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who seems to offer us a world bereft of beauty and to be telling us that any kind of beauty is old-fashioned and out of date.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