increasingly difficult to contact, barricaded as we are behind electronic equipment and
confined to air conditioned high-rise buildings.
John Casado is among those artists who are dealing with this modern dilemma and he
offers interesting solutions. His work is not despairing. It does not air the "pimples and
all" visions of a Nan Goldin. A modern view that suggests that life is filled with the lost
and lank of hair and the best plan is to get used to it. Nor does Casado have the utilitarian
eye of a wolfgangs Tillmans, who seems to offer us a world bereft of beauty and to be
telling us that any kind of beauty is old-fashioned and out of date.
The Casado camera gives us images of the human body that makes us look at it as though
we have not been given a complete chance before. This is not photography inspired by
painting or sculpture. This is photography by someone who has really looked at the
human form and found new ways to represent it. His pictures of a female body draped
upon a low table forces us to see arrangements of sinew and muscle, bone and skin in a
very abstract way. These are not positions that are sensually or sexually enticing. They
do not recall forms of the body at work or play, sleeping or engaged in sports. Casado
somehow manages to slip around these sources. Perhaps he has shot photographs of