In all of our travels thus far, I’ve yet to encounter a story as inspirational as Frida Kahlo’s. Polio at 6. A horrendous bus vs. streetcar crash that by some miracle didn’t kill her but robbed Frida of her fertility. A brief affair between her husband and her own flesh and blood. To say that Frida Kahlo had a rough life would be an understatement. But she endured it all, channeling her pain into something beautiful: art.
Despite his unfaithfulness, Diego Rivera, Kahlo’s husband and another famous Mexican artist, clearly loved Frida dearly. After she died, he went to work ensuring that her life — her art, her individuality, her pain — would live on. And that’s what we found here at Casa Azul, the house Diego and Kahlo happily shared for years, now a museum open to the public for a nominal fee.
Upstairs in Casa Azul, we found Frida’s workspace, the place where she painted. A sign tells us that her brushes and paints remain just as she left them before she died. What a lovely, yet eerie thought…
This photo was taken with my Sony RX-100 III. (Continue to view full photo.)
This post was handcrafted for you during our travels in Mexico.