Aztec King, Carnivals & Frida: How a Mexican Street Turned into My Personal Gallery
- Florcy Morisset
- May 17
- 3 min read
You ever buy a piece of art that felt like it chose you? That’s exactly what happened to me on a vibrant, chaotic, and music-blasting street in Mazatlán, Mexico.

Let’s back up. I was in Mexico there for Carnival. Yes—Mexico has a Carnival. And honey, when I say it was alive... I mean alive. Picture mariachi bands competing with DJs on trucks the size of small buildings, costumes dripping in sequins, and food that could shut you up mid-bite. I was there with a friend (who shall remain nameless) and let’s just say the trip turned into more than tequila and tacos. It was all about the art and the culture!

That’s when I stumbled on him. A sand-textured, fuchsia and turquoise Aztec King staring at me like he knew I would take him home. This piece wasn’t subtle—it was loud, regal, defiant. And it reminded me of the same royal boldness from my Haitian roots as the first Black republic. Just as the Aztec King embodies Indigenous power, I saw echoes of Jean Jacques Dessalines—the fearless lieutenant who led Haiti to become the first Black republic. His regal presence wasn’t draped in gold, but in strategy, vision, and an unshakable belief in freedom.

But the story doesn’t stop at the art. I can’t talk about Mexican art without paying homage to the OG queen of color and pain herself—Frida Kahlo. You think you’re bold? Frida changed her birthdate to match the Mexican Revolution. Frida Kahlo wasn’t just a painter—she was a living manifesto. Over her lifetime, she created around 200 works, many of which were self-portraits that explored pain, politics, and personal power. After surviving a near-fatal accident at 18, she turned her recovery into revolution—painting from her hospital bed with a mirror rigged above her.

Her first solo exhibition in Mexico wasn’t until 1953, just a year before she died, yet today, her legacy stretches globally, with her work housed in institutions like the Louvre—the first Mexican artist to be featured there. Frida was both muse and movement. She didn’t just paint beauty; she demanded we see it in suffering, in womanhood, in rebellion, and in every brushstroke of identity. Her art wasn’t just pretty—it was protest. It was identity. It was feminism in brush strokes.

And guess what? That same revolutionary, “don’t put me in a box” spirit is what I saw in this Aztec King painting. It’s about more than crowns. It’s about claiming space. It’s about using art to heal, to remember, and to flex your culture on the world stage.

So, I invite you to explore this piece on the Vivant Art Gallery site but also dive into Frida’s story. Because let’s be real… we all need a little more Frida energy in our lives.
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