In this series of articles, i’d like to share some thoughts of my all time favourite photographers and  influences. For me Francesca Woodman is the most captivating and touching of them all.

Francesca Woodman’s photography is compelling and enigmatic beyond imagination. It is impactful, stunningly beautiful and captivating. It is the kind of work that I could return to over and over again and still find something new in it, as opposed to some bland and generic photography that cannot provide anything new after a quick glance. Francesca’s photography has resonance and depth that invites to return to it time after time.

Technically her work is perfect. I love the look and feel that she conveys; the textures, lighting, camera techniques, composition etc, but going beyond the surface level, her work full of ambiguity with layers of meaning. It is expressive and deep. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, which is perhaps why I always want to return to them for yet another look.

I lover her energy, fury and passion — the kind of art student drive that many creative minds can really relate to. She doesn’t appear to have mannerisms even though she uses similar kinds of techniques over and over again. Somehow it doesn’t turn against her in a form of tired repetition, but on the contrary enhancing the feeling of strong artistic voice, which is pretty much unmatched and something many artist can only dream of ever possessing. Bearing in mind that she was able to find her own voice and signature style in such a young age is stunning.

Her work communicates a certain kind of mood and feeling, in a way that isn’t immediately obvious or easy to explain. It is experimental but still spot on. She is known for her self portraits, many of them located in abandoned looking houses. She often poses nude without unnecessarily eroticising her work, while obscuring herself in different ways. Her choice to photograph herself is not merely a narcissistic endeavour. Instead, it serves as a means of exploring the complex relationship between identity, body, and space. Sometimes she seems to partly vanish to the wall or show only a vague part of herself, for example, as a reflection from a mirror, often utilising long shutter speeds, motion blur or unconventional compositions. Sometimes she’s there without actually being there. Sometimes her presence is strong, even if she shows only a glimpse of herself. These elements contribute to a sense of fragmentation, inviting viewers to contemplate the elusive nature of selfhood. Her images are dreamy, otherworldly and ethereal. Perhaps a bit ghostly too, introducing level of memento mori into her expression. Her unique approach to photograhy, marked by a blend of vulnerability and creativity, has been highly influential.

She is surrounded by a strong personal myth. She died in January 1981, at the age of 22, by taking her own life. I was born later that year on the other side of the world, but I’m still touched by the loss and trough her art, feeling strangely connected. Her suicide is usually the first things mentioned when reading articles about her and she is very often viewed through it, which is why I didn’t want to start this article by bringing it up, even though her story is tied to it so closely that it is hard to bypass. It’s almost impossible not to think about the link and motives between her haunting, introspective works and her death. They add an extra layer of complexity to her artistic legacy. I suppose it’s true what they say, true beauty always coexists with tragedy.