By Laura Stokes
Casa Azul, the home where Frida Kahlo was born, lived, and died; July 2007, photo © 2007 by Laura Stokes, all rights reserved.
Acting on dream and impulse, we found ourselves in Mexico City last weekend at the Frida Kahlo Centennial Celebration at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City. I had read about the exhibit but never thought we would go until I told a friend whose passion for Frida is even larger than mine, and somehow momentum took over. So we booked a flight and arrived late on a Friday evening, very hungry after passing on an option to buy “dinner” of potato chips and Mars bars, the current American Airlines cuisine.
The town was quiet and all the restaurants in the area were closed by 10:30. Our hotel dated from the 17th century when it served as a monastery — old, quaint and spare, as opposed to the luxurious Sheraton across the street where most Americans must have been staying, as we saw only Mexican families in The Cortez. This suited us perfectly and was consistent with our wish to melt into the life of the city. We were pleasantly surprised to see few tourists in the Zocalo, the restaurants, and the museums — selfish of us, I suppose, because I am sure the Mexican economy could use the tourist trade.
I had expected to be touched and inspired by Frida’s actual work, but so much more came to the surface as I stood in the long queues of Mexicans waiting for this unique opportunity to pay homage to one of their most beloved cultural heroes and icons. The works were chosen to exhibit Frida’s life-long dedication to and use of indigenous Mexican folk traditions and popular arts in her work and lifestyle. And by the snail’s pace of the crowd of visitors as they crept along the walls devouring each word of the descriptions and studiously examining the detail and imagery of her paintings, it was obvious that Frida must have been successful in honestly evoking a genuine connection with her audience. Frida’s reverence for the indigenous people and culture permeated her work and was transmitted to those who could most recognize and appreciate it.
Again, at Casa Azul, where Frida was born, lived and died, I continued to notice the reverence of the Mexican people for her work The same long lines of Mexicans were there as were at the museum and the same thoughtful and thorough scrutiny of the works and the memorabilia. I was struck with envy and resentment, as I have often been before, at the lack of heritage and story in my own white Anglo-Saxon protestant background, the poverty of tradition and influence and cherishing of what has passed.
I ponder the social consequences of such a lack of understanding of the significance of belonging to a culture rooted in centuries of custom and tradition and language and how that ignorance and insensitivity is manifested in my own country.
Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City, July 2007, all photos © 2007 by Laura Stokes, all rights reserved.
About Laura: Laura Stokes lives in the Rio Grande valley, outside Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she works with great passion on matters of peace and social justice. She is also active in her community and with her daughters and granddaughter, who she happens to presently be keeping up with in Ghost Ranch.
What a gift to be able to see this exhibit in person! I’ve read a lot about it, about the strength of Kahlo’s work over time, etc., but it was refreshing to read what the exhibit brought home for you personally, Laura.
I know you’re in Ghost Ranch and probably not able to comment, but just want to let you know that I also thought it courageous of you to write this line:
I was struck with envy and resentment, as I have often been before, at the lack of heritage and story in my own white Anglo-Saxon protestant background, the poverty of tradition and influence and cherishing of what has passed.
Thanks for joining us on red Ravine.
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Laura, what gorgeous colors in these photos — and no wonder strong feelings arise. History, culture, tradition — all part of the blood and bone of all of us. I have often struggled with my own half “white” background — seems like what we mean when we say white is that we’ve lost an essential connection with the traditions of our past and that has left us colorless — not white, really, but transparent. Invisible. I really like Annie Proulx’s book “Accordion Crimes”, that describes the travels of a single accordian through time, moving from one cultural tradition to another, each one unique, each one a slightly different color, connected only by the common language of music.
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Thank you, Mom, for bringing the appreciation of art, culture, and the art of culture of others, into my life. I wish I could have been there with you.
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Teresa, glad to know about the book.
Laura’s piece and the comments make me think how important it is to nurture in ourselves and our children an appreciation for culture. My daughters are “coyote,” which in NM means half-Latina-half-white. And what’s fascinating to see is that in Em’s second-grade exercise on What is Your Culture?, she decided to examine Jim’s Swedish roots. His grandmother immigrated from Sweden to the Midwest when she was in her 20s or 30s.
Connection to one’s roots and heritage, and especially if those roots are intertwined with many others, is so important. Better to be proud of all of them, to explore them all, and to not let the mixtures over time dilute one’s natural desire to understand where you come from.
Kahlo celebrated a race and culture that she couldn’t claim by blood yet could by nationality and, most importantly, in her soul. It’s a powerful message.
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I took all the way thru School and in high school we had to pick an artist to do a project on. So I picked Frida Kahlo because she is from mexico , My family heritage is mexican to but anyways after choosing to do a study on Frida I didn’t know what I was in for…
It scares me to admitt it but I found my self to be very connected with her ranging from her childhood, to marriage, and the struggel with childbirth. For me it’s frightening because My art teacher and I were very close and actually she was the one who told me to do my project on Frida so I well shortly after to add the finishing touches to our project we had to draw a pictuer relating to one artist drawing I had never saw any of her drawing yet so I just whiped somthing up about the death of my father he just passed away three day befor that so I did ti in memory of him and presented it the next day. when it my turn to show my picture the teacher stop me and said “Serena may I talk to you alone for a seconed “? so I said sure My teacher said as frighting as it sounds there is a similar picture done by Frida Kahlo and your is a frighting example of it! all I could say was wow? so she had a book on Frida and showed me the picture I was shocked I didn’t know what to say. Than my teacher turned and looked at me and said frighting huh? than she turned and said Great minds think a like….
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shortly after that I have been hooked on Frida It’s amazing what a women can go thru and endur the pain untill the end.
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It is amazing. And to become the inspiration she is for so many people who can relate to her because of her pain.
Thanks for sharing the story about your own project and how it reflected in some ways Frida and her art. It would be fun to see. Hope you’re still doing your art.
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Serena, that’s amazing that you had never seen her work, yet produced a drawing so close to the work of Frida Kahlo. It was like the pain of the death of your father was coming out in a drawing practice. And it reflected the pain in Kahlo’s work. It reminds me of the Akashic Records or Jung’s archetypes, symbols that we share across humanity. Thank you for sharing the story.
yb, I read Teresa’s comment on Annie Proulx’s book — “Accordion Crimes”, that describes the travels of a single accordion through time, moving from one cultural tradition to another, each one unique, each one a slightly different color, connected only by the common language of music — and it made me want to read it.
Laura, I’ve always loved this post and the bright photographs. It is a cultural and artistic pilgrimage. I think I might have been out of town when it was posted. Or had recently returned. It’s good to read it again.
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I saw Frida’s work for the first time yesterday, at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. The show is here for another month, then off to two other major cities. I was near a curator who was explaining how they acquired work for the show–most of the pieces are privately owned, some had never been on public display. I felt deeply privileged, to say the least.
The paintings, of course, are beyond description in their color and depth. But what I took away from the show most was her willingness to expose her emotional life through her work. I walked through her life through the paintings–her life with Diego, the miscarriages, the infidelities, the back pain, how her culture influenced her entirety.
It made her work alive. Thank-you, Frida.
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Oh, Teri, what a great opportunity! Lucky, lucky.
Thank you for sharing this insight: But what I took away from the show most was her willingness to expose her emotional life through her work. It resonates with everything I know about her life and work. To have lived with the pain of her physical and emotional suffering, and then the love and infidelities of her marriage — she must have been so strong in so many ways to then translate all of that into her art.
I would love to see her work in person.
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Teri, thanks for coming to this post to share your insights on the Frida show at the Walker. It’s already on our calendar as well to take the show in over the Holidays. I’m looking so forward to it. And after reading your comment, even more so.
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Frida was prolific. I understood this on some level before I went to the Walker, yet seeing the paintings…well….I have an entirely different perspective.
Each one is a masterpiece: so exceptionally layered, detailed, moving. One of them would be/could be considered someone’s life’s work. A job well done. And then, you look around the gallery and they cover every wall. All accomplished in her brief 47 years. All accomplished amid severe physical pain.
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[…] standing a nose width from her paintings. And viewing the 80 or 90 vintage family photographs of Frida and Diego Rivera. More to come on Frida. We’re thinking of going back Monday night during […]
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[…] Dreaming Of Frida Kahlo by Laura Stokes […]
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[…] the National Preparatory School in Mexico City, with a goal of studying medicine at university. She admired Diego Rivera as he worked on a mural at the prep school. In 1925, Zora Neale Hurston became Barnard’s first black student, studied […]
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[…] a piece, and two great literature books for 50 cents each. One of them was Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo by Hayden Herrera. It is full of her […]
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[…] Maybe for you, it’s visiting the home architect Frank Lloyd Wright built, Fallingwater near Mill Run, Pennsylvania, or a few nights in the Willa Cather room at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House (did you know ybonesy’s dad worked there one summer as a teenager?) in Taos, New Mexico. We had one red Ravine Guest who dreamed about the home of Frida Kahlo. It was such a powerful experience, she felt compelled to travel to Mexico and see it for herself. […]
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It’s Frida Kahlo’s birthday: July 6, 1907 – July 13, 1954. Born Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón. Reminds me of the time Liz and I saw her retro at the Walker Art Center. Here’s a link to her bio at the official site:
Biography of Frida Kahlo (LINK)
A couple of quotes:
I paint self portraits because I am alone most of the time, because I am the person I know best. –Frida Kahlo
I would like to be able to do whatever I want to behind the curtain of “madness.” In this way: I would arrange flowers, all day, I would paint pain, love, tenderness, I would freely laugh at others, but above everything I would laugh at myself. I would build my world that would be mine and theirs as long as I live… –Frida Kahlo
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