12 May 2011

Woodman doc

I took a few classes from her father, who remains one of the best instructors I ever had. Rumors circulated about his daughter's suicide and her photographs, then mostly unknown.
It was, even then, the worst fate you could imagine for a parent. For someone, like him, who owned a refinement far beyond my peasant nature, it must have been excrutiatingly horrible (not that it's the sort of tragedy that requires sensitivity to feel). In many ways, his sensibility shaped hers. She had already taken it past him by the time she was in art school, and I think, leading to echos in his own photography later.
For him, too, there was a Persephone/Euridice element to the story that may have ruined a life and haunts me now.

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