Launching a travel newsletter in the middle of a pandemic might possibly be one of the silliest creative ventures I’ve attempted yet. Like many of you, quarantine has me asking questions of legacy, fulfillment, and spiritual prowess.
Who am I? Who do I want to be? And what am I willing to sacrifice to help build a world worthy of future generations. I desire a world filled with the vibrancy of difference, one of critical thought, growth, empathy, and passionate decadence.
And who better to take us into the new year than the spirit of Frida Kahlo. A woman whose entire career was that of resistance.
NOW in SF at the De Young Museum- Frida Kahlo: Appearances Can Be Deceivings
The exhibition is supposed to run from September 25, 2020 - February 7th, 2020. While it is ill-advised to travel and the museum is closed due to covid. I will try my best to give virtual privy to a show I dearly hope is extended beyond its February close date.
Before we begin, can you believe that image above is an actual color photo?! Secondly, Nickolas Muray was one of Frida’s longtime lovers and photographed her often. Has anyone else dreamt of being someone’s muse? I can’t be alone in this.
This exhibition highlights Frida’s struggles of navigating a world of ablism while uniquely celebrating her resistance to traditional, monolithic, historical narratives of consumerism and womanhood. As an indigenous woman and with deep intersectional oppressions she iconically and elegantly pursued her art in the ironic juxtaposition of her inevitable fame.
(***and yes, I too hate the word, juxtaposition it is overused and arrogant but I have yet to find a suitable alternative…taking submissions in the comments)
Did you know I take burlesque classes? My exploration of burlesque taught me the pursuit of beauty and sexuality for oneself; as a woman, is in-and-of-itself, an act of resistance. And if I have learned anything in 2020, it is to give reverence to women of color, and the power they hold in finding their own beauty despite the broad strokes of popular culture’s “white lens”.
As I researched this show, I learned that Frida’s traditional Tehauana dress was inspired by the women of Mexico’s Isthmus of Tehuantepec markets; an economic matriarchial epicenter in the Oaxacan region. To wear Tehauana dress, at a time when it wasn’t in ‘vogue’ if you will, would have popularized the notion of female economic independence.
I have to say, I was almost offended as scoured through the online reviews posted by DeYoung’s website. When I read lackluster statements like “Frida, was inspired by this dress,” the compilation of those words decry the obvious autonomy and intention behind her physical statements of feminity. She was not only inspired but as with everything she did; she was intentional.
I will give these writers a break as their reviews were written in 2019 when the show originally debuted in Brooklyn New York. I would hope that the social justice movements and awareness of 2020 cause culture writers to assess their use of language and weed out implicit bias within their pieces.
But take for example this piece in the Times. It’s well researched, and I liked that it takes pieces from the show outside of the promotional material of the exhibition. However, I struggled with this part:
In 1925, an 18-year-old Kahlo was riding a wooden bus when it collided with a streetcar, killing several passengers and fracturing Kahlo’s ribs, both her legs and her spine. Kahlo would spend the rest of her life battling various health crises that mostly stemmed from this accident.
Her injuries forced Kahlo into tight corsets that straightened her spine. In order to conceal them, Kahlo would often wear huipils—tunics that allowed ample room to breathe. They enabled her to disguise a debilitating disability with joyful colors and materials.
But huipils were not just functional—they were also a cultural and political statement. Kahlo was a champion of Mexicanidad, the embrace of indigenous Mexican culture (that her mother’s family was a part of) above bourgeois European aesthetics and ideals. “She came to see her sartorial choices as intentionally political,” Morris said. Kahlo was especially inspired by the culture of Tehuantepec, a matriarchal city in Oaxaca where the women designed and wore huipils, ran the markets and served as breadwinners.
To begin with, there needs to be a conversation about ableism. . Most “disabilities” are social constructs. They exist because our systems of governance and education fail to be agile and empathetic to those of difference.
They enabled her to disguise a debilitating disability with joyful colors and materials.
She lived in acute pain her entire life and the language used in this hierarchal way implies shame around her casts and orthotics. While giving credence to her ‘intention’ it comes after the weird shaming, ableist language.
Trust me, people with differences are very aware of when everyone in the room is looking at their “disability” and not them. On the other hand, shame is a common human experience; not necessarily a personality trait. To assume she was hiding away under her clothing completely undermines Frida’s entire body of work which includes the adornment of those casts and the photos of her in them.
It is clear to me, she knew how she was being perceived and she intentionally mitigated and managed the perceptions of others. Some scholars might call this intersectionality or code-switching.
Having a Deaf brother, I watch this happen all the time where hearing people make assumptions based on their own perceptions of his behavior. They create narratives about him (because they can’t communicate with him) that simply aren’t true instead of meeting him where he is at and asking him his opinion on a matter.
As humans, we do this in our relationships all the time. We assume narratives about our partners, friends, or family instead of just asking a question about how they really feel.
This show is a visceral exploration of Frida’s most intimate belongings. Like a stiff drink, I want the art I view to be experiential, riveting, and contemplative. I want to feel the presence of the work deep in my soul when I walk into the exhibition. My gut is telling me this show has this effect.
This exhibition not only celebrates what Frida showed to the world but the pain that existed beneath hooped skirts. From the castes, she wore to the insides of her uterus Frida led with stark visual vulnerability.
I wasn’t getting what I wanted from these culture writers. I’m unsure if it’s because they were men or the journalism itself didn’t resonate.
This corset, which is itself on display at the museum, depicts two themes that dominated her thoughts: family and politics. Kahlo had several miscarriages and abortions; her frail body prevented her from giving birth. Her preoccupation and sorrow over this loss led her to depict wombs, fetuses and children in many works, including “Sun and Life” and “Girl with Death Mask.”
But the exhibit’s curators hope to challenge the pervasive trope of Kahlo as a tragic figure beset by childlessness. “She grew up in an age where she was expected to have children,” Morris said. “I think she wanted to and didn’t want to: She knew her husband had left the previous two women he was with as soon as they had children. And she was committed to her art and understood the implications it would have.”
There are no words to describe the physicality of an abortion or a miscarriage. It’s like when you try to take a photo of a majestic sunset, the photo will never do the moment justice. And maybe that’s why these writings missed the mark for me.
The show is clearly about the intimate belongings, ideas, and revolutionary disposition of a woman; of a woman of color, of a time where women had even fewer rights. I’m not looking for a clinical description of the exhibition, I want the meat that made Frida an icon.
I did an IG LIVE with a Sacramento artist, Aida Lizalde, who recently did a residency in Mexico. She grew up undocumented and the one thing that rings through from that amazing talk was when she said, “ Spending time in Mexico reminds me I’m not defined by America’s identity politics.”
If you are an inspiring artist Aida is a phenomenal resource, she’s working her way to grad school, and offered many useful tips in that talk.
Identity politics are at the forefront of many conversations these days. We can’t ask Frida what her intentions or experiences were. Wouldn’t that be an amazing podcast? However, we can analyze our perspectives, our lens’ of bias and humbly hold ourselves accountable.
Thank you so much for reading to this point in the piece. Please comment below, share, and ask questions. This is a space for discourse. However, I expect people to behave respectfully. I will not tolerate, name-calling, shaming language or any of the -isms in this community.
xx
Lu