At first glance, these two paintings by Frida Kahlo don't seem to have anything in common. Upon closer examination, however, they do share some similarities.
My Birth, 1932, (oil on copper, 12 x 14", Collection of Madonna) seen on the left, was created while Frida was living in Detroit. As previously mentioned in my last post, it's a shocking image of birth/death that Frida painted in a particularly painful period of her life. Yet, it is not just an outpouring of pain. Instead, Frida always infused her paintings with symbolic elements, ultimately creating layered images that are complex. In My Birth, we see an ominous image of a dead woman giving birth in a bedroom, but it's a room filled with two significant Catholic images: the Virgin of Sorrows painting hanging above the bed and the empty scroll in the foreground at the foot of the bed. The Virgin of Sorrows weeps for the loss of her son and by extension the woman on the bed and her child. The scroll in the foreground refers to retablos, small paintings made on metal that depict a scene showing someone who survived an accident or illness due to the divine intervention of Christ or Mary. A family member would request a local artisan to make a retablo. In the scroll, the artist would write out a "thank you" note to Christ or Mary for saving the family's loved one. In Frida's painting, the scroll is blank. Perhaps this indicates that there is nothing to be thankful for. It's not clear in My Birth if the child is dead or alive, but the empty scroll indicates that she's dead. The Two Fridas, 1939, (oil on canvas, 67 11/16 x 16 11/16", Collection Museo de Arte Moderno, Mexico City) was created seven years after My Birth. It was painted in Mexico shortly after Frida returned from Paris where her paintings were included in an exhibition of Mexican art curated by Andre Breton, the leader of Surrealism. Breton thought Frida's paintings were surrealist by nature. He loved them precisely because they captured surreality without attempting to do so. Frida never called herself a Surrealist. By 1939, she was familiar with this movement, but she didn't attempt to create works of art based upon Sigmund Freud's theories of the unconscious. Instead, she looked within and to her own culture for inspiration. It's easy to understand why Breton loved Frida's paintings. Not only do they have a surreal look, but a psychological depth. In The Two Fridas, we see a double self-portrait; both figures sit on a bench holding hands with a cloud-filled sky behind them. They look directly out at us with an unwavering stare that we can't turn away from. The Frida on the right wears a style of dress that the women from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec made famous in Mexico after the revolution (1910-20). Such indigenous clothing symbolized a new pride in Mexico's pre-Columbian roots. The Frida on the left wears a Victorian style wedding dress, one that was popular in Mexico during colonial rule. While this Frida holds onto clamps to try and stop the flow of blood, the other Frida holds a picture of her husband, Diego Rivera. What do you think Frida is conveying about her dual nature? And, can you see any similar themes or ideas in both My Birth and The Two Fridas? © Celia S. Stahr 2015
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Frida Kahlo's My Birth, 1932, 12 x 14," oil on copper, collection of Madonna. If Henry Ford Hospital is a powerful painting, then My Birth is shocking! Can you think of another image of a woman giving birth in the history of Western art? Of course, Frida's painting depicts more than a birth scene. It's a complicated image that, like Henry Ford Hospital, intertwines life and death. In this stark bedroom, the Virgin of Sorrows--Mater Dolorosa--presides over the birth/death.
After Frida suffered a miscarriage in July, she received a telegram from home stating that her mother was very ill. In early September, Frida boarded a Detroit train and headed toward Mexico City. She got there just before her mother died of breast cancer. It must have been devastating. After staying in Mexico for about a month, Frida returned to Diego in Detroit and it's at this time that she created My Birth. Once we grasp the full force of Frida's emotional turmoil, we begin to understand that this painting was not created to shock people; rather it was made to visually communicate all the levels of heartbreak surrounding the death of loved ones. As I grapple with my own complex emotions of grief after my father's death, I'm very aware of how challenging it is to find the right words or images to convey what I'm feeling. Frida did it. She found the perfect multileveled image to transmit the convoluted and unbearable feelings of grief. Most people don't want to talk about the intensity of the grieving process. This is why I was especially moved and impressed by Joseph Biden's honest discussion of his grief on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert. While some people may have felt uncomfortable listening to the vice president break down while baring his soul, we live in a time when the "tell-all" memoir and "reality tv" are the norm. However, Frida did not. This helps explain why her painting is still considered shocking. The shock value appealed to Madonna who purchased it in the 1990s. As the owner of My Birth, Madonna has only loaned her prized possession to one museum exhibition (as far as I know). Mark Rosenthal, the adjunct curator at the Detroit Institute of Arts, tried to persuade her to loan it for the recent Diego and Frida in Detroit exhibition, but Madonna said: "No." Rosenthal commented in a newspaper article: "You have no idea what we went through. But I can't describe all that." It's easy to vilify Madonna. After all, it would be wonderful if more people could see this iconic painting. However, I can't blame the pop star for wanting to protect her jewel. If it was damaged in any way, it would be a great loss for her and the world. © Celia S. Stahr 2015 |
Celia Stahr teaches art history at the University of San Francisco. She’s interested in women artists and artists who cross cultural boundaries. She fell in love with the power of Frida Kahlo's art in the 1980s, a feeling that has intensified over the years. Frida in America took 10 years to research and write, but Stahr never lost interest in this fascinating woman and artist.
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