Frida & Diego

Frida Kahlo started to fascinate me at the time when the movie "Frida", about her life, was a big hit. Firstly because I found her paintings mesmerizing, secondly because I had a hard time comprehending why such a beautiful, passionate and talented young woman would put up with the likes of Diego Rivera. Ever seen a picture of the two of them together? There you are! Their unlikely union has been compared (by Frida's disapproving mother..) to that of an elephant and a dove...



Meanwhile, we've all moved on in a life and all have gained experiences that we didn't have before... Perhaps we could have don without some of them... Let me say that I now am more inclined to understand a love affair that seems destructive, but yet carries on in time. But still..
Visiting an exhibition at the wonderful Pera Museum in Istanbul on both of their works, underlined for me that Frida most certainly deserved a movie about her life. Over twenty years her senior, the number of painting he made over time (approximately 140 paintings and a similar amount of drawings) was far bigger than hers. Not in the least because Frida limited herself to the subject she knew she was expert at: herself.
Looking at the Gelman Collection (Jacques and Natasha Gelman were avid collectioners of Mexican art) the reverse could be concluded. Far more works by Frida Kahlo are on display than Rivera's. All of them depict a stage from Frida's life: from family ties and her prevailing love for Rivera via physical pain through the bus accident she was in at the age of 18 (and miraculously survived) to psychological pain caused by her inability to have children.





Looking at her paintings I couldn't help but admire her: all of them have her trademark, are clearly recognizable. Yes, she's a surrealist but yet it is so simple and clear what the works signify...
What I didn't know but learned at this wonderful exhibition is that in the last years of her life Frida didn't paint so much anymore. Her health problems caused her to be tied to the bed which inspired her to start drawing. This allowed her to easily work out fantasies in a spontaneous and direct manner. Also she started keeping a diary. Not a chronological one, but a depiction of her life at the time. The year before her death Frida was left devastated by the amputation of her foot, that had started to be gangrenous. It cause her to create the following:


The caption: Feet, why do I want them if I have wings to fly?

Frida's death transformed Diego Rivera, literally a monumental man into a sample of "sadness and physical detoriation". As being said, "behind every great man there is a great woman" and for Diego and Frida this certainly rang true: he died within three years after her.

Hamam - The Turkish Bath

What to do on a rainy day in Istanbul? Go to the Modern Art Museum! Topkapi Palace! Shopping in the Bazaar! But today was exceptionally dreary. In fact, it made not want to go away more than 100 meters from the house. And what did I spot within that distance from the house? A tiny little hamam that was also catering for women. Very low key and inexpensive as I'm not finding myself in a touristic area. So I decide that this place is where I'm going to spend my afternoon.
Upon entrance, this is pretty much what I see:


Only this place is tiny, like I said, and there's NO MEN in there. It's females only. All the ladies beckon me to come in and one of them explains me what the prices are. Ten lira for the hamam and another ten for keşe (washing) and massage. From previous visits I remember I have to keep my knickers on: first occasion I -unknowingly - walked in exposing myself and this was NOT appreciated.
An old lady takes me to the steam room where I'm left for a while with a plastic bowl. Immediately the heat is going to my head so I automatically start pouring luke warm water over myself. I observe these days it is allowed to expose one's privates: a couple of women are not wearing their underwear and nobody seems to mind at all. I'm surrounded by women who busy themselves with washing their hair, scrubbing one another's back, clipping their toe nails and chatting a lot! The ceiling is high so it sounds pretty loud..
When the old lady comes back in she invites me to lie down on the hot stone in the middle of the room. As soon as I'm on my back she starts to scrub my skin with a rough wash cloth. This is not for the tender hearted: she's rubbing so hard that the skin peels off in little black rolls. This is a quite familiar phenomenon for hamams: people usually can't believe they're that dirty, but usually they don't clean themselves that thoroughly... Front, back, legs and arms. After that, she washes all the dirt and grime away and I'm left by myself for a while again. She comes back asking the other women in the room for some shampoo; you're supposed to bring your own here which I haven't done. She makes me sit in front of her on the floor to wash my hair. This makes me laugh: back to the days where I was a very little girl with my gran! Than back on the hot stone again. Time for some soft washing. I like this bit, as they use lots and lots of foam. It is collected in a long, hollow washing cloth after which you disappear under it! I love the traditional product that is used, a soft green soap smelling of roses. I'm being washed and while some of my muscles are being squeezed. She leaves again and this time doesn't come back.. When I decide enough is enough - after all, how much heat can a person take? - I find her near the entrance. We're finished. Somehow disappointed about the massage, though I should be ashamed of myself: an old lady like that doing such labour in that temperature! Ofcourse I leave very clean and very relaxed.