A few years ago, I visited Tate Modern and, somewhere in the permanent collection, there was a corridor connecting two galleries which was hung with several small photographs by a photographer who had committed suicide at a young age in 1981. They were beautiful, and I was strangely moved. I then left and completely forgot her name. Several months later I visited again. They were still there, and this time I committed her name to memory: Francesca Woodman. I do feel a real connection with her work, although much of it wouldn't get past the blip censors :)

Anyway, having not mentioned the weather, for once, this is a song for today.