A searing exploration of young womanhood in a culture of being seen Inspired by an exhibit of vintage photographs by Francesca Woodman, whose work is often shocking in its exploration of a woman's relationship with her body in a misogynistic culture, The Body Taken combines the confessional, the ekphrastic, and the erasure of women's artistry. In a New York City gallery, Lisa Beech Hartz finds herself completely captivated and especially moved by how much the photographer's self-portraits resemble a sort of mash-up of the poet and her dearest friend in their late teens, writing: "Mirrored in girlhood / recollection / and all our fables — / all the frazzled strands / of stories / I can never braid / complete / for lack of you." These poems grieve the poet's deep youthful bond while also reflecting on each girl's family life and their shared experiences: adventurous trips into the New York of the late seventies from their suburban town; encounters with distant, heavy-drinking parents; various medical and emotional challenges; and navigating the rampant and casual misogyny of the time. Memories are punctuated with examinations and interpretations of Francesca Woodman's photographs, attempting to decipher what the artist captured about her experience of being a young woman and what it meant to live inside a young woman's body: "Francesca crouches / in her dotted dress seam- / split and gaping. Fingers / splayed across her face / she calculates her escape." The collection also includes erasures of critical responses to Woodman's work which are sometimes respectful, even reverential, and other times reinforce the fascination with her suicide and her sexuality. Using provocative imagery, this collection serves as a love letter to lost girlhood, exploring themes of identity, loss, and the female body in the world.

A searing exploration of young womanhood in a culture of being seen Inspired by an exhibit of vintage photographs by Francesca Woodman, whose work is often shocking in its exploration of a woman's relationship with her body in a misogynistic culture, The Body Taken combines the confessional, the ekphrastic, and the erasure of women's artistry. In a New York City gallery, Lisa Beech Hartz finds herself completely captivated and especially moved by how much the photographer's self-portraits resemble a sort of mash-up of the poet and her dearest friend in their late teens, writing: "Mirrored in girlhood / recollection / and all our fables — / all the frazzled strands / of stories / I can never braid / complete / for lack of you." These poems grieve the poet's deep youthful bond while also reflecting on each girl's family life and their shared experiences: adventurous trips into the New York of the late seventies from their suburban town; encounters with distant, heavy-drinking parents; various medical and emotional challenges; and navigating the rampant and casual misogyny of the time. Memories are punctuated with examinations and interpretations of Francesca Woodman's photographs, attempting to decipher what the artist captured about her experience of being a young woman and what it meant to live inside a young woman's body: "Francesca crouches / in her dotted dress seam- / split and gaping. Fingers / splayed across her face / she calculates her escape." The collection also includes erasures of critical responses to Woodman's work which are sometimes respectful, even reverential, and other times reinforce the fascination with her suicide and her sexuality. Using provocative imagery, this collection serves as a love letter to lost girlhood, exploring themes of identity, loss, and the female body in the world.