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Janelle Despot
Oh Frida, where do I even start.
You inspired me at a very young age to be an artist.
I didn’t really understand what that meant then, and still don’t even really know —But i felt it, and still feel it.
You remind me of what’s true.
Thank you for showing us it’s Ok to feel. To feel strange, and beautiful. To create worlds that no one will ever understand.
You simply showed me how an artist can express all the conflicting, complicated emotions that are alive inside.
I am proud, and will always be proud to be an artist. Even when you don’t know where you’re going, and you’re moving forward by faith alone. Choosing the next step by what feels true, and truth alone. Your birthday is a good reminder to cherish my artist soul and feel my feet on the sand at the edge of reality.
Even though I have transformed a little, letting you in today and reflecting on what you’ve meant in my life feels like coming home. I see my little 8 year-old self wandering the halls of LACMA alone— at a huge solo show of your artwork with your huge bright paintings, haunting dark eyes, monkeys, colors and pain. I remember like it was yesterday. I wanted to scream and share and cry about all the things that were happening inside in the midst of my own defining childhood trauma— and you showed me a way to do that through art.
I fell into your story. What came first, the trauma or the art? Would my timeline have followed a similar pattern if I didn’t know of you and revere you? Did you give me the “art has to come from pain” story?
I don’t even care anymore, or try to figure it out. Sometimes when I think of where I am—creating and expressing from my inner power and truth—I think of us. I feel like I’m committing to my way, for all the little broken artists out there.
Thank you for being exactly who you were, and giving so much of yourself… those hard emotions to convey and process, so beautifully expressed on canvas. Thank you for being revolutionary.
Thank you for coming to me, and still come, when I need you.
