popularity, it can be tempting to dismiss Frida. To say she had a major impact on me seems
almost embarrassing - I might as well say “I like art.” Everyone likes Frida,
and I tend to be pretty uncomfortable liking something that is extremely
popular. If it is everywhere, it becomes less interesting. But of course, this is completely ridiculous
- Frida Kahlo is beloved for a reason. Her art is extremely personal. It can be brutal and violent, showcasing her
distress for all to see. She is beautiful
and powerful; she is pain and beauty.
Almost every female artist admires her.
One of the
interesting things about Frida is that we don’t just love her art, we love
her. We know who she is and what she
looks like just as much as we know her painting “The Two Fridas.” This was
intentional and by her design. Her husband, Diego Rivera, was already a famous
Mexican painter when her art was recognized and began showing, and she knew
what journalists and collectors thought of an artist could be as influential as
their work itself (if not more.) So she
constructed Frida “the artist” - the face she wanted the world to see.
As a child, her
family changed her birth year from 1907 to 1910 to hide the fact that she was
developmentally behind when she was entering school due to illness. As an adult, she kept the 1910 birth year not
because she wanted to be seen as younger, but because that was the year of the
Mexican Revolution. As a young woman,
Frida defied convention and dressed as a man in tailored suits and with short
hair. But later, she would commission
seamstresses to create elaborate copies of traditional folk dresses that she
was sure to be photographed in. She
wanted to be seen as a symbol of Mexico, a woman of the people. She would be the embodiment of the strong
Mexican Revolutionary.
When Frida Kahlo
is talked about, the conversation usually centers around both how personal her
art is and how tragic her life was. She
poured all of her hopes and sorrows into her art, and pushed the boundaries on
how brutal and honest she could be. We
look at her work and feel like we know her because she is seemingly showing us
pieces of her very soul.
But the MFA show
is a little different, a little left of center.
We know Frida, but we also know what Frida wanted us to see. She constructed the image of herself with
careful thought and planning. Some may
see that as a lie, a mask, and feel like we have somehow been cheated out of
knowing who she really is.
I like to think a
little more hopefully about it. Frida
could not help illness and accidents, betrayals and loss. But she surrounded herself with the things
she admired and loved. She was a strong,
intelligent woman who made herself into the symbol she wanted to show the
world. Frida’s work continues to show us
that we cannot avoid pain, but we can mold it into something beautiful.
Reading List:
“Frida Kahlo: An
Illustrated Life” by Maria Hesse
“Frida: A
Biography of Frida Kahlo” by Hayden Herrera
“The Diary of
Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Portrait”
“Frida Kahlo: The
Paintings” by Hayden Herrera
“Frida Kahlo at
Home” by Suzanne Barbezat
