When they were married in 1929, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera seemed like opposites. He was 43, tall, and overweight. She was 22, slim, and already dealing with many of the health issues that would plague her entire life. He was a huge artistic success, famous both in and out of Mexico, wealthy and looking at the pinnacle of the art world. She was unsure of what life would bring, and while her family had some money from her father’s photography career, she herself was not in a strong financial position. He was formally educated as an artist. She learned to draw and paint from her sick bed, never intending to be a professional.

And yet, by the time of their deaths, hers in 1954 and his in 1957, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera would come to define Mexican art in the 20th century. This is their story, and the story of how to appreciate them while in Mexico City.

Diego Rivera was born in 1886 to a fairly wealthy family descended from conversos, Jews forced to convert to Catholicism in the 15th and 16th centuries but keeping their Judaism alive secretly. (Rivera would reference his “Jewishness” when explaining his love for the downtrodden as a reason for his getting involved in the Mexican Communist Party.) His art education began young, with his enrollment in the National School of Fine Arts (also known as the Academy of San Carlos) in Mexico City at the age of 10.

His success was also quick to follow, due in no small part to his family connections. He moved to Europe to continue his studies, spending several years in Paris experimenting with cubism alongside Pablo Picasso. But his true art would come with his return to Mexico in 1921.

In 1922, Diego Rivera painted his first mural, called Creation, at Mexico City’s National Preparatory School. Its acclaim would lead to his next mural commission, this for a series at the Secretariat of Public Education. That was followed by murals at the National School of Agriculture, and at Cortes Palace. By 1927, the year he met Frida Kahlo, Rivera was probably the most celebrated Mexican artist living.

Frida Kahlo was born in 1907 in Coyoacan, Mexico City. Like Rivera, Frida was also influenced by her ancestry, with her mother’s side being mestiza, mixed descent between European and native (in her case Purepecha). Her early life was defined, however, by health setbacks. She had polio at the age of six, leading to her right leg being shorter and thinner than her left. At 18, she was on a bus that was hit by a train. An iron handrail impaled her through the pelvis, and while she would – obviously – survive, that injury and the others sustained in the accident would leave her bedridden for months.

It was during these periods of health issues that Frida Kahlo began to paint. Her mother mounted a mirror on the underside of Frida’s bed covering, so that the bedridden girl could look up at herself, and begin what would be a long obsession with self portraits. Likewise she had a mirror mounted over an easel that her wheelchair could access. But painting was not a vocation; it was rather something to do to focus on something other than pain.

In 1927, she joined the Mexican Communist Party, and there met Diego. The two were married in August of 1929.

In that same year, 1929, the Mexican government hired Diego Rivera to paint his most ambitious mural yet. This project, one that would fill a huge central stairwell at Mexico City’s National Palace (the seat of the Mexican executive branch to this day) was to trace the entire history of the country. Rivera accepted, and would spend the next six years on this work.

The History of Mexico, as the monumental work is appropriately named, portrays characters and scenes from 1521 (the Spanish conquest) through 1930. It takes up three walls, with the central span being the largest, and combines historical accuracy, some creative liberty reflecting Rivera’s communist leanings, and the artist’s own personal life (such as Frida being included in one area). To say it is awe-inspiring is to not do it justice, as the scale and ambition of such a project is well beyond that.

Visiting the National Palace is an essential part of a trip to Mexico City, for lovers of art and of history. Admission is free, but is restricted to guided tours, with hourly slots in both Spanish and English given out beginning at 10am each day and advance reservations impossible. (The first English tour is at 1030am, with tours lasting roughly one hour.) Lining up earlier is suggested, especially if one has a group. Note: you will be required to follow some fairly strict rules for security purposes, as this is still the home and office of Mexico’s President, including having to show your passport (you may have to leave it with security for the duration of your tour), check all backpacks and purses, walk in a specific order single file through checkpoints, and have photography not allowed in various portions of the complex. All of these are enforced by military and security presences, so best to follow the rules.

The building itself is magnificent. Originally built by Hernan Cortes himself in 1522, it has undergone significant expansion and renovation in the centuries since, and now occupies one entire side of the Zocalo, Mexico City’s main square. Tours trace that history, and then move to the Rivera murals (both The History of Mexico and a subsequent series of pre-colonial historical murals he painted following).

While Diego Rivera works are all over Mexico City, these are the pinnacle, in my opinion, and the painting of them filled the artist’s prime. Beginning with the central stairwell, one can appreciate how complex the work is. Themes run from side to side, with dates from bottom to top. So tour guides will – quite literally – walk visitors through the whole of Mexican history through 1930 via Rivera’s paint, with major battles, events, personages, and even ideas depicted.

It is not possible for photos to do justice to something so large and so complex, but suffice to say that if you are looking for anyone or anything through 400 years of Mexican history, it is there, and some things (like Benito Juarez) more than once.

Roughly half of the second floor of the National Palace is taken by Diego Rivera murals. These works are smaller, although still huge by art standards, and depict pre-colonial history, culture, agriculture, and trade via Mexico’s various indigenous peoples.

Originally, Rivera’s contract called for him to do more than double the number of historical murals as he actually completed, but he stopped following his painting showing the conquest of the Aztecs by Hernan Cortez in 1521. This final mural depicts the conqueror almost as a monster, reflecting the artist’s personal views.

For those who wish to fully immerse in the works of Diego Rivera, a separate museum exists in Mexico City, as does the artist’s studio, neither of which I visited on this trip. I did, however, get to Mexico’s mighty (200,000 student strong) UNAM university, and a mosaic covering the entirety of a building. Though the construction of the mosaic was done by Juan O’Gorman, Rivera may have painted the design, which would have been one of his final projects. Construction took place from 1948 to 1956. (Note: while my guide and other guides at UNAM denoted Rivera’s participation in this project, I have not been able to verify it with subsequent research, so I have my doubts.)

All four sides of this library building are covered, with one large facade tracing the history of science and another depicting indigenous cosmology.

As for Frida Kahlo, she largely moved with her husband as his work took him across Mexico and the world, with various stints in the United States (like Detroit when Rivera painted an entire room at the Detroit Institute of Arts in 1933, between engagements at the National Palace). And she continued to paint, though her projects were simply for her own consumption.

It is Frida’s personal life that most defines her during the 1930s. A series of miscarriages stemming from her bus accident injuries would forever affect her, leading to an artistic obsession with symbols of fertility and child birthing. And her mestiza upbringing would add to a personal style that would come to define her outward appearance, with flowing native-style dresses that she found flattering to cover her scar-ridden body. (Many of those dresses are on display now at her home, Casa Azul.)

Frida and Diego would have their share of conflict. After moving back to Mexico City in 1934 and living in adjoining – but separate – houses, the couple divorced in 1939, only to remarry the following year. (During this period, the couple also had a famous houseguest in Leon Trotsky, who was actually assassinated while living in Coyoacan in 1940.) Frida painted two clocks that are said to mark the time of their divorce and second marriage, both of which are on display at Casa Azul, her primary residence.

Throughout the 1940s, Frida lived at her childhood home in Coyoacan, which she had painted blue, hence its name of Casa Azul. (Diego also had a room here, though he maintained other residences.) The house contains her studio, her bedrooms (one for daytime and one for the nights, as she was mainly stuck at home due to health concerns by this point), and a large garden. And while her artistic fame would never be truly realized until after her death, one of the largest collections of her works is on display here at what is now a museum.

Like the National Palace, visits to Casa Azul are controlled for crowd size, although timed entries can – and indeed must – be pre-booked online. The tour used to include an audio guide, but it seems my 2025 visit was during a time between that guide and an in-the-works online tour using Spotify. Hence, signage as of this writing is poor, and additional research must be done for context.

In a visit that will take between one and two hours depending on pace, there are a few highlights. The first and most obvious one is Frida Kahlo’s studio, which is apparently exactly how it appeared as of her death, with the only exception being the addition of protective glass over the unfinished work on her easel.

The second is the house itself, a vibrant blue paint mixing with the green of plant life and stone on the non-painted portion.

Finally, while some of the works on display are copies, some are true originals, like this painting of watermelons (one of her favorite still life topics) with her having added in the last year of her life the words “Viva la Vida,” celebrating life despite hers being one battle after another.

Frida Kahlo would die here at Casa Azul in 1954 after another round of health issues, including having her right leg amputated. But she would never stop painting, and even in those last few years she began to attain her own international fame independent of that of Diego, although she would sadly not live to see herself as a cultural and artistic icon.

Three years later, Diego Rivera would also die here in Mexico, following his younger wife and fellow artist into the great unknown.

Frida and Diego. Both personally and artistically, the two would define Mexican art of the 20th century, and even beyond. From Diego Rivera’s mighty historical murals to Frida Kahlo’s introspections about life, their art has transcended the canvas (and wall) to become universally celebrated around the world. And their personal relationship, political views, and life itself has also taken on a heavier meaning beyond their work. It is no wonder visitors to Mexico City make pilgrimages to see their works and experience their lives.

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