The Favorite Frida

The Suicide of Dorothy Hale

I got in a conversation about Frida Kahlo a few days ago. Turns out I'm not the only one who thinks she's a killer costume. Two of my friends are planning on going as her this year (without having seen my blog.) Also turns out, even after decades and movies and all the rest of it that have happened since her lifetime, she's still overpowered by her husband, Diego Rivera's reputation.

The above painting, "The Suicide of Dorothy Hale" is my favorite Frida, yet most mentions of it are met with blank stares from my pals. The last time I broached it, the "New York" in this work was re-routed to a conversation about Diego's infamous 1933 Rockefellar Center mural debacle. Since most art fans (or Selma Hayek fans for that matter) know about the Riveras and communism, etc., I'm not rehashing it here. The story of a painting that somehow missed out on becoming a macabre, yet legendary, tale of American high society and woe is much more fascinating anyway.

Dorothy Hale

Dorothy Hale was an American socialite of the 1920s and 30s, who, after becoming widowed, spent the last several years of her life struggling with her place. She had extremely wealthy and powerful friends (and lovers), including the JP Morgans and members of the Roosevelt administration. She was beautiful and dreamed of being an actress, though sadly her talent was not as massive as her ambition. Perhaps more sadly, it was also further unbalanced against the successes of her good girlfriends Clare Booth Luce and Kahlo herself.

In 1938, Dorothy threw an informal "farewell dinner party", then went to the theater, then to a club with a large group of friends. She told everyone she was leaving, keeping specifics vague. She returned home around 1:15 am, wrote various suicide notes until dawn, and threw herself out the 16th floor window.

Luce, the editor, diplomat, wife of Time and Vanity Fair publisher, socialite, etc etc, was devasted by the loss of her good friend and almost immediately commissioned Kahlo to paint her portrait.

As you see above, a portrait wasn't exactly what she ended up with. Kahlo went as far as to smear "blood spatter" on the frame itself. Luce was horrified and refused to accept the painting, disregarding both her friendship and fandom of Kahlo. She commissioned the famous sculptor Isamu Noguchi to remove mention of her name from the work (Kahlo had written a little narrative regarding the whole scenario) and then had the painting hidden away for decades.

Eventually, she annonymously donated to the Phoenix Art Museum, where it still resides. I hear it frequently tours, though, and would love to see it in person one day.

Clare Luce Booth

For followers of Kahlo's work, "The Suicide of Dorothy Hale" is a vast departure from the angry or depressed self-portraiture often depicting Kahlo as ill, masculine, or broken. She sees flaws in herself and exaggerates them onto the canvas for all of us to admonish and admire. She's in vibrant, bright-yet-dark hues and often costumed and adorned with jewels or flowers. 

Here, the Kahlo face is gone, but not the attitude. Hale is in her fine evening gown. Blood runs from underneath her but her dress and face are still beautiful and unbroken. The colors are lighter and brighter, with heavenly clouds that take on an angelic or bird-like presence. Unlike Kahlo's representation of herself, however, Hale is deceaded, morte, no more. Perhaps that's why (to me) it stands so far to the left of everything else in Kahlo's canon: it's prettier in its depiction of someone else's utter defeat and thus, it's rare presentation of Kahlo's strength of self, almost to the point of gloating.