This triptych is formed by three skate decks made of 7 ply grade A Canadian maple wood.
©2025 Banco de México Diego Rivera Frida Kahlo Museums Trust, Mexico, D.F. / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
Me and My Parrots (1941) is one of those self-portraits in which Frida Kahlo seems to say: “Yes, I have suffered, but look at me here—serene and majestic, surrounded by parrots like an exotic queen in her feathered court.” In this work, Frida appears with her characteristic direct and intense gaze, dressed in a simple white blouse that contrasts with the vibrant presence of the four parrots surrounding her. These birds, far from being mere tropical ornaments, seem to be extensions of her identity.
The parrots—two on her shoulders, one on her arm, and one perched on her chest—pose with an almost solemn stillness, as if aware they are part of a visual ritual. Frida, unflinching, holds them gently, as someone who has made nature a refuge and solitude a form of companionship.
The scene, though static, is full of life: there’s color, texture, and a sense of domesticated mystery. Frida doesn’t smile, but her eyes speak volumes. There is pride, weariness, but also a quiet strength that prevails.
Me and My Parrots is not just a portrait with animals; it’s a small allegory of independence and self-assertion. Because in Frida’s universe, even the parrots have something to say—and they say it with style.
