The Oath by  John Stezaker

The Oath 1978

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Dimensions: unconfirmed: 198 x 248 mm

Copyright: © John Stezaker | CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0 DEED, Photo: Tate

Editor: John Stezaker's collage, "The Oath," juxtaposes cinematic stills and classical ruins. The figures seem trapped, almost entombed, within these rigid spaces. What symbols are at play here? Curator: Note the contrast. The modern courtroom, a space of presumed justice, merges with ancient ruins, symbols of lost empires. The oath, a promise, becomes entwined with decay and failure. How does this discord resonate with contemporary anxieties about truth and power? Editor: It feels like a breakdown of established structures. Curator: Precisely. Stezaker unearths cultural memory, exposing the fragility of systems we often take for granted. A potent reminder that even oaths can crumble. Editor: So, images can become symbols of both continuity and collapse. Thanks!

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tate 11 months ago
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http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/stezaker-the-oath-t12341

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tate 11 months ago
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The Oath, like The Trial (T12342), is one of four collages in a group entitled The Trial that Stezaker created from a cache of film stills from a single 1950s film. Each collage consists of a black and white photograph altered by the addition of a postcard, which conceals a large part of the action depicted in the still, replacing it with an image of water. As in The Trial, the still used for The Oath is a scene in a French court room. Around the postcard, positioned in the upper centre of the still, the court is visible as a heavily panelled environment made up of wooden pews and partitions. In the foreground, on the right side, a smartly dressed woman stands at the dock, apparently about to take the oath of truthfulness required of all witnesses before they give evidence in court. Raised to head height, her right hand disappears into an image of ancient stone columns rising up the right side of the postcard. These are the foreground of a photograph of a ruined temple looking out onto the Mediterranean Sea, where rocks and small islands extend towards a landmass dimly visible on the horizon. The rising or setting sun silhouettes a row of five columns supporting a narrow pedestal of stone that extends back towards the columns on the right side of the image. The postcard scene is peaceful and idyllic – designed to advertise the location, it has become something of a tourist cliché. The calm blue water, the sun’s rays on the sea and its warm light on the weathered ancient stone speak of moments of stillness and elemental beginnings appropriate to the notion of the Mediterranean as the cradle of civilization and the origins of democratic justice. On the left side of the postcard, the columns lead to a group of three men standing behind a panelled wooden partition. The youngest of these has an unhappy expression, indicating that he is likely to be the accused. This is corroborated by the police officer’s French képi (cap) on the man behind him. An older man wearing glasses beside the accused is concentrating on something in his hands that is concealed behind the postcard. His professional appearance and proximity to the young man suggest that he may be a court official.