Baudelaire, Frida Kahlo, and Martin Scorsese

“Now convalescence is like a return towards childhood. The convalescent, like the child, is possessed in the highest degree of the faculty of keenly interesting himself in things, be they apparently of the most trivial” (Boudelaire, 795).

I enjoyed this week’s readings quite a bit, but I was most fascinated by Boudelaire’s concept of the artist being in a constant state of convalescence, in which the artist has a heightened perception of the world like that of a child’s first impressions. Although I think Boudelaire’s discussion of the artist as convalescent is mostly symbolic, the idea is intriguing when applied to artists who actually began their craft as a result of ill health. The first that comes to mind is Frida Kahlo, a Mexican painter who began painting seriously after being badly injured in a bus accident. (Julie Taymor’s Frida illustrates this moment brilliantly.) Bedridden in recovery, Kahlo began to paint to pass the boredom and, perhaps as a result of heightened senses of convalescence, produced some highly original paintings with bright, vivid colors. Because Kahlo was in ill health for the remainder of her life—several times bedridden during the worst episodes—it is arguable that Kahlo, for the remainder of her life, was in a constant state of convalescence, putting her in touch with the heightened perceptions in which she painted the trivial realities around her like that of a mature, “genius child”. In reaction to the surrealist label put upon her art at her first exhibition in France, Kahlo rejected the idea of surrealism and claimed she painted her own reality. Most of Kahlo’s paintings are highly personal self-portraits, with many images coming from the triviality of everyday life. (The example of Frida Kahlo is also interesting in regards to Virginia Woolf’s idea of the androgynous artist. Kahlo indulged in her androgyny, and even dressed as a male when going out on the town—highly controversial in the 1920s, especially in the Catholic, patriarchal society of Mexico.)

Another artist I think applies to Boudelaire’s idea of the convalescent is Martin Scorsese, who was a severe asthmatic as a child. As a result of ill health, Scorsese spent a good deal of time watching films (both at theaters and on television, where he was first exposed to Italian Neorealism), “drawing” his own films on paper at home. Spending most of his childhood in the safety of mundane activity, Scorsese became an astute observer, taking in the “trivialities” of daily life in New York City. Often convalescent in childhood, Scorsese drew upon these experiences when he became an artist. When Scorsese started directing films, he storyboarded every shot, an act much the same as when he “drew” his own films on paper as a child. Furthermore, daily city life is a common motif in several of his films, with city ambient sounds played on soundtracks, and with much attention devoted to simply filming street life itself. (When Scorsese made Taxi Driver, he shut down production until weather improved so he could film a scene against the backdrop of a window looking out onto the street). Scorsese’s method of filming in New York also leads to a discussion of Boudelaire’s idea of the flaneur, but I need to finish this blog, so I will discuss this later. (There are many parallels between Scorsese’s New York City films and the idea of the man in the crowd.) I was thinking about doing Scorsese and Boudelaire in my final blog, so if you have any thoughts about the subject, it would be appreciated. Thanks.

[ASIDE: Today is Martin Scorsese's 63rd Birthday. Happy Birthday, Marty!]

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