La Frida Gioconda

“Lisa’s Eternal Smile
In Florence born, where rivers flow,
A merchant’s wife, her days did glow,
Yet, in her calm, an artist saw,
A muse to sketch, a truth to draw.

Leonardo’s hand, so deft, so wise,
Captured her gaze, her quiet sighs.
But more than flesh, her soul was laid,
In strokes of light and shadow’s shade.

A smile so faint, a secret near,
A whisper soft for hearts to hear.
Not joy alone, nor grief’s disguise,
But all of life within her eyes.

Through the years, she travelled, canvas-bound,
From palaces to foreign ground.
Her husband’s loss, her name erased,
Yet through her smile, the stars embraced.

Salai’s face, her breasts combined,
In nude rebirth, her form refined.
A muse for two, a lover’s art,
A blend of beauty, soul, and heart.

Theft and return, her fame grew vast,
A painting’s journey, a shadow cast.
Yet, in the Louvre, she does not rest,
For on the stars, she’s truly blessed.

With Leonardo, hand in hand,
They roam the skies, a timeless land.
He paints her still, as she once was,
Her smile unbroken, its eternal cause.

For Lisa lives, both here and there,
In every gaze, in whispered air.
A mystery vast, a truth so near—
A woman’s strength, forever clear.

Malmö, December 2024

In July, Frida had been in Malmö for almost a year and had already performed in three plays at the Nöjesteatern. By autumn, she was scheduled for a fourth. It was also seventy years since she had left Earth to journey to her star. The thirteenth of July held no special reason for her to celebrate. Time-travelers rarely have cause to commemorate their death dates, as they dislike speaking about death. Moreover, most perceive eternity as infinitely preferable to their time on Earth. Behind them, they leave pain and illness, and in eternity, they can live at any age of their choosing, free from the fear of death or other anxieties.

However, Frida chose to honour her short life on Earth—only forty-seven years—because of a celebrated event in the art world: the Frida Kahlo Retrospective. This retrospective, celebrating women's strength and resilience, uplifted and empowered all who experienced it. Frida's version of Klimt's ‘Woman with Fan’ was one of many important paintings.

It brought together all the paintings Frida had created after she had laid down her brush for the last time. Her life had been marked by severe health issues, and from 1953, she was bedridden following an amputation. However, this did not deter her from her passion for painting or even participating in political events; her bed was carried wherever she wished to go, a testament to her unwavering determination and courage. Her resilience in the face of adversity is a source of inspiration for all.

Frida embarked on an ambitious project that set her apart from other artists in eternity. She encountered creators from all eras and decided to paint extraordinary women from history with whom she identified. This unique project, with its fresh and innovative interpretations of historical art, was a testament to her creativity and the power of art to transcend time and space, sparking intrigue and appreciation among audiences. It remained unknown until the paintings were discovered recently—not by chance, but carefully orchestrated by Frida herself.

Thus, the paintings at Malmö’s Moderna Museet, including canvases and statues featuring Frida, reimagine well-known motifs but now incorporate her face and body. The entire collection was discovered in a hidden room behind a wall at Casa Azul, her home in the Coyoacán neighbourhood of Mexico City. Three dozen previously unknown paintings caused a global sensation and sparked intense debate, as their style did not match her known works. The international attention these paintings received underscored the exhibition's significance, making it a cultural event of global importance. The world was particularly captivated by Frida’s interpretation of Gustav Klimt’s Woman with a Fan.

Frida Kahlo shared with me her personal and spiritual reflection on this piece. I cannot recount the entire story except as part of a whimsical exhibition presentation. However, art experts summoned to study the collection were supported by notes Frida had left alongside the paintings. The handwriting was unmistakably hers, and the commentary was essential for understanding the purpose of the works and why she had hidden them. Simply put, the world of the 1950s was not ready for such messages—they had to wait for their time, and that time is now. I quote Frida’s own words:

This brings us to the next painting, where Frida shares her interpretation of Leonardo Da Vinci's Mona Lisa and Frida's version, La Frida Gioconda, another enigmatic woman—perhaps the most overanalyzed in art history.

Frida: “I’ve met La Gioconda, the woman with the mysterious smile in a painting never delivered to its commissioner, her husband. Lisa del Giocondo was an Italian noblewoman, and Leonardo fell in love with her. She was a mother of six and lived a comfortable, ordinary life. Too ordinary, one might say, because she felt trapped, and the love was mutual.”

Me: “And how about Leonardo?”

Frida: “In his fifties, Leonardo was fully preoccupied with designing intricate weapons for rulers, so painting was a side pursuit for him.”

Me: “That’s fascinating. But what about Lisa? Their relationship—was it romantic?”

Frida: “Not in the earthly sense. If we’re to believe Leonardo, their relationship was never consummated. He lived an almost asexual life, though not entirely. He wasn’t gay, as many assume, but bisexual. Even so, his real passion lay in art and inventions—obsessions that consumed him. Until Lisa came along.”

Me: “So Lisa changed him?”

Frida: “Yes, with Lisa by his side, he felt he could move mountains. That’s how he saw it. She became his muse, his anchor. That’s why her husband never got the painting. Leonardo wouldn’t sell it for any price. It travelled with him wherever his work took him, and only after his death did it pass to Andrea Salai.”

Me: “Salai? His apprentice?”

Frida: “And his lover. Salai kept the painting until he died in 1524. After that, it was sold to King Francis I of France. But it was never just a painting for Leonardo or Salai. It meant so much more.”

Me: “More than just art? What do you mean?”

Frida: “There are several versions of the Mona Lisa, at least three attributed to Leonardo. One of them is a whimsical nude version—a daring piece. People thought Salai had sketched it for years, but now we know Leonardo worked on it, too. This version shows a woman with notably strong arms, an exposed bust, and a smile that shamelessly invites intimacy.”

Me: “That sounds provocative.”

Frida: “It is, and much suggests that the face is Salai’s, paired with Lisa’s firm breasts. It’s a blend, merging the two most significant people in Leonardo’s life. The painting held personal meaning for both Leonardo and Salai, more than the world will ever fully understand.”

Me: “And the famous smile? Why does it captivate so many?”

Frida: “Because it’s not just a smile. Leonardo filled it with layers of meaning. Lisa’s smile is like a whisper from another world—a promise of something more we weren’t meant to understand fully. It even mirrors Leonardo’s mouth; they smile together, sharing a secret.”

Me: “A shared secret between artist and subject?”

Frida: “Exactly. That’s why the smile feels warm and cool, inviting yet distant. Leonardo wanted to show us that we can never fully know a person’s truth. Lisa’s smile is like life: sometimes joyful, sometimes sorrowful, but infinite and mysterious.”

Me: “So Lisa became eternal, her mystery forever preserved. But what happened to her after death? Do you know?”

Frida: “Oh yes. Lisa and Leonardo live together as a couple on a star. Everyone knows it in eternity. The painting hangs above their bed. The one in the Louvre? That’s a replica, painted by Leonardo himself when the original was lost for a time.”

Me: “A replica? Lost? Tell me more.”

Frida: “Like all Time-travellers, Lisa can assume any age or form she pleases. She often chooses to appear in her mid-twenties, as she looks in Leonardo’s painting—but with fixed teeth. Today, among the stars, she wouldn’t need to smile as she did in the painting to hide bad teeth. Archaeologists even suggest that her enigmatic smile might have been as simple as poor dental health.”

Me: “And the original painting? How was it lost?”

Frida: “The Italian decorator Vincenzo Peruggia stole it in 1911. He hid it for two years in a suitcase in his Paris apartment while the police chased thousands of false leads. Later, he smuggled it to Italy, hoping to claim a reward by returning it. Peruggia argued that the painting rightfully belonged to Italy and had been taken under false pretences.”

Me: “What happened then?”

Frida: “The painting was recovered and exhibited all over Italy. Public opinion demanded it remain in its homeland, but ultimately, it returned to the Louvre. Ironically, the theft made it the most famous painting in the world.”

Me: “Even though Leonardo painted better works?”

Frida: “Far better. As an artwork, Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring surpasses it. Lisa wasn’t exceptionally beautiful by either Renaissance or modern standards. What captivated Leonardo wasn’t her beauty but her resemblance to Andrea Salai.”

Me: “Salai again. So Leonardo was in love with them both?”

Frida: “Yes. Leonardo was bisexual and deeply in love with both Lisa and Salai. It’s no surprise their likenesses intertwined in his art.”

Me: “And now, they’re eternal together?”

Frida: “They live as a couple on their star. Leonardo even repainted Lisa from memory when the original was stolen. When he heard it had resurfaced in Florence, he acted quickly. Communication on Earth in 1913 was slow, but information travels faster than light through the wormholes of the universe. Before the police could secure the painting, Leonardo had already replaced it with the replica.”

Me: “No one noticed?”

Frida: “No earthly technique can detect what stardust creates. The original remains with Lisa and Leonardo.”

Me: “What do you think Leonardo wanted to say through the Mona Lisa?”

Frida: “That art can nearly capture life but never completely. Every brushstroke is a breath, a movement. Lisa’s calm posture, her quiet strength—they don’t shout, but they exist. She’s a woman who knows her worth and has nothing to prove. Leonardo honoured the enigma of womanhood: to be both individual and symbol, to carry infinite mysteries.”

Me: “Even her name carries meaning, doesn’t it?”

Frida: “Yes. ‘Mona’ is a polite address, like ‘My Lady.’ Her real name was Lisa Gherardini, but in the painting, she became something more—an eternal muse.”

Me: “Why did you, Frida, choose to paint her?”

Frida: “Because she shows us that an ordinary woman, living an ordinary life, can possess extraordinary strength. She captivated Leonardo, as Marianne Ihlen captivated Leonard Cohen. Women like them remind us: you can’t call someone average just because they live.”

Me: “And now, she lives among the stars.”

Frida: “Yes, whispering her eternal enigma to those who dare to listen.”