Frida Kahlo‘s voiceover from the exhibition
The voice of Frida Kahlo : Anikó Donáth
Exhibition
Frida
I want to tell you that I’ve behaved well. That I haven’t had any affairs or amusements or lovers or anything like that. That I love Mexico as never before. That I adore Diego, more than my own life and that I’m becoming a serious person. Frida Kahlo.
Childhood 1907-1925
Frida
I was born in Coyoacan, outside Mexico City in a blue house. I was the third of four sisters. Christina, Cristi , the ‘chubby one’ was the youngest, and my best friend.
Mi mama, Matilda Calderon was a beautiful bell from Oaxaca with enormous dark eyes and full lips. She did not know how to read or write. And she was not in love with my father. She was hysterical with dissatisfaction and expressed it through religion. She made us go to church every day and pray before every meal.
Mi Papa ‘Mr. Kahlo’ was a photographer and very interesting. Many evenings he would arrive home from Mexico City and play Strauss on his piano. He would read Goethe or Schiller and whisper to me, ‘Frieda, Dear Frieda – you are the most intelligent of my daughters – and so…most like me’. I am in agreement with everything my father taught me and nothing my mother taught me.
For ten long years, the Mexican revolution raged against centuries of oppression. Wounded and hungry fighters jumped through the windows into our living room. The bullets screeched past. I can still hear their extraordinary sound.
Bus Ride 1925
Frida
It was a strange collision. It was not violent but rather silent, slow and it harmed everybody. But me most of all.
Birth of an Artist 1926
Frida
Now I live on a planet of pain, transparent as ice. I became old in an instant and everything today is bland and lucid. I know that nothing lies behind. If there was something I would see it.
My father had a box of oil colours and some paint brushes. My mother asked a Carpenter to make a special easel, because I couldn’t sit up. Without paying much attention, I began to paint.
Self-Portrait in a Velvet Dress 1929
This is my first self-portrait and I painted myself with a very marked unibrow. In reality I didn’t have such a strong feature, but I wanted to add a detail which would make me stand out from any other girls Alejandro would meet. I was 19 and alone most of the time. I wanted to impress and seduce Alejandro. On the back I wrote in German ‹Heute ist immer noch›.
Frida
I think I am getting better. I want to believe it. After two years on this painful planet, I begin to walk again! I tease and laugh at death he will never get the better of me.
Palacio Nacional
Frida
I was going to be free! – And so was my country! Mexico had emerged from the revolution and was the centre of MODERNITY. At the heart of the movement was the World-famous painter, Diego Rivera. A great libertarian. A great communist. A great man. I marched in protest demonstrations and joined the communist party.
There was a great outburst of creativity in painting, in films, in literature, in thought philosophy. In every single aspect of life. And I was dancing in the centre of this vortex. We were going to express ourselves freely. We’re going to speak freely. We’re going to love freely.
Diego
Frida
I met Diego in a time when people carried pistols and went around shooting the street lamps. During the night, they broke them all and went about spraying bullets, just for fun. Diego shot a gramophone. And in spite of my fear I became very interested in him.
I arranged everything in the court of Coyoacan. I asked the maid for skirts, a blouse and a rebozo so I could be married in a traditional Mexican dress. Which Diego loved.
My mother did NOT like the marriage, because Diego was a communist and because she said he was like a fat, fat pig. Mama said: it is the marriage between an elephant and a dove.
His enormous belly, drawn tight and smooth as a sphere, rest upon his strong legs, beautiful columns, that end in large feet, pointing outward, as if to embrace all the world and to support himself invincibly on the earth. I believe he is an example of future humanity, distant from us by two or three thousand years.
We had been married less than a year when he had his first affair. Fidelity was out of the question for him.
I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving. And loving. And never leaving.
Life 1930-1939
Frida
‘Gringolandia’. We were on our way to San Francisco, the ‘City of the World’. A union of Lions. The City and Bay are wonderful. I don’t like the gringos at all. They’re very boring and they have faces like unbaked bread.
I spent most of my time making portraits of friends but I have only managed to sell a few of my paintings.
Leo my Doctorcito, here in Detroit I do not eat at all. Well, I no longer have any appetite with this troublesome pregnancy.
On a hot July night I had my second miscarriage. I stayed for almost two devastating weeks in that Hospital. Then I started to sketch my ideas for this painting. I am naked crying in a pool of blood. Painting has now become my therapy, my way to hide and show my secrets at the same time.
This picture is called: my birth. The mother’s head is covered with the white veil because, coincidentally, with the painting of the picture my mother died in Mexico.
I am dreaming about my return to Mexico. We had been in America for three years, but my heart was always in Mexico.
We both had many affairs, even shared our lovers. But this time Diego murdered my life. He had an affair with my sister, Cristi. She is the sister I love the most. You can’t imagine how much I hate and I disgust myself. I have wasted my best years dedicated to doing only what would benefit Diego. I have never done anything for myself!
I have left the house in San Angel. And for the first time I am living alone. In my own apartment. I drink a lot. I try to drown my sorrows. My current view of life? Make love, take a bath and make love again!
They thought I was a surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never painted dreams. I paint my own reality.
The two Fridas 1939
Diego filed for divorce. I could only paint to express my pain. When the divorce papers arrived to be signed, I finished “The Two Fridas”. On the right, the Frida loved by Diego, this is me, the Mexican Frida in a Tehuana dress. In my hand I hold a miniature of Diego at four years of age. On the left, it is me again, the European Frida in a lacy white wedding dress. The European Frida’s heart is broken while the Mexican Frida’s heart is whole. She is bleeding, I try to stop the flow of blood, but it keeps dripping. At the end, the blood drops turn into red flowers on my skirt. This is also the way I lived my life; I turned pain into beauty, and by doing so, I gave meaning to my pain.
Life 1940-1952
Frida
In Mexico we say it is a blessing to be born and die in the same home. I married Diego a second time. And we lived again in Casa Azul.
The remarriage functions well. But I do not say Diego is my husband because it would be ridiculous. Diego has never been. And never will be anyone’s husband.
If I were better health wise, one could say that I am happy. But this thing of feeling such a wreck from head to toe sometimes upsets my brain and makes me have bitter moments.
All the doctors in Mexico thought I had to have an operation on my spine.
Three months I was lying in bed with a plaster corset and an awful apparatus on my chin, which made me suffer like hell. I was sure I was going to die.
They amputated my leg 6 months ago It seemed to me like centuries of torture and at times I nearly went crazy. I still feel like committing suicide. Diego prevents me from doing it in the vain belief that maybe he will need me. I’ll wait a while.
Everything is all and one. And everything exists and moves under only one law: Life.
The Wounded Deer 1946
Frida
The hope to recover has faded away, and I painted myself as a young deer wounded by arrows. Pierced by arrows and bleeding, I – the deer – stare at you in the middle of a dead forest. I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I will not recover. That this is my destiny.
Exhibition 1953 & Death
Frida
With friendship and love
Born from my heart
I have the pleasure of inviting you
to my humble exhibition.
All I want is for you to tell me
your good and sincere opinion.
You are a learned person.
Your knowledge is first class.
These paintings
I painted with my own hands
and they wait on the walls
to give pleasure to my brothers.
With true friendship.
I thank you for this with all my heart.
Frida Kahlo de Rivera.
Icon
Frida
I used to think I was the strangest person in the World but then, there are so many people in the World there must be someone just like me, who feels so bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her and imagine she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and hear this, know that it is true. I am here, and I’m just as strange as you.
Infinity Room
Verde – Good – Warm – Light.
Purpura – Aztec – Blood of prickly pear – The brightest and oldest.
Marrón – Colour of mole – Of leaves becoming earth.
Amarillo – Madness – Sickness – Fear – Part of the sun – And of happiness.
Azul – Electricity – And Purity – Love.
Negro – Nothing is black. Really. Nothing.
Verde Oscuro – Leaves – Sadness – Science. The whole of Germany is this colour.
Amarilla Mostaza – More Madness – And mystery – old ghosts wear clothes of this colour. Or at least their underclothes.
Azul Marino – Colour of bad advertisements – And of good business.
Cyan – Distance – Tenderness can also be this blue. Love?