It’s rare that I get to watch Michael Casey work his (literal) magic in a place that’s well-lit; mostly we’re in bars and outdoors at night, but on Monday he thoughtfully stood directly under a streetlight and I got to shoot him blowing the minds of everybody on the Suburban Home Records tour plus a whole lot of bystanders. His stuff is crazy — I’m lucky to know him.
I hate the trick where he sticks the cards in his mouth, though. Inevitably he abandons them on a bar or a table somewhere, I walk in, see them, pick one up, and go, “Oh, Michael Casey’s here, look, cards — euuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.” Because I’ve just gotten a handful of slimy eight of spades.
brand new kind of photography 