From Angel Series, Rome 1977 - 1978

Editor: Here we have Francesca Woodman's gelatin silver print, "From Angel Series, Rome," created between 1977 and 1978. It’s mostly greyscale and, honestly, gives me the shivers a little. What's your initial take? Curator: Oh, it whispers secrets, doesn’t it? Woodman…she was a magician with light and shadow. The stark contrast, the peeling walls, and those impossibly placed legs – it all evokes a sense of fragile existence. It's as though she's questioning the boundaries between self and space, the tangible and intangible. Doesn't the very rawness of it pull you in, even against your will? What do you make of the negative space? Editor: It feels...oppressive? Like there's something hidden just out of view. Almost a little voyeuristic? Curator: Precisely. She positions *us* as the voyeurs, but of what? Of a space she clearly inhabited and manipulated to serve as her own canvas, right? It is her language. Note that this is no pretty picture, no perfect smile…What if that cracked floor IS the point? Editor: I never really considered it that way...So it's less about the *what* and more about the *where*? Curator: Well put! The cracked foundation and bare feet seem almost vulnerable and jarring, but you never know what treasures lie beneath the dust, eh? Now, how does that sit with you? Editor: I suppose, taking into account that interpretation, it’s empowering rather than unsettling... Curator: Exactly. It's like she's inviting us to reconsider beauty, identity, existence. Editor: This makes me think a lot about liminal spaces now. It gives a new perspective on looking at Woodman’s artworks. Thanks.