View allAll Photos Tagged FridaKahlo
Diego,
Truth is, so great, that I wouldn’t like to speak, or sleep, or listen, or love. To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood, outside time and magic, within your own fear, and your great anguish, and within the very beating of your heart. All this madness, if I asked it of you, I know, in your silence, there would be only confusion. I ask you for violence, in the nonsense, and you, you give me grace, your light and your warmth. I’d like to paint you, but there are no colors, because there are so many, in my confusion, the tangible form of my great love.
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Diego,
Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold of your eyes. My body is filled with you for days and days. you are the mirror of the night. the violent flash of lightning. the dampness of the earth. The hollow of your armpits is my shelter. my fingers touch your blood. All my joy is to feel life spring from your flower-fountain that mine keeps to fill all the paths of my nerves which are yours.
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Auxochrome — Chromophore. Diego.
She who wears the color.
He who sees the color.
Since the year 1922.
Until always and forever. Now in 1944. After all the hours lived through. The vectors continue in their original direction. Nothing stops them. With no more knowledge than live emotion. With no other wish than to go on until they meet. Slowly. With great unease, but with the certainty that all is guided by the “golden section.” There is cellular arrangement. There is movement. There is light. All centers are the same. Folly doesn’t exist. We are the same as we were and as we will be. Not counting on idiotic destiny.
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My Diego,
Mirror of the night
Your eyes green swords inside my flesh. waves between our hands.
All of you in a space full of sounds — in the shade and in the light. You were called AUXOCHROME the one who captures color. I CHROMOPHORE — the one who gives color.
You are all the combinations of numbers. life. My wish is to understand lines form shades movement. You fulfill and I receive. Your word travels the entirety of space and reaches my cells which are my stars then goes to yours which are my light.
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Auxochrome — Chromophore
It was the thirst of many years restrained in our body. Chained words which we could not say except on the lips of dreams. Everything was surrounded by the green miracle of the landscape of your body. Upon your form, the lashes of the flowers responded to my touch, the murmur of streams. There was all manner of fruits in the juice of your lips, the blood of the pomegranate, the horizon of the mammee and the purified pineapple. I pressed you against my breast and the prodigy of your form penetrated all my blood through the tips of my fingers. Smell of oak essence, memories of walnut, green breath of ash tree. Horizon and landscapes = I traced them with a kiss. Oblivion of words will form the exact language for understanding the glances of our closed eyes. = You are here, intangible and you are all the universe which I shape into the space of my room. Your absence springs trembling in the ticking of the clock, in the pulse of light; you breathe through the mirror. From you to my hands, I caress your entire body, and I am with you for a minute and I am with myself for a moment. And my blood is the miracle which runs in the vessels of the air from my heart to yours.
The green miracle of the landscape of my body becomes in your the whole of nature. I fly through it to caress the rounded hills with my fingertips, my hands sink into the shadowy valleys in an urge to possess and I’m enveloped in the embrace of gentle branches, green and cool. I penetrate the sex of the whole earth, her heat chars me and my entire body is rubbed by the freshness of the tender leaves. Their dew is the sweat of an ever-new lover.
It’s not love, or tenderness, or affection, it’s life itself, my life, that I found what I saw it in your hands, in your month and in your breasts. I have the taste of almonds from your lips in my mouth. Our worlds have never gone outside. Only one mountain can know the core of another mountain.
Your presence floats for a moment or two as if wrapping my whole being in an anxious wait for the morning. I notice that I’m with you. At that instant still full of sensations, my hands are sunk in oranges, and my body feels surrounded by your arms.
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For my Diego
the silent life giver of worlds, what is most important is the nonillusion. morning breaks, the friendly reds, the big blues, hands full of leaves, noisy birds, fingers in the hair, pigeons’ nests a rare understanding of human struggle simplicity of the senseless song the folly of the wind in my heart = don’t let them rhyme girl = sweet xocolatl [chocolate] of ancient Mexico, storm in the blood that comes in through the mouth — convulsion, omen, laughter and sheer teeth needles of pearl, for some gift on a seventh of July, I ask for it, I get it, I sing, sang, I’ll sing from now on our magic — love.
Frida Kahlo’s Passionate Hand-Written Love Letters to Diego Rivera
I happily await the exit and I hope to never return again.
Frida Kahlo
www.fridakahlodiario.com/thediary
I had something in my throat. It felt like I had swallowed the whole world.
010 Jan 10, 2008
I bought my Frida necklace LONG LONG ago, like 4 or so months if not more. I've been in love with her since I was introduced to her work in college back in the day. I remember when I found out that her and Tina Modotti were aquainted, how awesome is that?
I totally adore the charms but not the length of the chain. It's just way too long. Rachel and I were talking just yesterday about the style of necklaces I like. I prefer mine to be right about the length shown. Anything else doesn't go with my wardrobe style.
On top of my necklace making all kinds of jingly sounds, she got quit a bit of attention too. I had people poking out of their cubes to see what all the commotion was. Maybe I can trim the chain with some wire cutters to a shorter length so I don't have to wear it wrapped around me three times. LOL!
Oh yea. I hate my washer.
"Pinto autorretratos por que estoy mucho tiempo sola y por que soy el motivo que mejor conozco" Frida Kahlo
Very fine woven version of Frida Kahlo's "Self Portrait With Monkeys" by Bulmaro Perez from Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca
Book cover of Frida Kahlo : Little People, Big Dreams published by Lincoln Children's Books.
Sydney, Australia
Thanks to Whitney Lake for the recommendation on this one: www.flickr.com/groups/americanphotographer/discuss/721577...
This is the promotional postcard for a "surprise party" we held in honor of Frida Kahlo's 100th birth year in 2007. The Free Community Festival in April 2007 was in conjunction with 'Frida Kahlo: Images of an Icon,' which was on view from February 3 through June 10, 2007
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Museum - Replica from Casa Azu in Kunst Museum Gehrke-Remund in Baden-Baden.
Frida Kahlo (July 6, 1907 – July 13, 1954) born Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón was an internationally popular Mexican painter. She painted using vibrant colors in a style that was influenced by indigenous cultures of Mexico and European influences including Realism, Symbolism, and Surrealism ...
... more in Wikipedia: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frida_Kahlo
Kunst Museum Gehrke - Remund: www.kunstmuseum-gehrke-remund.de/
Frida Kahlo in YouTube: www.youtube.com/watch?v=nE-UjfdIGEY
"I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling."
Frida Kahlo
Another wondeful mural in Sante Fe by muralist Sebastian “Vela” Velazquez.
Frida Kahlo is an artist I greatly admire.