I can smell the sorrow on your breath

I have to confess I feel attracted to people who die tragically: Jeff Buckley, Carole Lombard and the list goes on. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a morbid interest in death. I am just filled with pitiful feelings for them. I am specially interested in those who commit suicide, the case of Francesca Woodman. It is impossible to look at her pics without questioning what was her vision of Life, and the depth of her Sorrow.

Francesca Woodman was, in my opinion, one of the most talented photographers of the twentieth century. She was born in Colorado, but her roots were Italian. The artistic atmosphere Francesca was raised in, was the perfect scenario to develop her skills. She did her first works at the early age of 13. When she was 17 she started her studies at the Rhode Island School of Design. Between 1977 and 1978, she spent a year in Rome, and after that she moved to New York. In 1981 her first collection of pictures (Some Disordered Interior Geometries) were published. At the age of 22 she killed herself by jumping from her New York studio.

She was the model for the biggest part of her works, in which her body and surroundings merged into one.

Chris Townsend compiled her works in a book, called Francesca Woodman. It seems really interesting.

"Francesca Woodman created her first photograph at thirteen and took her own life at age 22. She left behind a hauntingly beautiful legacy. Flailing, groveling, jumping, and hiding--often dissolving into a blur before the camera--she used her body as an actor in a mysterious drama. In less than a decade Woodman created a body of work that has secured her position as one of the most original American artists of the 1970s, and the first-ever child prodigy of photography."



Song: Grace - Jeff Buckley