they were all alive, in severe pain, physically disabled, and mentally broken.
But they all draw nourishment from pain. Confess the pain of life in creation, but can live out the joy in creation in life.
In those days, their creative reputation may have originated from their husbands, but today, people are more and more remembered for their different brilliance.
Sometimes I don't know if I should envy a lunatic like them, their flawed lives are the brilliance of their art. A piece of news is the origin of Frida's creation of Unos Cuantos Piquetitos, a broadcast is also the inspiration for Sylvia Plath's poems, they are introspective, they are sensibilities, they are talents.
I hope that one day I can see her paintings with my own eyes, and feel the enthusiasm, pain, and tenacity of women, and feel the hope and despair of living, instead of drinking water from the poor little well of the computer.
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