The term ‘iconic’ has been chronically overused in recent years. It has churned through the chatter of social-media discourse, forsaking its original associations with veneration and exceptional stature, to become a descriptor for something as asinine as a fashionable haircut or a matcha latte. This dilution could be seen as a cultural lodestar for Tate Modern’s newest exhibition, Frida Kahlo: The Making of an Icon, which celebrates the legacy of one of the most famed faces in all of art history (and surely the most fêted woman to have defined her own visage). The Mexican artist codified a language built around her meticulously crafted image, which extended beyond the canvas to embody every aspect of her life. In photographs and videos, and among her copious correspondence and collecting habits – which are evident within the blue-drenched walls of the Casa Azul in Mexico City and the hordes of indigenous artefacts housed at the Museo Anahuacalli (WoI July 2025) – she defined an intoxicating form of mexicanidad, for which she became a living, breathing embodiment.
One of the problems with creating such an indelible image is that it must move far beyond the creator’s control. Surely Kahlo, a Communist mestiza whose oeuvre tackles topics including disability, miscarriage, infidelity and colonialism, would not expect to one day be emblazoned on everything from tote bags to cushion covers. This ‘Fridamania’, as co-curator Tobias Ostrander describes it, is impossible to ignore. ‘The commercialisation of her image is part of its cultural and historical mapping, of understanding how she became one of the most recognisable artists in the world, and the only brown woman to be part of a pantheon that includes Picasso and Warhol,’ he says. ‘In fact, her image transcends her art, and has become a symbol of resilience on a par with Che Guevara or Malcolm X.’
Whether such renown solidifies or sublimates her original intentions remains debatable, but much work has been done to trace her potent influence on other artists, including those who have directly lifted her motifs. These include Tracey Emin (shot by Mary McCartney), whose own major retrospective overlaps at Tate, and Yasumasa Morimura, a Japanese artist celebrated across Asia for his uncanny self-portraits that reconfigure the iconography of art history. Most vital is the inclusion of a host of younger individuals grappling with the adoration and commodification of their predecessor, including Martine Gutierrez, Camila Fontenele de Miranda and Rafael Amorim.
Critics have noted that this show will include fewer works by Kahlo than Tate’s previous survey in 2005, and will not feature several pieces that were exhibited in its first iteration at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Much of this has to do with the veritable boom of the artist’s international popularity (demand for loans is high and collectors are less willing to lend), and circumstances beyond even the most influential institution’s control. Despite pleas, the Mexican government deemed it imperative that works by the country’s most famous artist return to home soil in time for the World Cup, so that fans of both football and Frida would not suffer disappointment. Such cultural transcendence is rare indeed. What truer mark of an icon could there be?
Frida Kahlo: The Making of an Icon Tate Modern, Bankside, London SE1 25 June–3 January. To book tickets and learn more visit tate.org.uk
A version of this article appears in the July 2026 issue of ‘The World of Interiors’. Learn about our subscription offers. Sign up for our bi-weekly newsletter, and be the first to receive exclusive stories like this one, direct to your inbox
