Frida… A Self Portrait, the latest production by Pittsburgh Public Theater, arrived just in time to participate in the theater scene's apparent heightened interest in Kahlo. Vanessa Severo, the Brazilian-American author of the one-person play, also stars in it, offering a vibrant, deeply-felt portrayal of Kahlo.
Structured around a fictional conversation with a journalist visiting Kahlo in Mexico City near the end of her life, the play — under the direction of Joanie Schultz —recounts the artist's life story, from her childhood battle with polio through the events that shaped her life, including her turbulent relationship with fellow painter Diego Rivera. Severo pulled dialogue from Kahlo’s published diaries and public statements to depict one of the most influential artists of the 20th century.
The show relies on a clever device that allows Severo to inhabit, not only Kahlo but the various people in the artist's life. Clotheslines are draped with pieces of clothing that stand in for the various characters, including Kahlo's German father, Rivera, and an American radio announcer.
The clotheslines are situated inside an imposing structure, by scenic designer Jacqueline Penrod, on which the entire play takes place. The set resembles the architecture of Kahlo’s house and her four-poster bed, an allusion to the periods Kahlo spent bedridden while healing from surgeries and coping with her physical disabilities.
Kahlo’s pain and suffering are centerstage in this production, as Severo embodies the painter's physical and emotional anguish, and portrays how others observe it, all of which is heightened by Rachael Cady's hyper-saturated light design and Thomas Dixon's pulsating, warping sound design. The play is especially artful in its depiction of the calamitous bus accident that so injured Kahlo she would have over 30 surgeries in her lifetime in an attempt to repair its damage.
After the moment of impact, Severo herself becomes an onlooker and works to extricate Kahlo’s crushed body from beneath the (invisible) bus. From there, a yellow dress stands in for Kahlo, and is festooned with three long, red ribbons symbolizing her injuries. Severo then becomes a smug doctor, callously narrating the extent of Kahlo’s injuries and her prognosis to a gawking class of medical students.
Notably absent from the play is any engagement with Kahlo’s radical politics. Kahlo was a committed Communist and anti-imperialist for much of her life, and politics played a major role in her relationship with Rivera. Growing up during the Mexican Revolution, her worldview and her art are seen as being deeply influenced by that long and bloody struggle.
The depoliticized quality of Frida… A Self Portrait speaks to the impossibility of squeezing an entire life into an 80-minute performance, but also, symbolically, to the way Kahlo has been metabolized by U.S. consumer culture. People take from her life and her art what resonates with them and, it seems, project meaning onto her to serve their own purposes.
Looking through her posthumously-published personal diary, it’s clear Kahlo, or, at least, the historical record she left behind, carries depths of meaning inaccessible to probably anyone still alive today. And yet, so many people are sure they know her, sure they see themselves in her.
Relatedly, it may seem audacious for Severo to call the play Frida… A Self Portrait, considering that, while the dialogue does use Kahlo’s words, Kahlo is not the play’s author. After seeing the play, however, I feel this production’s nuance lies in the title’s ellipsis.
Severo is refreshingly straightforward about her stake in this story, as she weaves her own experiences with disability and identity into the exploration of Kahlo’s life. The moments when Severo steps out of the artifice to break the fourth wall affirm what Kahlo means to her, and acknowledge the tenuous and subjective nature of that connection. The structure of Severo’s play further acknowledges Kahlo’s unknowability and the carefully curated nature of her public perception, ending with reflections on the artist’s once-locked wardrobe, the contents of which were hidden from public view for 50 years following her death.
The play meditates on how, exactly, one sees oneself and the various forces that influenced her self-portraits, all of which are inextricably tied to her disability and solitude. In this way, is not just a portrait of Kahlo but of Severo and the Kahlo as seen by Severo, as well as a broader reflection on the self-portrait as a medium and the experiences that forge a self.
Frida… A Self Portrait. Continues through Sun., June 25. O'Reilly Theater. 621 Penn Ave., Downtown. $68-85. ppt.org/production
