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Beauty is Convulsive: The Passion of Frida Kahlo

Page 3

by Carole Maso


  Their criticisms, gossip, recriminations

  in the demeaning, in the mean-spirited

  “Unregenerate junkie,” apply layers of disdain, “nymphomaniac, suicidal, alcoholic, self-dramatizing, narcissist” Easy for you to say

  And she is dying posthumously one more time in their scorn … martyr bordered, la misericorda.

  Papa!

  holding the yellow flower that the Aztecs associated with death and that decorate graves all over Mexico.

  Her magic numbers, talismans — to ward off any more

  the internal lyrical motives that impelled her

  All the things she loved

  her characteristic small slow affectionate strokes

  Diego

  She paints on the smoothness of metal — touch, touch and gently with her meticulous brush

  the skin of the fruit, tree, rock, stream

  I feel you

  all is alive I feel you

  the miracle of her touch with paint

  her pain in paint

  Heart, uterus, breasts, spine

  longing, longing, she paints

  intestines — the valves up close

  blood through

  trembling

  smallest of brushes like eyelashes on skin

  she trembles

  every hair stands up

  painting fur

  the tenderness of her touch

  a parrot, a small dog

  skin of water, fruit, birds

  softness — the velvet curtain

  the folds of dress

  one foot in oblivion—

  love me a little

  and she feels with her eyes the water all over her

  and she paints, the flatness of rock, the texture of feather and tree

  the exposed heart

  roots, veins

  If you could feel what I feel.

  Drops of mother’s milk, drops of blood, the weeping fruit

  She feels in her the motion

  And I am painting the skin of my body—

  my pain

  with a small brush

  something so dear

  with reverence.

  a touch like no other

  There is no artist in Mexico that can compare with her, he says.

  The blood pumping of the heart, the severed valves, hurt, love. Your blood flows up into the distant mountains and down into the sea, chasm, the red delta, red river, fluid, brutal poetry of blood and broken

  green: warm and good light

  cobalt blue: electricity and purity. Love

  she feels in her the joy, the yellow pulsing mystery madness

  She feels in her the music, voices, pictures, sings.

  drawn to the swirling

  vibrant, magnetic, Diego, the way color

  pulses—

  the way—

  color comes and goes

  She feels in her the alegría

  She would become happy in front of any beautiful thing.

  the way color keeps

  the way color has always kept

  drawn to the swirling

  the way the line redeems

  consoles sometimes.

  the way — broken

  impassive, furious, anguished—

  the torso split paint

  without flinching

  steel corset

  breaking apart

  Diego why?

  ionic column

  answer me.

  a pair of legs severed from their body and between them a pair of lips.

  a blood red ribbon circling her neck now Diego don’t go.

  Diego

  Love me a little I adore you

  the way the ribbon connects—

  blood of Mexico

  — transcends

  because I loved you, wanted you.

  promiscuous one,

  a monkey tail encircles her neck

  and lust is just another adornment (thorn necklace,

  hummingbird)

  a way of getting there

  The monkey Frida naked, laughing. Fulang Chang! she cries, she paints.

  Votive: devotion

  egg, pagan, emblem of creation she paints

  you are rejuvenation, you are spring and resurrection, sanctity of blood, beating wings as your teeth

  As your teeth sink into him and you swear yourself once more into being.

  turbulence of earth, puberty and you are back once more at the Preparatoria before, before …

  Accident:

  ferocious child of light

  the broken eggs, maimed dolls, the figure blindfolded, the torn bridal canopy

  And she smiles and she utters unearthly things and she utters not in any known language, in stars and pain, pulque she says I am devouring time and the earth

  put it in my eyes now

  votive: vision

  ACCIDENT

  I am not sick. I am broken.

  I am happy as long as I can paint.

  Survivor

  Between the Curtains (Self-Portrait Dedicated to Trotsky)

  Fulang Chang and Myself

  The Square Is Theirs (Four Inhabitants of Mexico)

  I With My Nurse

  They Ask for Planes and Only Get Straw Wings

  I Belong to My Owner

  My Family (My Grandparents, My Parents and I)

  The Heart (Memory)

  My Dress Hangs There

  What the Water Gave Me

  Ixcuintle Dog with Me

  Pitahayas

  Tunas

  Food From the Earth

  Remembrance of an Open Wound

  The Lost Desire (Henry Ford Hospital)

  Birth

  Dressed Up for Paradise

  She Plays Alone

  Passionately in Love

  Burbank — American Fruit Maker

  Xochitl

  The Frame

  Eye

  Survivor

  ACCIDENT

  I have a cat’s luck since I do not

  die so easily and that’s always something.

  Accident

  Written by Dr. Henriette Begun in 1946

  1926: Accident causes fracture of third and fourth lumbar vertebrae, three fractures of pelvis, eleven fractures of right foot, dislocation of left elbow, penetrating abdominal wound caused by iron handrail entering left hip, exiting through vagina and tearing left lip. Acute peritonitis. Cystitis with catheterization for many days. Three months bed rest at Red Cross hospital. Spinal fracture not recognized by doctors until Dr. Ortiz Tirado ordered immobilization with plaster corset for nine months. After three or four months of corset patient suddenly felt entire right side “as if asleep” for hour or more, this phenomenon giving way with injections and massage; symptoms not repeated. At removal of corset patient resumed “normal” life, but from then on has had sensation of constant fatigue and at times pain in backbone and right leg, which now never leave her.

  1929: Marriage. Normal sex life. Pregnancy in first year of marriage. Abortion because of malformed pelvis. Wasserman and Kahn (W&K) tests negative. Constant fatigue and weight loss.

  1931: In San Francisco, California, examined by Dr. Leo Eloesser. Given several tests, W&K among them, these resulting slightly positive. Two months treatment without a cure. No analysis of spinal fluid. In these days pain in right foot worse, atrophy up to thigh in right leg increases considerably, tendons of 2 toes in right foot retracted, making normal walking extremely difficult. Dr. Eloesser diagnoses congenital deformity of the backbone. X-rays show considerable scoliosis and apparent fusion of third and fourth lumbar vertebrae with disappearance of invertebrate meniscus. Small trophic ulcer appears on right foot.

  1932: In Detroit, Michigan, attended by Dr. Pratt of Henry Ford Hospital for second pregnancy (four months) with spontaneous abortion despite bed rest and various treatments. Trophic ulcer continues to worsen.

  1934: Third pregnancy. At three months abortion performed by
Dr. Zollinger in Mexico. Exploratory laparotomy showed undeveloped ovaries. Appendectomy. First operation on right foot: excision of five phalanges. Extremely slow healing.

  1935: Second operation on right foot, finding several sesamoids. Healing equally slow. Lasts nearly six months.

  1936: Third operation on right foot. From that time on: extreme nervousness, fatigue in backbone with alternating periods of improvement.

  1938: Consults specialists in bones, nerves and skin in New York. Dr. Glusker succeeds in healing trophic

  ulcer with electrical and other treatments.

  1939: Paris, France. Renal colobacteriosis with high fever. Continued backbone fatigue. Ingests great quantities of alcohol. At the end of this year has acute pain in backbone. Attended in Mexico by Dr. Farill, who orders absolute bed rest with twenty kilogram weight to stretch spine. Several specialists visit and all advise Albee operation: Dr. Albee himself advises same by letter. Dr. Marin and Eloesser oppose this. Fungus infection appears on fingers of right hand.

  1940: Moves to San Francisco, California. Treated by Dr. Eloesser: absolute rest, very nutritious food, no alcohol, electrotherapy, calcium therapy. Slightly better, again lives more or less normal life.

  1941: Again experiences exhaustion, with continuous weakness in back, violent pain in extremities. Weight loss, debility, menstrual irregularity.

  1944: These years show significant increase in tiredness, backbone and right-leg pain. Seen by Dr. Zimbron, who orders absolute bed rest, steel corset which at first makes for more comfort but without stopping pain. When corset occasionally removed, feels lack of support as though unable to support herself. Complete lack of appetite continues with rapid weight loss. Weakness, nausea; ordered to bed, evening fever. Patient’s state continues worsening. Dr. Zimbron repeats analysis and x-ray, lumbar tap with lipoidal injection (third time). Reaches conclusion that she should be given a laminectomy and spinal graft. Eye examination shows papillary hypoplasia.

  1945: Again made to wear plaster corset. Can be stood for only a few days because of intense pain in backbone and leg. In the three cerebrospinal taps there were lipoidal injections which were not eliminated: caused higher than normal cranial tension, continued pain in back of neck and spinal column, generally dull but stronger during nervous excitement. General state: exhaustion.

  1946: Dr. Glusker advises patient to go to New York to see Dr. Philip Wilson, surgeon specializing in spinal operations. Leaves for New York in May. Carefully examined by Dr. Wilson and neurology specialists who consider spinal fusion necessary and urgent. Performed by Dr. Wilson in June this year. Four lumbar vertebrae fused with pelvis graft and fifteen-centimeter long vitalium plate; bed rest for three months. Patient recovers. Advised to wear special steel corset for eight months, lead calm, restful life. Obvious improvement noted for first three months after operation, after which patient cannot follow Dr. Wilson’s orders. Then not convalescing in due form, life filled with nervous agitation, little rest. Feels same fatigue as before, aching neck and backbone, debility, weight loss. Macrocytic anemia. Fungus again appears on right hand.

  ACCIDENT

  Nevertheless I have the will to do many things

  and I have never felt “disappointed by life”

  as in Russian novels.

  The Hours Were Broken Divorce

  “the stitches do not heal over and the wound does not look as if it is closing.”

  Cut your hair and watch it fall. Into a circle, desolation. The hair, retaliation rage, wear a man’s suit your tears are nails, and a lock of hair is falling, falling, between your legs the scissors resting there, the hair which he adored.

  Let the scissors enter the body. Let the two Fridas, hair everywhere, hair everywhere liar, liar, why hair in the rungs of the—yellow for madness or sickness or fear—

  the yellow chair … Outside severed rest there.

  And she paints in rage and sorrow fury. And she paints some say the greatest of her paintings Diego Diego

  House for birds

  Nests for love

  All for nothing

  I sell it all for nothing

  Cropped Hair

  Now that you don’t love me—

  divorce — the legs dancing away from the rest of the body.

  She watched other people dance.

  There’s no escaping the monkey’s paw thorny barbaric yawl

  her heart is a fountain its severed valves pump misericorda

  the lacerated Mexican saint,

  all the martyred ones.

  What the water gave you finally

  What the pain

  You so far over there now paint. The table is wounded. Its legs flayed maimed paint. See how Judas’s chest and right foot are bleeding: and the skeleton has a broken right foot. Over, broken utterly alone, and she paints her death in lavender and the plants that will sprout on her grave. And that skeleton there grinning on the canopy of her bed.

  votive: oblivion

  Diego, Diego

  Ven.

  Come to me

  Bride tonight

  She paints herself, friends, companions, nieces, pets. Desperate no children Diego no, not that anything but she paints: on that desolate soulscape—

  The blood red ribbon uniting her and the paint and the pain

  and the world in which

  She is walking down a dirt road alone

  Diego

  the heart

  the lock

  cut look if I loved you it was for your hair

  ring

  crow feather swallow

  the fetus floating in a bottle

  The lock of hair, the ring, the song, the hope (, mother) put it

  in a box,

  the love we had the dreams the child.

  one side and the other

  the ether rising, the smell of formaldehyde

  the locket Diego

  now that your hair is cropped short I do not love you anymore

  the heart — extract it

  the pain, isolate it

  when it gets too much

  Cristina

  when it gets too much

  the ribbons from her hair

  the dreaming head

  fevered

  put the dream in the box put the fever, put the—other people dance—sorrow put the talons—Bonito—

  in another place.

  the image.

  And the one you adored

  put the crimson in the white box

  sparrows in a jar

  put the tears put the river Papa

  put the hurt on one side and the corset (Cristina why?)

  the gradual falling apart.

  put the empty clothing

  because I wanted

  you here your dress over there.

  Diego don’t go

  Black in the gaps between leaves shows that the time is night which to Frida meant the end of life

  Diego

  And you break into two Fridas — one the Frida whom Diego loves and the other the Frida Diego no longer loves.

  Rupture Forceps Incision

  the motive, Diego, was always you, and if the pain might be relieved, a little. And to keep you. And the knife, and the sweet suture, oh it will feel like being alive or—

  the autoeroticism of her wounds

  the thing that impels patients to want surgery, love me, love me my frog-prince,

  and the footless, and the headless, the cracked open and bleeding — not passive, not dying

  don’t go out that door

  — open me

  And I want desperately …

  open me up

  What do you want desperately?

  Don’t go out that door.

  The hours were broken

  libidinous she gives herself freely now she takes

  Silky and yellow yellow for illness and madness the way that hair might have felt, her hair in your hands, like a real gringa

  the succulent root

&
nbsp; Diego

  Don’t go.

  Hair on fire candle table shirt ablaze—

  Diego gone again Maria Felix on fire—stay

  In the sound of the clock as he moves away

  frieze:

  A line of Diego heads — A row of Diegos — frieze—

  don’t go.

  the Judas of your touch

  we are held together by tears

  Numbers, the economy

  the farce of words

  nerves are blue.

  I don’t know why — also red,

  but full of color.

  Diego, Diego

  We are held together by arrows now.

  ~ ~ ~

  martyrdom of glass. the great nonsense

  Votive: Oblivion

  votive: Diego are the vows you take

  9 arrows

  votive: oblivion to kill the pain

  In the sound of the clock, in the pulse of the light,

  Diego, Diego.

  In the violence, in the calm Diego, Diego,

  my child, my light.

  A childish thing.

  Child of the people

  Child of the revolution

  Child of brilliance (standing on a scaffold)

  But always a child.

  Frog kingdom prince.

  Mirror of night.

  Child of the great occultist

  Child of cruelty

  Her bridled, brotheled humor

  love Diego

  and love Diego

  demented

  covered in gold a metal rod through her pelvis

  and love Diego is just another

  maiming thing

  another kind of injury

  transforming thing.

  Accident:

  the landscape is day and night.

  And she remembers when her mouth …

  She lures men up double staircases to her lair—

  as he breaks her heart again Diego just to keep up.

  Her library of lovers, her Noguchi, her Trotsky, Diego, Diego.

  Her viva Sandino, her viva Zapata, Diego, Diego

  for you

  All the assassinated ones. And that cinema of poverty.

  Singing drunken patriotic songs all night

  the theater of their lives.

  Diego who never entirely leaves her body

  a maiming thing

  mountainous thing

  passion retablo

  Accident:

  imagine a red plea in the bright light

 

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