She lived in colors and tragedy; bold red and glittery gold. Holding her red book, she was wearing leather corset and a tehuana skirt, in the frame imprinted on her house. Who was she?
Coyoacán, a cultural hub in Mexico City, on the weekend offered a bunch of options to explore indigenous sides of Mexico. Among bars, traditional markets and local performances, her house was the chosen one; Museo Frida Kahlo. From the outside it was a fortress consists of striking blue wall and gigantic green door with such a long queue. As I stepped up the corridor stairs and got in the building of the left area, I was depicted to who is she from her fashion style; an eccentric and modest woman. She loved to wear those beautiful Mexican traditional dresses but what appealed me the most from those attributes was the crutches. It was a bus accident—painted her skin with blood and gold glittery powder exhibiting a terrible beauty just like the characteristics of her artwork. Her name, Frida Kahlo, is famous for surrealism painting which is not only a media to express but also to criticize, in other words to make a movement. Strolling the greenery yard decorated with some aztec statues I then got in the second building; a shelter where she used to sleep, paint, cook and even host a big figure like Leon Trotsky. Frida Kahlo and her beloved husband Diego Rivera, also an artist and social activist, always open their door for everyone to share kindness. This house shared warmth and brought the visitors to a beautiful nostalgic of simple life; the furniture, the painting equipment even the earthenware in the kitchen, made me gaze in amazement. Pulmonary embolism took her life away but she is still here. She never dies. Living in her painting and her zeal. This house unsilenced her ideology and her partiality to the marginals. Frida never gave birth but the generations who embrace her spirit is her successor, her children, that is not limited by citizenship and background are the people who will continue her fight. Her legacy in the form of art will never run out. Moreover, her diary, those are sold in the form of book, would be able to share her romantic life through her colorful rustic drawings from surrealist to idealist. She still lives in her everlasting artwork. Stepping out from her house, I still had a fortnight stay in Mexico to uncover other local uniqueness. I never thought I would have a chance like this, to be introduced to great mother through her lively residence. Eventually, I was conscious that in the travel journey a lot of unexpected things always happen!
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