Man with a knife (part 2)

The marriage collection is silly and innocuous, or so it seems. A friend said they reminded her of Punch and Judy dolls and she’s right; he is playing puppeteer. But just as the mask collection carries poignant duality, these marriage frames are also hardly one dimensional.

Stezaker’s patience and precision first to find the two faces and then to seamlessly align lips, eyebrows, chins, hairlines is noteworthy. He has said that before he cuts into the portraits he feels like a surgeon. What a deft simile it is. Both use scalpels. Both alter. But while a surgeon aims at leaving no traces of incision, the scar is vital to the artist. It’s a sinister jarring and awkwardness which gives these their eerie shots such appeal.

Whether or not you find his work as intriguing as I do, don’t tell me you didn’t look twice.

Man with a knife (part 1)

I get his name muddled with French prez Sarkozy, but rather than marrying (ex) supermodels, John Stezaker prefers to slice and carve up their glamour shots and then transplant landscape postcards to represent their brains, eyes, and lungs.

He operates in various ways. His work is founded on the acute juxtaposition of man and woman, human and nature, place and nothingness.




The old mask collection is disturbing gruesome at first glance. It appears like the people posing for the camera have been shot in the face at point blank by Javier Bardem from No Country for Old Men. Yet the gaping holes where one expects to see brain matter and remnants of skull instead reveal cascading waterfalls from a fantasy lands, cool dark caves, and archaic bridges from the French countryside. Here, Stezaker’s ability to jolt emotion from horror to beauty is awesome.









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Don't call this woman. Listen to her music.

Our taste in music may not match yours, but don't stress this minor deet. In fact, be grateful, because we’re about to shovel heaps of obscure, zany artists and deejays down your modem so that when you’re lost and lonely at the party and the iPod is free, you can take over and raise hairs with new trax that none of the chaps or lassies know about. 

Birds might shriek and cry a bit because they wanted "Sex on Fire" or "California Girls", and bros will say your shit is ghey and Euro, but just stick with your guns and trust us Fine Young Casuals to take you up a notch.

Even if the entire party breaks out in uproar over your weird, indie tunes, we say that any attention is good attention so just bob your head a bit and get into your own wee groove. Chances are there is some fit emo chick creeping in the corner rolling cigs who has noticed your alternative persuasion and will invite you for a smoke outside so that you can talk about Camus, alt music (we can be your bluffer's guide), and eventually hook.

That’s what music is all about anyway really, getting some ____ .