 Tears stream from her eyes as nails puncture her skin, yet she elegantly drapes a white sheet around her hips.When described as a Surrealist, Kahlo chafed–stating she painted not from dreams or fantasies but from her own lived reality….For Kahlo, history was not an abstraction or a melodrama with a cast of thousands like her husband Diego Rivera’s epic murals, but something that happened to one’s own body, in one’s own domestic space….as actor and director in the drama of her own life, [Carucci] proves that revelatory art can be conjured from the narrow confines of our homes and found in the modest gestures that convey the visible form of our intentions.