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THE DIARY OF FRIDA KAHLO, AN INTIMATE SELF-PORTRAIT -- ESSAY |
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by Sarah M. Lowe
Reading through Frida Kahlo's diary is unquestionably an act of transgression, an undertaking inevitably charged with an element of voyeurism. Her journal is a deeply private expression of her feelings, and was never intended to be viewed publicly. As such, Kahlo's diary belongs to the genre of the journal intime, a private record written by a woman for herself. The impulses and purposes of a diary are perplexing and sometimes paradoxical. Is it really an autobiography or is the text transformed when it comes to light? Does it retain its integrity when read by another or published? How should a woman's private journal be read, and by extension, what can be learned about Kahlo by reading her diary? Throughout history, diarists, both men and women, have chronicled their lives framed by their times or by particular historical events. In contrast, the predominant subject of the journal intime, and Kahlo's own diary specifically, is the self. Kahlo's motivation has less to do with communication than with negotiating her relationship to her self, and thus the conundrum -- why write if no one else will see the text? -- is in part answered. If Kahlo's diary is understood as an journal intime, then the roughly fifty-five self-portraits Kahlo painted (nearly a third of her entire oeuvre), which were intended for public consumption, may be seen as constituting "autobiography." In the self-portraits painted with forethought, Kahlo carefully constructs herself in a variety of settings, creating an artistic persona with an audience in mind. The paintings are provocative and aggressively audacious both in subject matter and in intent. Before Kahlo, Western art was unused to images of birthing or miscarriage, double self-portraits with visible internal organs or cross-dressing, as subjects for "high" art. No one questions the capacity of a self-portrait by Rembrandt to convey the anguish of an aging artist facing mortality or the power of one by Van Gogh to express the torment of an isolated and misunderstood artist. Such feelings are considered applicable to all "mankind." Kahlo, too, painted her own psychic states of mind in a flamboyant and sometimes irreverent manner, but her work was deemed so excessively personal and self-referential that it was thought incapable of expressing universal emotions or the human condition. In time, her self-portraits, though they never cease to shock, have overcome some of the prejudices against women painting their own lives. [a] [a1] Yet there is an uncanny restraint evident in Kahlo's self-portraits, a false honesty, an omission in almost every one. She referred to herself as "la gran ocultadora" ("the great concealer"; plate 125), and the masklike features of her visage in many of the self-portraits are a manifestation of this very self-control. "Pure" revelation was further impeded by the fact that Kahlo was a slow painter and her canvases were mediated by time and contemplation. [b] In contrast, her journal entries -- the written passages as well as the drawings convey the immediacy of firsthand sensations transcribed and recorded, a disclosure lacking in her paintings. The fact that Kahlo included artwork in her diary makes it almost unique among journaux intimes. Yet it differs from the typical artist's sketchbook, which is usually a place for preparatory drawings or working out solutions in a small format to be applied to large works. Only once did Kahlo transform an ink drawing from the diary into a full-scale painting (plate 73). And unlike the classic intimate journalist, Kahlo is inattentive to day-to-day goings-on, and uses her journal (as did Virginia Woolf) as a repository for feelings (and images) that do not fit anywhere else. Thus, these pages must be approached with some trepidation; the portrait Kahlo paints here, with color and lines, with prose and poetry, is an image of the artist unmasked. [c] *** Kahlo began her diary in the mid 1940s, when she was thirty-six or thirty-seven. Her recent emotional life had been extraordinarily turbulent. Her father had died a few years earlier; she had been divorced from Diego Rivera in late 1939 and remarried him a year later. Kahlo had come to the unavoidable conclusion that she would never bear the child she longed to have, and was plagued by her inadequacy. She had undergone numerous medical and surgical interventions, for miscarriages and spinal problems. As she approached the age of forty, she could no longer ignore the signs that her health was deteriorating. Much of the trauma Kahlo experienced she used in the formulation of her art. By 1944, she had produced about one hundred paintings, and she had met with a number of successes in her artistic career. In the early thirties, she traveled with Rivera to the United States, where her work was first exhibited at a public institution. In 1937, four of her paintings were included in a group show in Mexico City. Kahlo's decisive shift from amateur to professional painter, however, came in 1938, when she sold her first paintings (four to film star Edward G. Robinson) and showed twenty-five works at the Julien Levy Gallery, in New York. Levy's interest in Kahlo coincided with his abiding preoccupation with Surrealism, and subsequently, she came to be seen as a Surrealist artist. This association was cemented by her association with Andre Breton, self-proclaimed "Pope of Surrealism," who came to Mexico in early 1938. He wrote an important essay on Kahlo's work for the Levy exhibition, and arranged for a show in Paris in March 1939. Breton also had a hand in the organization of the International Exhibition of Surrealism in Mexico in 1940, in which Kahlo showed her two largest canvases. The guiding principle behind the Surrealist impulse that emerged in France in 1924 was rebellion, a revolt against all conventions, and in their place, the privileging of the supernatural, the antisocial, the international, and most important, the irrational. Kahlo's association with Surrealism as a movement, and with Breton as her supporter, is ambiguous, in large measure because of Breton's compulsive need to arbitrate what exactly might be considered Surrealism -- ironic in light of his movement's anarchic founding ideas. Kahlo was unmoved by Breton's charismatic self-importance, in part because of the predominantly intellectual and abstract cast of his notions. While Breton was inspired by what was alien to the rational world of the white European male -- madness, women, the exotic Kahlo's creative impulse came from her own concrete reality. [d] Kahlo's paintings, her public work, shared with Surrealism a number of characteristics: an interest in the unconscious; disquieting, often inchoate imagery; and unorthodox subject matter, all traits of the second phase of French Surrealism, when the imagists, such as Salvador Dali, Rene Magritte, and Yves Tanguy, were ascendant. Their work generally relied on realism, however distorted, and on spatial constructions called "landscapes of the mind." Paradoxically, Kahlo's diary has more affinity to the tenets of the first Manifesto of Surrealism, in which psychic automatism or automatic drawing was used to bypass the rational mind and unlock the unconscious. This concept derived from Breton's reading of Freud's analysis of dreams and dreamwork, and among the artists who subscribed to this practice were Max Ernst, Andre Masson, and Joan Miro. [e] Nearly every drawing in Kahlo's diary is spontaneous and unplanned. Kahlo's automatic drawings were springboards to images that lurked in her unconscious, visions she teased out and then elaborated. After allowing herself the freedom to doodle, Kahlo put (at least part of) her rational mind to work, and from her vast lexicon of images, real and imagined, her biomorphic forms developed into faces, body parts, animals, and landscapes. Her visual sources were extensive: she was a voracious reader, a habit fed during the many periods when she was bedridden. [f] Kahlo relished the element of chance in these drawings, and she coaxed a number of figures from ink spots, stains resulting from deliberately spilled and splattered ink, some pressed onto the opposite page, others so thick they soaked through to the next sheet of paper (plates 33-3) and 61- 2, for example). She used a variety of mediums -- colored pencils, inks and washes, crayons and Contes, and gouache -- and her choice at any one point also influenced her imagery. Although the most obvious case is Kahlo's list of colors and their meanings (plate 15), throughout the diary, Kahlo let the utensil she picked up dictate to her. Adding to the sense of serendipity in many of the images are the caption-like remarks Kahlo often added, comments that express her own surprise at the final outcome: "The unforeseen phenomenon" (plate 42) she titles one page, and "Who is this idiot?" (plate 81) she questions another. Indeed, rarely do the texts that accompany the drawings illuminate their significance; rather, they are ruminations that are as evocative and complex as the images. [g] *** That Kahlo's diary is at all decipherable is a measure, not of her desire to communicate, but of an almost obsessive return to a handful of themes. [h] One, of course, is Kahlo's devotion to and love for Rivera, as evidenced by long, ardent love letters and the many pages that bear dedications to him. She expresses myriad emotions, from her sexual desire to a maternal nurturing to a mystical account of their union. Kahlo is endlessly inventive in her casting of their roles in their complementary and symbiotic relationship. Among the most interesting is her envisioning of their connection through art: in several passages she refers to "auxocromo" and "cromoforo," "the yin and yang of color. He, auxocromo, captures color; she, cromoforo, gives color. Rivera is ever- present in the journal. Throughout Kahlo refers to elements of Mexican culture that date back to a Pre-Columbian origin. Traces of the Pre-Conquest culture turn up in her modern world, for example, in Kahlo's habitual wearing of indigenous costume and braiding her hair with brightly colored wool cords or fabrics into a headdress known as a tlacoyal. [i] Kahlo made an even more direct connection with her past by adorning herself with rings, necklaces, and earrings of gold, jadeite, beads, and shells, many of which incorporated Aztec symbols or glyphs. In much the same way, Kahlo's journal is sprinkled with words from Nahuatl, the Aztec language; many such words have made their way into everyday Mexican vocabulary (plates 26 and 117). Kahlo also saw herself as heir to an incredibly rich source of fantastic imagery through her Mexican ancestry, less strictly biological and more cultural. The civilizations of the Olmecs, Aztecs, and Toltecs, as appropriated, reformulated, and even idealized by Kahlo, composed her personal past. [j] The gods and myths, the figurines and codices, the pyramids and temples of the ancients provided her with a genealogy that linked her with the greatness of Mexico, as it did for many of her peers. Her response to ancient Mexico was quite different from that of the European Surrealists, who sought "unfamiliar" myths and artifacts to help revitalize their art. The invocation of Aztec civilization reverberated as political gesture at a time when the growing interest in indigenous art coincided with a keener sense of nationalism. [k] The double-page spread on plates 114-15 makes the connection between politics and the ancient roots of Mexican culture clear. Kahlo pairs the symbols of Communism with those of the Aztecs, and calls attention to her politics and her commitment to social causes. Kahlo had been sympathetic with Communism since her youth: she joined the Young Communist League in 1927, when she was twenty, and throughout her life threw her support behind causes which were sponsored by the Party. She claimed to have read widely in its literature and to have a clear grasp of dialectical materialism. [l] But by the mid-forties Kahlo's interest in Communism moved beyond social conscience and became an epistemological, perhaps even religious, search for "pillars" that could support her faith. [m] Her thousand-year Mexican heritage offered solace. By combining Communism with this conviction, Kahlo fashioned an ideal that was uncomplicated by the realities of the two regimes, for neither the bloodthirsty, class-divided aspects of the Aztecs, nor the authoritative, regimented practices of Stalin are considered. Kahlo distills and purifies her vision of her two faiths, honoring them as idealized powers that gave her strength, especially as she saw her life drawing to an end. *** Kahlo kept this diary for the last ten years of her life, and it documents her physical decline. Dated pages are sporadic, and thus it is difficult to discern the chronology. But an awful progression -- regression -- is unmistakable, as Kahlo faces the loneliness and terror of her illnesses. Even as a child, she was familiar with the role of patient. She contracted polio when she was seven years old; eleven years later she had a near-fatal accident and suffered a broken spine, collar and pelvic bones, crushed right leg and foot. Kahlo's chronic pain, however, and her encasement in orthopedic corsets and plaster casts for months at a time, the trophic ulcers she suffered on her right foot (which led to its amputation shortly before her death), and the roughly thirty-five operations she is said to have undergone may have been caused by a congenital malformation of her spine, a condition called spina bifida. [l] [n] Her diary chronicles her quest for cures, her resigning herself to the dictates of her medical advisers, and her often stoic response to their failures. Part of Kahlo's preoccupation with the details of her infirmities springs from her youthful interest in physiology and biology. Before her fateful accident, Kahlo was taking science courses as prerequisites for becoming a doctor; even as she convalesced, the thought of combining her interest in art and science by becoming a scientific illustrator came to her. Indeed, these studies provided Kahlo with potent visual analogies and metaphors, which she marshaled in her paintings and used throughout her diary: internal organs and processes were often seen outside her body, while she used x-ray vision to picture her broken bones and spine. Of all her biological and botanical metaphors, Kahlo made the most effective use of roots and veins, tendrils and nerves, all routes for transmitting nourishment or pain. [o] Despite the pain and anguish Kahlo freely and openly expressed in her diary, her unquenchable thirst for life reveals itself. Her wit and alegria, her sense of irony and black humor all emerge here. "She had invented her own language, her own way of speaking Spanish, full of vitality and accompanied by gestures, mimicry, laughter, jokes, and a great sense of irony," a student of hers recalled. [2] The self-portrait we find in the diary makes more human "la gran ocultadora" of her paintings, and replaces the implacable mask [p] with intimate -- at times horrifying details of affliction and despair. But Kahlo also shows her great strength, the resolve only intense suffering confers. "Anguish and pain," she writes, "pleasure and death are no more than a process" (plates 77-78). Kahlo's diary dramatically and explicitly conveys this process, and is a testimony to her vigilant recording, in words and pictures, of her inexorable path toward death. [q] _______________ 1. Herrera, Frlda Kahlo: The Paintings: 36-37. Extra Footnotes by Tara Carreon, American-Buddha Librarian: [a] Deemed by who? Screw you and your reverence, Ms. Sarah M. Lowe, and your Illuminati "self" hatred. Okay, listen: because I've heard this stupid argument so many times, I am going to blast it to smithereens. Pick your high-tech science-fiction weapon. This baby is going down. The Illuminati think they are so clever making this argument about universal emotion and human condition, when really they are the ultimate retards. You do not get universal emotion and human condition by imagining some kind of group mind, departing away from "excessively" personal and self-referential. Like "excessive" means anything more than a bunch of Satan-worshiping Catholics pointing their fingers at everyone else. Group mind is a complete illusion. In fact, universal emotion and human condition are achieved exactly by, let's change the word to "maximum" personal and self-referential, and by no other means. The more maximum personal and self-referential, the more universal emotion and human condition. Only by getting to the heart of each person, by plumbing the depths of personal, do we have anything meaningful to share with others. Because what is maximum personal to us is maximum personal to others. This Illuminati argument is therefore 100% bogus. [a1] This is nothing but religion and misogyny masquerading as art criticism. These guys are into masks. Thus, all the references to Frida's "masklike visage," "artist unmasked," and "implacable mask." They are terrified of taking off their masks; then people would know the scum they are.
Religion and Misogyny Masquerading as Art Criticism -- "They Going to Stick It To You!" [b] "False honesty and omission ...," "pure revelation was impeded ..." -- What are you talking about beyond slander and name-calling? [c] "Inattentive to day-to-day goings-on ...," "a repository for feelings (and images) that do not fit anywhere else ...," "pages must be approached with some trepidation ...," "an image of the artist unmasked ...," -- WTH *&%$#@@! This is her personal diary, you supreme idiot of all time! You have no business judging her diary! [d] Oh, are women "alien to the rational world of the white European male"? What kind of a woman-hating-woman are you, Ms. Sarah M. Lowe? [e] Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. [f] Damn those reading habits. [g] "Rarely do the texts that accompany the drawings illuminate their significance ..." -- I'm tired of you and and Carlos Fuentes criticizing Frida Kahlo. Go jump in a lake, both of you! [h] "That Kahlo's diary is at all decipherable ..." -- Refer to footnote [g] [i] "Habitual wearing of indigenous costume ..." -- Refer to footnote [g] [j] "The civilizations of the Olmecs, Aztecs, and Toltecs, as appropriated, reformulated, and even idealized by Kahlo ..." -- refer to footnote [g] [k] "The invocation of Aztec civilization reverberated as political gesture ..." -- refer to footnote [g] [l] "She claimed to have read widely in its literature and to have a clear grasp of dialectical materialism ..." -- refer to footnote [g] [m] Really, you and Carlos Fuentes are too much trying to turn everything into religious impulse. [n] Are you fucking crazy out of your mind? All her operations and pain were because of a congenital disease, not her accident? You're just dying to make her problems genetic, aren't you, you little eugenics Hitler person you, so you can blame her at the genetic level. No greater blame than that! [o] Oh, I thought that was her pantheistic urge, according to Carlos Fuentes. [p] What implacable mask? You are talking out your asshole. [q] All you can think about is her death. Frida's diary is not a vigilant recording of her inexorable path to death, but of every bit of life that was in her. She was a beautiful woman in all ways, and screw anyone who would say otherwise. If you'd like to engage me further on this subject, I would be happy to go on forever. I'll give you one helluva fight.
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