I met Frida Kahlo one cold afternoon in March in Brussels, Belgium many moons ago. I walked inside the Bozar Museum, toward a dimly lit room packed with hundreds of fans to see her work. She must have been proud as people lined up to see her paintings.
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It is said that on the day of her death on July 13, 1954, mourners gathered to witness her cremation and that blast of heat burned in a seemingly endless fury. But on that day in 2010, as I saw her masterpieces, I know that Frida’s creativity lives forever and will not for a second die in the hearts of her admirers.
According to her official website, today, more than half a century after her death, her paintings fetch more money than any other female artist.
According to her official website, today, more than half a century after her death, her paintings fetch more money than any other female artist.
I remember her now as I remembered her words then: “They are so damn 'intellectual' and rotten that I can't stand them anymore....I [would] rather sit on the floor in the market of Toluca and sell tortillas, than have anything to do with those 'artistic' bitches of Paris.”
Photos of me by Avie Olarte; of Frida from Wikipedia
