In the last few years, I’ve developed a deep adoration and fascination with Frida Kahlo. I’m very late to the party, but honestly, for most of my life I knew nothing of her other than being a pop culture icon, a face plastered on miscellaneous trinkets and tote bags. About two years ago, I finally dove head first into her: I read the beautiful biography by Hayden Herrera, and fell in love. I’ve since traveled to Mexico City twice to visit her home and to view her paintings in person, and have devoured all that I can of her and her life.
I’m drawn to the raw emotions in her artwork, but I find myself more fascinated with the artist more so than her art. I feel I’m stating the obvious here, but Frida embodies the ultimate divine feminine: a visceral radiance that allows herself to be consumed by a ferocious love.
These images by Julien Levy are my favorite images of Frida that I’ve found. She’s so casually comfortable in her skin, despite how her body is permanently and irrevocably damaged. She is effortless and timeless, an endurance of will.
I am my own muse, I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.
images via The Philadelphia Museum of Art