1, 2, 3 ..... FRIDA!

In our own lives, there are things that stay deep within us. Problems, sorrows and painful events that we are afraid to talk about because they are too agonizing. We don’t even think about them because they hurt too much. But Frida Kahlo took the painful things in her life and painted them; exposing her most vulnerable and most tender spots. She allows all of us to go deep within her soul to feel those sorrows and understand what her life was like. It has been a dream of mine to attend a Frida Kahlo exhibit because I have always been fascinated by the brutal and beautiful honesty of her paintings.

Frida Kahlo’s exhibit in San Francisco was so popular that you had to buy a ticket for a specific time. In order to control the heavy foot traffic going in and out of the museum, you could only enter the exhibit at the time stamped on your ticket. We had a 1:00 p.m. start time and at 12:45 a short line was already forming inside the museum. My heart was pounding and I could hardly wait to get in. Around the corner I could see two of her paintings and that made me even more anxious.

The guy taking the tickets saw me and looked at the time on my ticket. He said, “It’s only 12:50, you know.” I smiled and explained that I was excited and just couldn’t wait. He took my ticket, and as he ripped the side off he said, “Three, two, one, FRIDA!” He opened the gate and I flew through.

As you slowly drift from painting to painting, you feel as if you are reading someone’s journal. You are going through the life of an outspoken woman who endured unthinkable pain, suffered tremendous losses, had outstanding gains, beat many odds and was usually circled in controversy. You see the deepest, darkest places of her life and no matter how tragic or beautiful, you can’t look away.

I walked up to “Henry Ford Hospital” in which Frida painted the excruciating pain of one of her many miscarriages. Previously, I could only glance at prints of the painting because it was so filled with heartache I could hardly stand it. But as I stood in front of the real thing, I gazed at it for what seemed like days. I ached for Frida and for the people I know who have gone through that. I had a glimpse of what it means to endure that kind of sorrow and I wept. I found many others in the room were weeping, too.

I saw my favorite painting “The Love Embrace of the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Myself, Diego and Señor Xólotl” and was amazed by the emotion seeping out of it. Frida’s devotion and undying love for Diego Rivera is obvious in this painting as in many other paintings. But in this one, I also see balance and a mutual need for each other. I see a natural and spiritual connection between them. To me, this painting is a touching love story.

Many times I am asked why I like Frida’s paintings. Some people have told me that her work is “too bloody” and “makes no sense.” I admit that Frida’s paintings are intense but that is what sets them apart. Her work doesn’t just speak; it screams. It weeps. Her paintings are alive and they give you a humbling, honest look into a woman’s life whose deep-rooted issues were not always pretty. Sometimes life is brutal and difficult to look at. Sometimes it is as vibrant and fresh as her painting, “Viva La Vida - The Watermelons.” Either way, her paintings are the real Frida and an invitation to see life through different eyes.

San. Fran. Thank you, ma'am.

In early September, my friend D and I had a very quick trip to San Francisco. We landed on a Friday and were gone by Sunday. Our main reason for going was to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. I will need a whole different post to cover Frida so for now, let’s talk about San Pancho.

Our stay was less than 48 hours long but we crammed a lot in there. The museum, Lombard Street, Fisherman’s Wharf, Alcatraz, Golden Gate Bridge, cable cars, sourdough bread and more Painted Ladies than I could count. (Ahem, these Painted Ladies - get your mind out of the gutter.)

The thing I like about San Francisco is the public transportation. I’m a big fan of trains, buses, mass transit, etc… and San Fran has done it right. It was super easy to get around and super cheap. Oh, and it is super crowded so I hope you don’t mind odd smells or the occasional inappropriate graze.

The thing that surprised me about San Francisco was the weird hours they keep. It was around 8:00 p.m. California time on a Friday night and we wanted to grab a quick bite near our hotel in the shopping district. We were exhausted and didn’t feel like making a big deal out of dinner. After walking around several blocks, we found that all the restaurants had closed around 7. We actually had to eat at an ice skating rink concession stand that night. Gross!

The thing I really dislike about San Francisco was their weather. They have a horrible climate there – on one block you are sweating bullets and on another block you are covered up with scarves and gloves. You have to be prepared for all kinds of weather in just one day and when you are traveling, that is a lot to carry around. In fact, carrying the cold weather clothes was so cumbersome that I actually lost my scarf. As I type this, someone in the Haight/Ashbury district is cozying up with my $3 Old Navy scarf.

The thing I love about San Francisco is their diversity. There are so many different cultures there and each seems to have their own neighborhood. Their diversity brings such interesting people, foods, traditions and lifestyles into one city. Way cool! They are so different but live so harmoniously. Well, except maybe this guy.

On Sunday, we got to the airport and discovered that our plane was delayed. That caused us to miss our connecting flight in L.A. After several heated conversations and much stress, they were able to get us to L.A. and then we had to fly to Albuquerque. From there we flew to Denver. From there we finally flew into Dallas. We were supposed to have landed in DFW at 6:00 p.m. on Sunday but instead we landed on Monday at 1:00 a.m. After four flights in 12 hours across 4 states, it was only fitting that they lost our luggage and it wasn’t returned to us until Tuesday. Fun!

Frida and me hanging out by Alcatraz.












The last pic of my scarf.

Lombard Street