As with all good art, one keeps coming back to the singular, to particular images and moments. One moves from glistening images of food to a close-up of a kiss; from a snail crawling on the lips of a woman's vagina to wilting flowers, and then to a breast bound and squeezed with rope. The fact that some juxtapositions are alarming is part of the point. Here's a grid of portraits, from newly borns to 100-year-old matriarchs, all from one area of Tokyo and all photographed in a single day. For Araki, faces are the real private parts.