From Gender Fluidity to Disability Art

Frida Kahlo, b. 1907, was a Latin American painter and a powerful woman far ahead of her time. Today, Kahlo is often recognized as a Mexican, queer icon, whose work intertwined with identity and gender fluidity, in an era where being a woman alone would have come with enormous inequality. As the wife of Diego Rivera, a world-renowned muralist, she often lived amongst the shadows of his success, and was not fully appreciated until after her death.

As a person with physical disabilities, Kahlo did not allow society’s view of disability to limit her artistic freedom. This is in great contrast to other artists, who often did not depict themselves in a “bad light”, as art critics, due to sociopolitical culture, believed that depicting one’s disability would draw away from their art, not add greater aesthetic value. Nonetheless, Kahlo sought to depict the life of a disabled person and how those critical experiences carried over to the everyday as someone in a wheelchair.  

In a 1938 interview, Kahlo stated that:

“I never knew I was a Surrealist till André Breton came to Mexico and told me I was. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint always whatever passes through my head, without any other consideration. . . . I have suffered two serious accidents in my life…One where a tram hit me when I was sixteen years old: spinal fracture, twenty years of immobility…The other accident was Diego…”

As a result, Kahlo purely employed visual communication as a way to visualize her experiences. This is evident in The Broken Column, a self-portrait painting that sheds light on Frida’s inner feelings after a surgery that tried to “fix” her spinal cord. The choice to reveal an internal torso brace is interesting, as this could possibly reflect an attempt to heal. However, the sharp nails placed throughout the body, with a larger nail pierced in her heart, in addition to the exemption of her spine leads me to suggest otherwise. While these metaphorical elements can certainly reflect pain, I wonder if the feeling of constantly being picked and poked and the need to be “fixed” plays into Kahlo’s piece. The two-point perspective, reflecting Kahlo externally and internally, offers a unique perspective into how the artist felt within the depth of layers the human eye cannot perceive, a condition that without a wheelchair, is readily invisible. Additionally, the artist appears to be in pain, evident by the cold facial appearance and tears falling from red, tired eyes. Taking in each element — the isolated desert with a muted green-blue color palette in contrast with the blood red of her battles — the viewer is left to feel the weight of Kahlo’s brushstrokes.