The Frida Kahlo portrait I’ve chosen today, she looks wan and exhausted The man in the portrait is her Doctor, and she is painting with her heart for a palette. It’s a reflection on the physical pain she went through, the process of healing through art.
With NaPo dragging on it suggests the importance of art, which is good to remember, when you write every day words start to feel cheap. Looking at this painting reminds me why art is important to me.
if you live in a room
cleaning it of detail with your eyes
you would wield the brush
Flicking white and cream, greying the shadows
she poured the room through pain
the meticulous rendering of floorboards
the spokes of a wheelchair’s wheel
she is voluptuous, the wheel’s gory mechanics
the only clue to what stillness she possessed
in her hand the brushes are stacked
like firewood, a hefty handful
that drip with healthy red
a static slice of heart, if only pain was so
malleable, learning paint, the way it congeals.