12 minutes ago
(Read my previous post if you’re confused). I wonder, if the tour had started at the end in Frida’s studio where her wheelchair is still standing and the desk, the work area and materials are as she left them)... if it had started at the place where her dying (and consequently, living) seemed most palpable and then concluded in the galleries bearing a shallow collection of Frida and co’s paintings + photographs (by Frida and of Frida), would the blue house have felt different to me?
As an aside, after I fell down a Frida Wikipedia hole (yes ladies, I check the sources, we all know anyone can edit the Wikipedia article), a thought struck me: the whole concept of La Casa Azul as a living museum of Frida’s life + the exorbitant ticket prices (three times more expensive than any other museum and clearly geared towards English language tourism) kinda goes against everything Frida stood for. I mean, she was pretty openly anti-imperialist, at times communist, at times socialist. Then this made me think: is it more important to honor a person’s wishes (even in death) or to preserve the past in any way one can? Would you want your house preserved and on display and monetized by the government?
Still... I really enjoyed the house and appreciated its preservation. I could’ve done without the mass amount of tourists, but the fantasy of being alone in a somehow perfectly preserved famous painter’s house that no one has discovered and figured out how to make money off of seems impossible. More importantly, however: by being able to go to Casa Azul, tourists or no, 1-hr line wait or no (yes, I’m not joking, we stood in line for an hour), I learned something. I was made privy to a profound human experience. I was moved. That, I believe, counts for everything. at La Casa Azul de Frida Kalho