Frida, mi querida Frida

I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. She was one of the first artists that, when I was younger, inspired me to go into the path of Art. Just in case you don’t know who she is (the other day I was wearing my T-shirt of her and a woman in the park asked me, who is she? And I look at her with my arrogant face of, HOW YOU DON’T KNOW??? Well maybe she didn’t…) Just in case you’re not sure what I’m on about, I’m talking about the Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo. She had a tragic life, that is the key of why I love her and reflect on her a lot. She was very sick when she was a child. Years later, she was involved in a train accident, and from this had a problem with her back that changed her life. She couldn’t conceive children and that, in Mexican society is not good, and even worse if your husband as well likes to fool around with other women. Her husband Diego Rivera and her had a tragic love-hate relationship. I’m sure he loved her, but he loved himself much more. You can see all the pain that she suffered reflected in her paintings. She is so honest in her art that you can see that it was her medium for catharsis, with a colourful technique of surrealism and Mexican folk through which you feel her pain, you cry her tears just by looking at her paintings. I love Frida, I wish I could hug her and tell her that everything is going to be alright, that her paintings will inspired millions of people after her death (actually, I remember the day that I had the weirdest experience of walking through Buenos Aires with Chris Martin, from Coldplay, we talked about Frida a lot. After that, the album “Viva la Vida” was released, that you may know, is the title of one of her paintings). I would like to hug you and reassure you Frida querida, that your soul is going to be always surrounded by monkeys and birds in Paradise.

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