My husband presented me for Christmas with a book about the Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. I had seen her paintings on an exhibition in the National Gallery in Budapest already earlier. I started to read the book with great interest. Her scrambled life enchanted me, I read the book twice in succession. When I closed my eye, I saw Frida, her husband and her family. Her swirling life just called for a picture.

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The background was given, Casa Azul, the famous Blue House in Mexico City where she was born and where she died. There was a large orange tree in the backyard behind which she hid when she was a child. She loved animals, she had always parrots, monkeys around her. They are figured on my picture too. In her childhood she contracted polio, her right leg got deformed. When she was eighteen, she got into an accident, the bus, a red Ford, crashed into a tram. She survived but it was a miracle but her injuries caused her serious pains in all her life. She was operated many times, her doctors became to be a permanent part of her life. She wore showish jewelry persuading people to at them but not at her crippled body while she ornated her long hair with flowers. She married the famous Mexican painter Diego Rivera in her your ages. Rivera painted large sized paintings and murals figuring the past and the present pf the Mexican history. Both of them were communists but they confronted the Stalinists soon. They could not live without each other nevertheless they both had numerous extramarital relationships. They did not have children, Frida’s pregnancies all ended in miscarriage. She lived 47 years; her self-portraits became to be her most famous pieces.

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