It was lit like an altar, hugged by a looming backdrop that felt less like scenery and more like memory. Before the first line, before the hush dropped, that box told me what I was in for.

Frida Kahlo: In Her Own Image isn’t a retrospective, it’s a reckoning. It doesn’t just show you who she was, it immerses you in how she moved through the world, how she sculpted her own mythology with fabric, metal, paint, and pain. She didn’t just create art, she was the art.