“These things arrived from my grandmothers[…] They make me think about where I fit in this odd geometry of time.”
Francesca Woodman, In Some Disordered Interior Geometries, Notebook
“This action that I foresee has nothing to do with melodrama. It is that life as lived by me now is a series of exceptions … I was (am?) not unique but special. This is why I was an artist … I was inventing a language for people to see the everyday things that I also see … and show them something different … Nothing to do with not being able “to take it” in the big city or w/ self doubt or because my heart is gone. And not to teach people a lesson. Simply the other side.“
Francesca Woodman Last journal entry before she took her life
I feel like I am floating in plasma
I need a teacher or a lover
I need someone to risk being involved with me.
I am so vain
and I am so masochistic.
How can they coexist?