Understanding Diego Rivera requires understanding his almost mythic level of self-invention. He was, by every firsthand account, an inveterate fabulist. He routinely claimed to have engaged in cannibalism during his bohemian years in Paris, to have fought in battles he never attended, and to have orchestrated political actions that were pure fiction. Kahlo herself observed this trait with wry amusement, noting in her private journals that Diego did not lie to deceive; he lied because his creative imagination constantly outpaced reality.
This psychological trait explains much of his social success. Physically imposing, weighing close to 300 pounds, with protruding eyes and rumpled clothes, Rivera defied traditional standards of male elegance. Yet his charm was famously disarming. He was a polymath who could lecture effortlessly on pre-Columbian agricultural practices, European Renaissance fresco techniques, Marxist economic theory, and modern engineering. American industrial barons like Edsel Ford and John D. Rockefeller Jr. were as captivated by his conversation as the radical union workers in Mexico City. His magnetism lay in his intense intellectual presence; when Rivera focused on someone, he made them feel like the center of an epochal movement.
