Francesca Woodman was born (like me) in 1958. But she killed herself in 1981. She was 22. Her photographs were refused almost everywhere and today she's considered as a great artist. One more. Once again. Most of her pictures were self-portraits. It's true that there is a gap between the interesting shots I post sometimes and the artistic power of the pictures above. Here photography grabs some of our most terrible sensation of non-existence, of being nobody, and puts it in our face. We are ghosts and we'll finish as stuffed animal in a cabinet of curiosities.