I used to dream about Rene Descartes. When he said, I doubt therefore I am. He looked just like squirrel pizza.
by David Halliday
I used to dream about Rene Descartes. When he said, I doubt therefore I am. He looked just like squirrel pizza.
by David Halliday
This is how her life ended. She died and was to be cremated.
As the cries of her admirers filled the room, the sudden blast of heat from the open incinerator doors caused her body to bolt upright. Her hair, now on fire from the flames, blazed around her head like a halo. Frida’s lips seemed to break into a seductive grin just as the doors closed. Her last diary entry read: “I hope the end is joyful – and I hope never to return – Frida.”.
Her whole life was like that. She is known by her first name. Her notoriety stands on her unibrow as much as her volatile nature.
She was married to the famous Mexican muralist Diego Rivera.
She has had a movie made about her life.
watch?v=j5RteM-3utIhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5RteM-3utI
Her paintings have been described as surrealist. But I think they borrow more from collages. With their clash of symbols and the decentralization of her canvass.
She must have been quite a woman.
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