In Prisoner In Love, the flow is at once calm and exciting. It is similar to allowing one’s body to be carried downstream in a river safely with a bump on the body’s backside every once in a while to remind them of the rocks beneath the surface. Metaphors aside, I find the gift of Taka’s work in his mastery of the photographs and the free flow of images that are present. I am reminded of how image-makers look at images now after nearly three decades of the Internet. I am reminded of tremendous and sprawling mood boards, which in their methodology are not so far from the attempts of critical thinkers like Aby Warburg or other contemporary artists like Batia Suter to make sense of the world’s chaos through visual strategies. Perhaps other cultural or social associations may be drawn from the work. I do not want to lean too heavily into that, knowing next to nothing about Japanese culture, but one cannot help but think that the more ghostly images in the wake of 2011 may be part of the brew—just speculation. In any event, Taka is an incredibly gifted artist. When writing this, I have already ordered his next book, which is available as we speak. I will be curious to see what the follow-up looks like. In the meantime, Prisoner in Love has my highest recommendation.