February 6, 2025 – Philadelphia




What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante. This morning, I want to share some of my thoughts and ideas about why you should delete your Instagram.
You know, as a photographer, using Instagram is the equivalent of going to McDonald’s—pulling up to Burger King and ordering a Whopper, a Big Mac, fries, and a ten-piece chicken nugget.
I remember when I was younger, we had Cinnamelts.
Mmm, gooey, gooey cinnamon melts.
I couldn’t wait to get that in my tummy… and have diarrhea.
Instagram is the same thing. You consume all this sludge, all this junk, and what’s the outcome?
Diarrhea.
Splatter shit.

If you care about your craft, you don’t want to be consuming something that gives you diabetes, heartburn, or some sort of ailment. The same way you wouldn’t load your body with processed garbage, you shouldn’t load your mind with visual junk.
Delete your Instagram.
You wouldn’t keep junk food in your fridge if you’re serious about eating clean. Same thing here. Just remove it. Don’t even let it be in your line of sight.
Sure, you can technically just post and bounce. But why are you publishing your photos in the first place?
Ask yourself:
If it’s the first one, fine. Stick around on Instagram.
If it’s the second, get rid of the distraction.

Look at my fridge:
That’s it. No junk. No distractions. My fridge is set up for success.
Your visual diet should be the same.
Instagram tells you what a good photo is.
I don’t want that. I want to decide for myself.
I go straight to the source:
I study great photos. I analyze frames. I build a clean, high-quality visual palette.
This is the difference between eating clean and eating fast food.
This is the difference between training your eye and poisoning it with junk.
If you’re serious about sharing your photos, make a website.
Go to WordPress.org.
Use Bluehost.com.
Instagram is just a website. So make your own.
Think about it:
Yesterday, I posted my photos from February 5, 2025, on my blog.
They live on my own domain.
I don’t need some middleman or some algorithm dictating my visibility.
Instagram clogs your creative arteries.
It’s sludge. It’s processed garbage. It’s visual diabetes.
And once you’re infected with that glopalopolis sludge, you’re going to start shooting like everyone else.
This is not photography. This is addiction.
You don’t need it.
I don’t need it.
And I don’t think you need it either.
Remove the toxins. Unclog your arteries. Open your heart. Let the blood pump.
Be fueled by your own creativity—
not by some algorithm,
not by some fake dopamine rush,
but by producing real work and staying laser-focused.
That’s all I have to say.
Thanks for watching.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante this morning. I want to share with you why I love my iPad Pro for street photography. When it comes to archiving, selecting photos, and everyday use, I think the iPad Pro is the perfect tool for any street photographer out there.
As an artist, the iPad feels like this magical tablet where anything feels possible. You have a blank canvas to work with and carry everywhere, with practically unlimited storage by backing up photos to the cloud. Plus, there are so many different applications to make art.
Honestly, it’s just a fun experience that brings me more joy than sitting in front of a computer. Even with a standing desk and a good setup, I still prefer my iPad Pro. This is actually my first iPad Pro, and I’m excited to share my thoughts.
I have the iPad Pro M2 chip, 12.9 inches. I initially thought, bigger screen, bigger resolution, better photo viewing. But after daily use, I actually recommend the smaller 11-inch version.
So, if you’re considering an iPad Pro, go for the smaller version.
Even though I have a vertical mouse, mechanical keyboard, and an ergonomic setup, using a mouse and keyboard feels unnatural to me. The iPad Pro makes it so much easier to swipe through a contact sheet. It feels more like looking at physical prints—but digital.
“I can carry this device with me everywhere and engage with my work in a more intimate way.”
With Photos app integration, I can simply rotate my device horizontally or vertically to view my images in the best format.
When I finish a photo walk, I can immediately:
Since I shoot small JPEG files, the Photos app simplifies everything. But I also use Lightroom CC Cloud to access and edit RAW files seamlessly across all my devices.
If you’re shooting RAW, I highly suggest the Lightroom Cloud application. It keeps edits synced across your iPhone, iPad, and iMac.
One of the coolest things I do with my iPad Pro is use Procreate to remix my photos.
“The iPad Pro isn’t just a tool—it’s an endless creative playground.”
I don’t do this for any reason other than it’s fun. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Another thing I love about my iPad Pro is blogging. With IA Writer, I can:
“If I’m sitting at a desk under fluorescent lights, no thoughts come to me. But when I’m walking in sunlight, the words just flow.”
When I finish a post, I use ChatGPT to correct my grammar while keeping my voice intact. Then, I copy and paste the Markdown code directly into my blog.
With the Keynote app, I can easily:
I even use picture-in-picture recording to screen record my iPad while narrating with my DJI microphone.
“I can create high-quality video content—all directly from my iPad Pro.”
The real magic of the iPad Pro is that I can do everything in one place:
“I no longer need to slave away at a computer.”
And when I travel? I only carry:
That’s my ultimate setup.
Here’s something that might sound sacrilegious to photographers:
“Physical prints no longer interest me.”
With an iPad Pro’s backlit screen, I can experience my black-and-white, high-contrast images in a way that feels better than a print. Prints are old-school to me. Instead, I prefer:
And that’s another reason I say: delete your Instagram.
When I publish to Instagram, it lives on a closed platform. But when I publish to my own website, it’s mine forever.
“You don’t need a gallery. You are the publisher. You own your domain.”
I encourage every photographer to:
And just start publishing your work.
If you’re looking to simplify your workflow, the iPad Pro is a game-changer. Just remember:
For me, the iPad Pro has replaced my computer. It’s my primary photography tool, and I wouldn’t want to work any other way.
So, if you’re a photographer, you should seriously consider picking one up.
Thanks for reading. Now go delete your Instagram.
For instance-
A 76ers arena was supposed to be built on Market Street, inside the current fashion district mall in Philadelphia, which is dead, and losing the city money. Not only would this arena revitalize Market Street, and the surrounding neighborhood and shops, but the entire center city area as a whole. Now, the plan is no longer going through, Macy’s is shutting down, and many of the businesses are boarded up, empty, and abandoned all along the street.
Chinatown would’ve been booming, and more money would’ve flown into their local neighborhood. The locals celebrate, but it’s ultimately a mistake. The city will remain poor, the local businesses will remain dead, and the city is gonna have to pull a Hail Mary off to fix this critical problem.
So, why do people fear change?
Comfort is easy. Change is difficult.
Sometimes change is a necessity, despite the immediate strife it will cause. Through strife and the necessity of change, happiness and flourishing is the ultimate outcome. Through comfort and complacency, stagnation and mediocrity is the outcome.
Maybe people want to stay poor? Being mediocre and comfortable is easy.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante. This morning, I have a very simple message for all street photographers: the world is a stage.
And, you know, not only when we put together a frame are we utilizing the foreground, the middle ground, and the background to set a stage and use the world this way, but we, too, are active participants in the drama. As much as we’re photographing the actors and the drama of the street, we are active participants out there.
To me, the easy part of photography is:
But the difficult part is putting your mind, body, and spirit into the work. Being there and being present when you press the shutter.
“A photograph is not a composition; a photograph is a reflection of your heart, your courage, and your lust for life.”
I go out there with a joyous, childlike spirit, treating the world as my playground, the street as my canvas, and the street as my stage. This spirit of play reflects itself in my photography.

For example, one of my favorite images was taken in a Palestinian refugee camp in Jericho. A young boy was throwing a stone towards a rainbow over a dilapidated building.
There’s beauty in decay. There’s beauty in the stage. There’s beauty in the multifaceted complexities of life. And this is something I try to uplift in my photographs.
In this particular moment:
By positioning myself on the front lines of life, I came home with this photograph—one that reflects an optimistic, joyous, innocent, childlike spirit, looking over the horizon and gazing toward a hopeful future.
As photographers, we can set the stage and wait for the actors to arrive in our drama. I use places like:

By being observant and present, I position myself to create something dynamic and emotionally impactful.
“To put order to the chaos and spontaneity, position your body in relation to the scene and wait.”
The street offers an infinite number of scenes:
From a mother and son sharing a moment to children playing in the street, these small moments uplift the mundane and make them extraordinary.



Observing in locations like:
To me, the ultimate goal in life has nothing to do with success, fame, or fortune. My goal is simply to wake up and catch the sunrise each and every day.
Street photography offers more than just visual impact. It creates emotional impact. There is beauty and decay, harmony and chaos.
Approaching the world like a big playground, being open to what comes your way, allows you to come home with a gift.
“The gift of the photograph is the gift of the experience.”
By recognizing movement and fleeting moments, I can position myself to elevate the mundane to something extraordinary.
At the end of the day, a photograph is a reflection of:

Through my lens, I capture the resilience and beauty of people.
“You’re not just a bystander—you are an active participant in the drama of life.”
So go out there with a big kid spirit. Treat the world as your stage. The world is a canvas, and you have the power to tell these stories, to showcase humanity, and to uplift it to a new height.
No matter where I am in the world, no matter the weather, I have the ability to create something from nothing.
So I go out there each day:
The world is a stage, and I’m not just an observer—I’m on the front lines of life.
The world is filled with both joy and conflict. As photographers, we must embrace it all, uplift the beauty, and acknowledge the struggles.
Go out there and play. The world is a stage. The world is your canvas.
Thanks for reading.
If you wake up early, spend the entire time in the moment, outdoors, in fresh air, snapshotting your way through life-
The days feel long when you move your body along. When you’re on standby, time just flies by.
Through movement, creation, and the gift of the present, you exist outside the passage of time.
Also-
Everything you’ve done, said, created, photographed, and published is already in the past
Just treat everything you make in the spirit of play as a stream of becoming.

Photography isn’t just about photography. It has everything to do with how you interact with humanity. The more I engage with life—walking through markets, stepping into strangers’ homes, observing the mundane—the more my photographs come alive.
Every photograph I make is a product of being present, of seeing deeply. A scene isn’t just about the subject—it’s about everything. The backdrop, the play of light, the small, unnoticed details that add weight to the frame.
“Photography is about solving visual puzzles.”

I remember being invited into a home, walking up a narrow staircase, and standing on a small balcony. A girl played with her cat, a bicycle tire leaned against a wall, and a laundry pole extended into the sky. And then—there was the mosque in the background. All these small elements had to work together. The visual weight had to be balanced.
In Zambia, I walked through bustling markets, making only one frame of a man looking back at me.

“The eyes of the subject will be the thing that elevates the photograph.”
It’s all about tension—light and shadow, movement, chaos. The flicker of recognition in someone’s gaze makes an image breathe.
Street photography demands an ability to thrive in the ordinary.

These are visual puzzles waiting to be solved. The camera is just the tool that allows me to solve them.
Photography is an adventure. It’s about being there—whether it’s two weeks spent sleeping under a tent at a Seventh-day Adventist Church camp or riding a boat along the shores of Lake Bangweulu.

I remember the baptisms in Zambia. Hundreds of people gathered around the lake. I dropped my camera equipment on the shore, waded into the water, and pressed the shutter at the exact moment the preacher’s hand rose above the heads of those being baptized.
“It wasn’t until after two weeks that this scene unfolded.”
In Zambia, funeral culture is intimate. Even if you don’t know the deceased, it’s expected that you mourn with the family. I was invited to photograph a funeral. As a man collapsed to his knees in grief, I dropped low, framing his mourning against the movements of the men shoveling dirt in the background.

Light is everything. It can turn a flat moment into something cinematic.

“Light is out of our control, but if you’re patient, it will give you a gift.”

I once photographed a man playing with his pet snake. Only after developing the image did I notice his tattoo—a snake, coiling in the exact same way as the real one. Photography is full of these unexpected moments. You can sense the potential, but the camera often reveals what the eye cannot.
Some of my best images have come from revisiting the same locations, over and over again. The rooster man of Market Street. The skateboarders of Paine’s Park. The fishermen along the Schuylkill River.

“Repetition builds familiarity. Familiarity reveals patterns. Patterns lead to moments.”
In Mumbai, I stood outside a cramped street barbershop, photographing two men having their heads shaved. The scene was chaotic, but I found a way to simplify the frame—separating gestures, balancing figures against the background. The key is to isolate just enough to make order out of disorder.

There are two ways to approach street photography:
Both techniques work. The key is knowing when to use each.
In Mexico City, I climbed to the top of a mountain, finding a large statue of Jesus overlooking the valley. I knew I had to make a photograph of it—but I didn’t know how until I saw a construction worker lifting his arms, mirroring the outstretched arms of the statue.

“Patience and positioning make all the difference.”
My approach to photography remains simple:
Photography is not about photography. It’s about life. The camera is just the tool.
If you want to dive deeper into my process, check out my blog at dantesisofo.com. I’ve written about layering techniques, shared my contact sheets, and uploaded behind-the-scenes videos from my journeys.
“Photography fuels my lust for life. If I can share that with even one person, it’s all worth it.”
That’s the way to live—seeing life as play. When you treat everything as play, obstacles become puzzles, challenges turn into games, and mistakes are just part of the learning process. Play is the realm of children, but also of masters. The greatest artists, athletes, and thinkers approach their craft with a sense of playfulness.
Nietzsche speaks of the Übermensch as the child, the final stage of spiritual transformation—one who creates, laughs, and dances freely. Heraclitus says, Aion is a child at play, implying that even the cosmos moves with a playful rhythm.
To play means to be fully present. When photographing, let curiosity lead. When writing, let thoughts flow without constraint. When working out, enjoy the movement. In play, there is no resistance, only action. No stress, only engagement. No overthinking, only doing.
Seriousness stiffens the soul. Play frees it.