The Woman Who Painted Through Pain: Why Frida Still Matters

July 6th rolls around again, and I find myself thinking about birthdays - specifically, about a woman who would have turned 118 this year but somehow feels more alive than half the people scrolling through their phones on the tube this morning. Frida Kahlo died at 47, which seems impossibly young until you realise she crammed about seventeen lifetimes' worth of feelings into those years.

I've been staring at one of her self-portraits in our office - the one where she's surrounded by monkeys and parrots, looking directly at you with those eyes that seem to say, "Yes, life is ridiculous and painful and beautiful, and what exactly are you going to do about it?" It's the kind of gaze that makes you put down your coffee and actually think for a moment.

The Accident That Changed Everything

When Frida was eighteen, a bus accident shattered her body. Spine fractured, pelvis crushed, the works. They had to put her in a plaster cast for months, and her mother installed a mirror above her bed so she could see something other than the ceiling. That mirror became her first real canvas. Can you imagine? Lying there, broken, and deciding to paint yourself because that's literally all you can see.

Most of us can barely handle a bad hair day, and here was this teenager turning physical agony into art that still stops people in their tracks nearly a century later. She painted herself over and over - not because she was vain, but because she was the most available subject. "I paint my own reality," she said, and honestly, what a way to claim your life back from chaos.

What We're Celebrating

We've got a lovely collection of Frida-inspired pieces that capture fragments of her spirit without trying to cage it:

Our Frida Kahlo Collection

• Frida Kahlo Purple (Foiled Journals)

• Frida Kahlo Dark Pink (Foiled Journals)

• Frida Kahlo Midi Notebook Sets (3 pack collections)

• Frida Kahlo Standard Notebook Sets (3 pack collections)

• Adult Jigsaw Puzzle Frida Kahlo Pink (1000 pieces)

• Frida Kahlo: Life of an Icon Wall Calendar 2026

• Frida Kahlo: Life of an Icon Mini Wall Calendar 2026
  
  
• Frida Kahlo: Art Wall Calendar 2026
  
  
• For the Love of Frida 2026 Wall Calendar

• Frida Kahlo: Life of an Icon 2026 Luxury Pocket Diary Planner

• For the Love of Frida 2026 Weekly Planner Calendar

Each piece tries to hold some echo of her fierce tenderness - those flowers she wore like crowns, the way she made beauty inseparable from truth, her refusal to be diminished by suffering.

Twenty Years of Keeping Her Memory Alive

This year marks twenty years since the Frida Kahlo Corporation began building her brand, and honestly, they've gone all out. The celebrations feel massive - starting with a musical that premiered in Mexico City this January. A whole musical about Frida's life, complete with ‘visionary storytelling and music,' touring the world. I keep imagining her watching from somewhere, probably laughing at the spectacle while secretly being rather pleased that her story is being sung.

The immersive exhibition ‘Frida Kahlo: The Life of an Icon’ has been traveling the globe since 2021 - Singapore, Barcelona, Doha, Australia, New York, Montreal - and this year it was back in Mexico from February to April before heading to Thessaloniki in June. They're calling the next iteration ‘Beyond the Icon,’ which feels appropriate. How do you go beyond someone who already transcended every category you tried to put her in?

Tate Modern is preparing a major exhibition for June 2026 through January 2027. There's something beautifully ironic about formal museums celebrating a woman who painted in bed wearing traditional Tehuana dresses because they hid her medical corsets.

Madrid had the ‘Frida Woman Experience’ this March through May, Baden-Baden had ‘Frida My Secrets’ in April, and there was even a tribute opera in Leipzig called ‘Viva la Vida.’ The world seems determined to find new ways to tell her story, each venue promising their own interpretation of what made her so compelling.

What Gets Me About Her Story

What strikes me most about Frida isn't just her art - it's her absolute refusal to be a victim of her circumstances. Yes, she was in constant physical pain. Yes, her relationship with Diego Rivera was complicated and often heartbreaking. Yes, she miscarried several times and couldn't have the children she desperately wanted. But she never painted herself as pitiable.

She painted herself as she was: complex, fierce, vulnerable, political, sensual, angry, joyful - sometimes all in the same canvas. Her eyebrows became a statement of defiance against conventional beauty standards. Her traditional Mexican dress was both cultural pride and clever concealment of her medical supports. She transformed everything that was meant to diminish her into something that made her more herself.

Why She Still Matters

In our current moment of performative wellness and curated authenticity, there's something almost shocking about Frida's raw honesty. She didn't pretty up her pain or package her struggles into inspirational content. She painted blood when there was blood, tears when there were tears, and flowers when there were flowers - often all in the same frame.

She reminds us that being human isn't about achieving some perfect balance or overcoming our difficulties with grace. It's about showing up fully to whatever life hands you, even when - especially when - life hands you more than feels manageable.

So here we are, celebrating her birthday and this anniversary, trying to honour someone who resisted being turned into a symbol while somehow becoming the ultimate symbol of artistic courage. The irony wouldn't be lost on her.

¡Viva la Frida!

As these celebrations unfold across the world, from major museum exhibitions to schoolchildren learning to paint self-portraits, I keep thinking about that eighteen-year-old girl lying in bed with a mirror above her head. She couldn't have known she was beginning a conversation with the world that would last far beyond her lifetime.

Every time someone looks honestly at themselves - really looks, without flinching - they're continuing what Frida started in that hospital bed. Every time someone refuses to apologise for taking up space, every time someone makes art from their wounds, every time someone chooses authentic mess over polished perfection, they're living a little bit of her legacy.

Happy birthday, Frida. Thanks for showing us that broken doesn't mean finished, and that sometimes the most revolutionary thing you can do is simply refuse to disappear.