My Love for Frida

I do not consider myself a person with an obsessive personality.  However, when it comes to Frida Kahlo, I would only use one term to describe my feelings for her, obsessed.  I don’t know when the obsession started, I cannot pinpoint one day or event, but somehow I have accumulated books, artwork and small images of her around my room.  Where I go Frida seems to follow.

I read the book Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo, by Hayden Herrera a few years back.  From this biography I learned about Frida’s relationship with Diego Rivera, how he would often have numerous lovers while with Frida and how they loved each other, yet hurt each other so often at the same time.  I also read that one of Diego’s lovers was no other than Frida’s sister!  What betrayal.

Frida never fit in growing up.  She was the black sheep and the odd ball out, so to say.  An accident when she was a teenager only worsened this label.  She was in a streetcar accident where one of the railings from the streetcar entered her body through her back.  After this incident, she never fully recovered, and complications due to this event were eventually what killed her.  She had numerous surgeries on her back and leg that left her bed ridden and this is where she painted a lot of her self-portraits.  She walked with a noticeable limp and finally had to get her leg amputated.  I have had back problems of my own, not nearly as bad as hers, but still like to equate my pain with hers.  I look to her paintings as a place to examine her suffering.  Her honesty through her self-portraits is comforting for me and I think this is why I love her so much.

She is my inspiration.  Even though she lived a hard life, she lived it well, creating masterpieces that created not only an outlet of her own, but also an example for others to follow and resonate with.  She was beautiful, truthful and inspiring as both a female and an artist.