Referring to this last point the following quotation from Jacques Derrida really stroke me when I read it. Derrida's words seem perfectly correspond to one of the most recurrent aspects of Frida's art: to let the outside show the inside eliminating phisical barriers such as skin, to exhibit outside the inside of her life.
"... from the invisible inside, where I could neither see nor want the very
thing that I have always been scared to have revealed on the scanner, by
analysis - radiology, echography, endocrinology, hematology - a crural vein
expelled my blood outside that I thought beautiful once stored in that
bottle under a label that I doubted could avoid confusion or
misappropriation of the vintage, leaving me nothing more to do, the inside
of my life exhibiting itself outside, expressing itself before my eyes,
absolved without a gesture, dare I say of writing if I compare the pen to a
syringe, and I always dream of a pen that would be a syringe, a suction
point rather than that very hard weapon with which one must inscribe,
incise, choose, calculate, take ink before filtering the inscribable,
playing the keyboard on the screen, whereas here, once the vein has been
found, no more toil, no responsibility, no risk of bad taste or violence,
the blood delivers itself all alone, the inside gives itself up and you can
do as you like with it, it's me but I'm no longer there, for nothing, for
nobody, diagnose the worst..."
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Fragments of bodies are spread everywhere: mere brains in magazines and tech ads, heads in S/W logos, hearts in Benetton's ads...