Frida Kahlo didn’t become one of the most famous figures of the 20th century by chance. The popular image of the artist that persists in Barbie dolls and on coffee mugs was a carefully constructed avatar — proof, according to the costume designer Jon Bausor, that “she was a living work of art.”
The daughter of a successful commercial photographer, Kahlo had an awareness of the power of visuals from an early age: She chose clothing that concealed her disability but highlighted her heritage; she darkened her eyebrows, but refused to separate them. And whether posing for a photo or sitting for one of her many three-quarter view self-portraits, she was always, always aware of her angles.
“Everyone has a version of Frida in their head,” said Wilberth Gonzalez, who, along with Bausor, designed the costumes for “El Último Sueño de Frida y Diego” at the Metropolitan Opera. But too often, the men agreed, that image is informed by trickle-down kitsch: a dress in a meaningless selection of colors, or a braided hairstyle adorned with “a random bouquet.”
New York may be in the midst of one of its periodic flare-ups of Frida-mania — a new exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art features works by Kahlo and her husband, Diego Rivera — and frenzy can often lead to flattening, turning a complex artist into an icon, a vibe.