The first book in two years by the Kimura Ihei Award-winning Taiji Matsue. In contrast with the unpeopled aerial photographs of his previous book, the subject this time is human beings: people who unexpectedly entered the frame of the large-format camera. Each takes up no more than one two-hundredth of the area of a single negative, the smallest unit or cell, and is trimmed out and enlarged to fill a 45 cm square. A tiny red dot turns out to be a man lying on a red carpet, or people in swimsuits lying on vinyl sheets and towels on the roof of a small building, so that colours and situations appear one after another: images of ordinary daily life that carry a sense of unreality. With digital photography the levels at which data is recorded allow a complex matrix of information layers, and Matsue uses what he calls super trimming to excise one part of his photographs and constrain our attention to a certain square of information. The photo critic Minoru Shimizu writes that what we can see at present is only a small portion of the total potential visual data. There is an intentional avoidance of specificity: poses and gestures are discernible but the details of the faces remain just beyond identification. What results is a topology of humans and their environments, a moment to see ourselves as small specks, quite unaware that we are being watched from a distance. In lieu of page numbers, the title (or code) of each plate appears in minuscule type in the exact vertical centre of the image, subtly reinforcing the position and alignment of axes.