Artists who arrive fully formed at a young age always dazzle, and Francesca Woodman was one of the most gifted and dazzling artist prodigies in recent history. In 1972, the 13-year-old Woodman made a black-and-white photograph of herself sitting at the far end of a sofa in her home in Boulder, Colorado. Her face is obscured by her hair, light radiates from an unseen source behind her out at the viewer through her right hand. This photograph typifies much of what would characterize Woodman's work to a semi-obscured female form merging with or flailing against a somewhat bare and often dilapidated interior. In an oeuvre of around 800 photographs made in just nine years, Woodman performed her own body against the textures of wallpaper, door frame, baths and couches, radically extending the Surrealist photography of Man Ray, Hans Bellmer and Claude Cahun and creating a mood and language all her own. In the 30 years since her untimely death, Woodman has gained a following among successive generations of artists and photographers, a testament to her work's undeniable immediacy and enduring appeal Amid a renewed intensification of interest in Francesca Woodman, this volume is published for a major touring exhibition of her photographs and films at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and the Guggenheim. Containing many previously unpublished photographs, it is the definitive Francesca Woodman monograph. Francesca Woodman (1958-1981) was born in Denver, Colorado, to the well-known artists George and Betty Woodman. In 1975 she attended the Rhode Island School of Design, and in 1979 she moved to New York, to attempt to build a career in photography. In 1981, at the age of 22, she committed suicide.
I'll admit I was a bit under-whelmed by this, my first serious exposure to Woodman's work. I suppose her obsessive, and dramatic, self-depictions were probably influential to the likes of Cindy Sherman, who I greatly admire, and who has herself gone on to influence myriad, particularly female, photographers. But I don't mind saying that I find Sherman's work significantly more discursively dynamic than what I saw of Woodman's- which is gothically alluring, but, I found, repetitive and one-dimensional. Certainly, she demonstrated a mastery of light and focus, and there were some memorable images, such as "Polka dots," the cover image of the book. But I would have to say that, in my opinion, she showed great talent and promise before her tragic suicide at the age of only 23, than a truly exceptional oeuvre.
A fascinating retrospective of a promising young artist who died all too soon - and yet, in only 22 years, she managed to become an undeniably huge influence on the gothic aesthetic as a whole. For a woman who barely made it out of art school, Woodman evinces a strong, distinct artistic vision from day one. Her work, like most interesting art, has just enough of a skeleton of intent to raise unanswerable questions and support a whole world of interpretations to this day. It's quite difficult to get through this book without wondering what she could have been had she survived. Without doubt, she'd still occupy this interesting niche somewhere between Cindy Sherman and Joel-Peter Witkin, but to see how much more she could've fleshed out these ideas is a tantalizing impossibility.
I always get emotional looking at a body of work from an artist who not only died young, but by their own hand. You can see limitless potential. It's a sad realization that they could not see that in their own life. That being said, Francesca Woodman is a master at showing brazen, haunting depictions of woman in their truest forms in bleak settings. The intimate photographs are captivating and eerie, some showing raw power and emotion, other shots feel like the subject is trapped in an invisible cage. Woodman's legacy is still ongoing, something I wish she could've seen herself.
I am not a fan of Francesca’s work but I am captivated, shocked, and moved by it. Beautiful and alarming. It is a real shame she left us too soon. A real d*mn shame to us all. This is a startling and striking collection all artists and art fans should check out.
Francesca Woodman created the blueprint for capturing a certain kind of sadness - which has gone on to inspire art/artists from Florence Welch (queen) to Suspiria. If you listen closely, you can still hear her in the sound of chairs dragging across the floor.
Woodman's work features a combination of the physical form with contrasting environments like dilapidated buildings or personal living spaces. They're dark and segmented and her composition is great.
This book features her photographs and series divided into four different locations: Rhode Island (75-78), Italy (77-78), New Hampshire (80), and New York (80-81). Since this book was published in conjunction with a newly curated show in SF MOMA, there is a feature in the back of all of the pieces in the show. I was actually surprised that some of the pictures that were included in the show (and some of my favorites of hers) weren't actually put in the book except for those small thumbnails. For this reason, I think the selection of photographs could have been better and more selective to show her "best work" but overall this was a good collection.
If these photographs create a place far too mysterious to enter with words, how will you never ignore them? (The academic language of "essays," with exception made for Keller's contribution, which at least discusses technique, butts up against the deep limitations of research, institutions, and writing.)
Your private journals? Your own performance, skin against glass? As an angel, or blurred in your own way, dealing with the omnipresent decrepitude of the physical world, as you will? The "forces" that you feel encompass all dichotomies, and all contradictions, because they must be approached another way.
A catalogue of an exhibition at SFMOMA, with three medium-length essays on the artist's work. I was introduced to Francesca Woodman through the highly-recommended documentary The Woodmans. As others have pointed out,while a few of Francesca's photographs are arguably masterpieces, most have a very experimental, work-in-progress feel to them. What is interesting about her is not her existing body of work, but the promise left unfulfilled by her tragic death, the hothouse environment in which she grew up, and the seriousness with which her and her parents pursued art as a way of life.
This is the catalog that accompanies the Francesca Woodman exhibition at SF MOMA, which we saw earlier this month. She was a remarkable, mysterious, and prolific talent. The show and this catalog include a number of her images I hadn't seen before.
Wow. And wow. I will never look at a picture the same way again after seeing Woodman's photos. It's the only photography monograph I've ever purchased for my own collection. There is a load of inspiration here.
As fotografias da Francesca, são belíssimas, extremamente tocantes e ao mesmo tempo tem alguma ternura incompreensível. Brutais e ao mesmo tempo elegantes.
Not so much a book as it is a collection of photographs. She was such a troubled soul but the images are absolutely beautiful in such an interesting way. Such a talent taken much too soon. Would definitely recommend to anyone interested in dark, emotional photography.