The Frida Kahlo show at the Tate is huge; both in size and in scope. It, as it is eager to point out, concentrates on the painting, not on the celebrity-love bestowed, not on the character in a film, not even on the monobrow.

The rooms divide her life into sensible, separate areas; still-life, self-portrait, benefactors etc.
Her story is easily understood - a hard upbringing cursed by disease and life-threatening, life-altering traffic accident makes her whom she became, it coloured the way she lived and the way she died. This is probably why so many people like Frida's work - it is instantly understandable, instantly gripping, we can all imagine the gruelling pain which makes the beauty of paintings even more impressive and the horror of the painting even more heart-wrenching.

Interesting, though, is Germaine Greer's comment in Tate Etc. that Kahlo was 'the first ever true performance artist', and that 'the performance lasted all her life long'.
Greer claims that everything the spectator, the public gets to see is carefully decided by Kahlo, a phenomenon the norm these days. Frida wears Mexican folk costumes. Frida braids her hair or lets it hang loose according to mood. Frida creates the myth of Frida without revealing anything of what really goes on behind the facade.

And why shouldn't she? It still does not change the fact that her paintings are beautiful, harrowing pictures of womanhood or rather fridahood that stays with you for a long time after leaving the gallery.

(And then I went to Borough Market which is the coolest kick-ass market around. And then I went home and made teas and watched the three and something hours of A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies. And then I was almost happy.)

In other news:
Walter Salles does Jackie K. Yes. I guess that would be an obvious choice. Exciting.


Finally: I'll be moving to another site shortly. The days of the sheep are numbered. I'll keep you posted. Baah.
posted by charlotte at 19:32 - comment