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An asymptote is a line that a curve gets closer and closer to but never actually touches.
In mathematics (especially graphs and calculus), it describes the behavior of a function as it approaches infinity or some boundary.
Simple idea
Imagine a curve that keeps approaching a line forever but never quite reaches it. That line is the asymptote.
Example
The function:y=x1
has two asymptotes:
Vertical asymptote: x=0
Horizontal asymptote: y=0
The graph gets infinitely close to these lines but never touches them.
Types of asymptotes
Horizontal asymptote – the function approaches a constant value as x goes to infinity.
Vertical asymptote – the function blows up toward infinity near a certain x-value.
Oblique (slant) asymptote – the function approaches a diagonal line.
Simple metaphor
Think of an asymptote like chasing perfection—you can get closer and closer forever, but never fully reach it.
If you’re curious, I can also show you why the word “asymptote” literally means “not falling together” in Greek, which is kind of beautiful philosophically.
Today I want to talk about light in photography, and look at some photographs recently made with the Ricoh GR IV monochrome. Later down in the slideshow, we’ll look at some photos made with the GR III. Everything was made with high-contrast black and white, small JPEG files, cranked to the max, point-and-shoot automatic mode.
Photography Is Drawing With Light
The thought about light is interesting.
When I think about photography—phos meaning light, graphe meaning writing or drawing—we’re drawing with light, we’re writing with light. And when I make a photograph, I’m merely curious about light.
I’m curious about the way that light goes through the lens and touches the sensor, and how an image is rendered in my camera at the end of the day. As much as I’m looking at reality in front of me, underlying all of that, I’m actually curious about how reality is interpreted through the camera—through the way that light refracts through the lens, touches the sensor, and creates the image.
I’m not only curious about life. I’m curious about how light interprets life through the camera.
Experimenting in Philadelphia
Recently, I’ve been experimenting and tinkering in the Reading Terminal Market here in my hometown, Philadelphia. I’ve been photographing at 1/4 of a second, using slow shutter speeds as a way to push the boundaries in my own personal practice.
By experimenting, tinkering, and trying new things, I remain more curious about life, and ultimately I keep practicing my photography daily.
It’s important for me to remain curious. My ultimate aim, my ultimate orientation, is to increase my curiosity by 1% each day.
Stripping Photography Down to Its Essence
By stripping the medium bare—to a Ricoh GR monochrome, automatic settings, point-and-shoot, pure instinct, light and shadow, high contrast—I’m becoming infinitely curious about how light is interpreted through my camera.
Ultimately, light is my underlying interest with photography.
As much as I am photographing life, my deeper curiosity lies in the way that light renders upon life, and how my camera interprets the world.
A More Prolific Way of Working
When I walk around and photograph, I’m photographing loosely. I’m photographing more prolifically than I ever have in my life since adopting this streamlined workflow.
Honestly, I’m finding infinite novelty in the world through photography and the way that my curiosity guides me. It has to do with the way that I’m seeing the world and interpreting life through the camera, and it has to do with my return to light.
When I throw my camera into a chaotic scene and photograph something, I’m not necessarily trying to photograph life as it is, but what it could be through my own personal, subjective interpretation of reality.
At the end of the day, I’m merely curious about how reality will manifest in a photograph.
Surprise in the Frame
When I’m photographing and tinkering, I like putting my camera up to a surface where I don’t know what I will find.
These days, I sometimes find myself photographing the reflections on cars. I think the reason why is because cars have these peculiar shapes, and when the light is bouncing across those surfaces, and you move your camera around them, there’s just a surprise in the frame.
And I think it’s really that surprise that keeps me out there photographing.
It’s the surprise in the frame that keeps me out there.
You Can Photograph Anywhere
A lot of the time, when you’re out there walking and observing life, it seems like people are just moving from point A to point B. There’s nothing to photograph. Maybe you’re walking around your hometown and don’t feel like you can find anything interesting. Maybe you live in a rural area and don’t feel yourself becoming more interested in the life around you.
But when I strip photography down to its essence, and I’m simply curious about light, it no longer matters where I’m located in the world.
It doesn’t matter if I’m in a small town or a bustling city. Ultimately, I can look up at the clouds in the sky and watch as the light peers through and touches my sensor. Then when I come home and look at the result, I have something. I’m curious about something there.
There’s something about the way I’m shooting these days that keeps me infinitely curious about the mundane.
Light Makes the Mundane Interesting
I’ll see a bus roll by on a seemingly boring day in my city, make a photograph in harsh light, and get a surprise back in the frame. I’m just curious about the way the light casts upon things, and how it etches shape and form into surfaces.
I’m snapshotting throughout the day. I’m almost like a human camera.
I ran into a street performer yesterday on the street—shout out to Red—and he was like, “Man, you’re a fiend. You’re always out here shooting.” And I’m like, “Yeah, I’m the most prolific photographer in the city.”
I’m literally like a human camera, marching through the streets every single day, just curious, in the spirit of play, wondering:
How is this going to look photographed?
How is that going to look photographed?
That’s what I’m doing.
I’m not hunting for a banger picture, a decisive moment, or something the street photography community will appreciate in my frames. I’m curious about the way that light renders upon my sensor.
Light Is What Guides Me
That’s really what keeps me out there—this insatiable lust for light, and of course my love for life. But really, it’s light that guides me.
Whether it’s a cloudy day, a sunny day, harsh light, or golden light, I find that the way light casts upon the world creates infinite possibility through photography.
And that’s the essence of the medium. It’s light itself.
You think about a painter using paint, or somebody drawing with charcoal. We use light.
That’s why photography is so infinitely fascinating to me. We work in embodied reality, out there in the physical world, using light as our medium. And at the end of the day, we don’t necessarily have to state a fact in the frames we make. We have the ability to interpret the world subjectively.
How Will Life Look Photographed?
When I’m out there photographing, I’m not trying to make a great photograph. I’m simply curious about how life looks photographed.
And so I encourage you to think more critically about the way that you can use light as a way to remain curious about life.
That’s my underlying curiosity these days:
How will life look photographed? How will light be interpreted by the sensor on my camera?
And so yeah, those are my thoughts for the day.
Thank you for watching, and I’ll see you in the next one.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about this notion of Kleos—fame, the ancient Greek idea, the pursuit of glory. I think it’s normal to find yourself striving and seeking and wishing to achieve greatness in this life of ours. We all have that inner divine force that guides us to move in the morning.
Although, I suppose going forward, we may reach a point where the majority of the population just enjoys the yummy foods, the Uber Eats, the Netflix, the social media, and sits back and consumes instead of pursuing anything, given the world of abundance that we are currently living in and moving towards.
And so when I consider fame, I think about the temporary nature and the transient nature of life. And so, when it comes to the day that you die, will you be seeking and striving to be admired by your peers while you’re gone? Or will you recognize that your body will soon become biodegradable organic matter and the flame within you has ultimately come to its end?
And so then the thought is:
Why pursue fame, worldly renown, and your name to be remembered?
Self-Deprivation
There’s certainly a reason why ancient traditions, spiritual schools, and religions promote fasting.
When you’re fasted, with no food, let’s say for 72 hours, and you’re in a forest, and there’s no food around you, and you have no shelter—at that point, when you’re deprived of the basic needs to survive, where is it that you’re going to be grasping?
Are you going to just try to find some more acorns and scrounge? I suppose so. We can scrape and dig and seek and search for the nourishment that our body needs.
But I think that ultimately, when in that deprived state of being, the only place that you will look is within.
And within you find the flame.
And so from that deprived state, alone in a forest with no food or shelter—let’s say weeks go by—and it is inevitable that you’re going to die. Are you going to simply wallow and realistically succumb to the mind, that you are merely a biodegradable flesh suit that will and must die?
Or will you have the conviction and affirmation that you are divine, and that the inner spark of flame within you doesn’t die?
Freedom
So once you have that knowledge, you are no longer a slave to the world.
You no longer give a fuck whether or not your name is remembered.
Because the only fame we’re seeking is from God.
And so maybe the only war worth fighting, the only opponent truly worthy of waking up and wrestling every morning, is God.
Currently walking around Philadelphia with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome, thinking today about the zen of the Ricoh Mono.
You kind of realize when you go through all the different cameras and choices you have that if you’re looking for the most compact, easy point-and-shoot camera to always have with you, it’s inevitable that you wind up with Ricoh.
There’s really no other options. No other choices.
And so the ultimate creative freedom is removing decisions.
The zen of Ricoh is that it strips away all choice and leaves you with a black box with a shutter button and a lens.
That’s it.
All you’re left with is pure instinct.
Stripping Photography Down to Its Essence
With a streamlined workflow, shooting with a monochrome sensor strips the camera down to the essence of the medium.
Photo meaning light. Graphé meaning drawing.
Drawing with light.
Even the decision between color and black-and-white disappears when you shoot with a monochrome sensor.
And I think the Ricoh Monochrome fits perfectly within the philosophy of the Ricoh ecosystem.
It simplifies everything.
The simpler you make things, the better.
Photography doesn’t get in the way of my everyday life.
Photography is simply a joy.
Photography as a Visual Diary
When you treat photography too seriously — wiping the lens down, going out looking to make a powerful visual story, trying to make impactful images — honestly it just becomes boring.
Photography starts to feel like a chore.
My ethos is simple:
Live your everyday life and bring the camera for the ride.
The photographs I make are simply a visual diary of my day.
I’m out walking. The weather’s nice. I’m commuting.
I’m not trying to photograph anything.
I’m just living my life.
The Closest Thing to Not Having a Camera
The Ricoh slips in your pocket.
It’s the closest thing to not having a camera at all.
You can literally conceal it in your hand.
And that’s exactly what I want.
I just exist in the world, and when a moment comes, I’m ready.
I don’t have to search.
I don’t have to try.
I simply let life flow toward me.
The Pinnacle of Simplicity
It really feels like we’ve arrived at the pinnacle of photography.
You can’t really simplify it any more than this.
Small JPEG files are incredibly liberating.
All the processing is done in-camera.
A 4MB file imports instantly. Uploading is effortless. Everything is frictionless.
Because of that:
Zero decision fatigue
Zero hesitation
Zero friction
And that’s why photography fits perfectly into my everyday life.
My Simple Ricoh Setup
Right now I’m in Rittenhouse, Philadelphia, going for a stroll.
My setup is extremely simple:
Snap focus at 2 meters
f/8
Aperture Priority (AV mode)
Multi-segment metering
If I want more dramatic images, I’ll just underexpose using the exposure compensation dial.
Usually:
−0.3
−0.7
−1
Over time you become fluid with it.
You don’t think.
You just feel it.
Handling the Camera on the Street
My grip is simple.
Sometimes I’ll hold:
Thumb underneath the camera
Middle finger on the shutter
This lets me hold the camera very loosely.
Then I can flick my wrist slightly to move between horizontal and vertical frames instantly.
If someone approaches from the right, I can flick into vertical.
If someone approaches from the left, I can drop my hand and shoot vertically with a subtle motion.
You can even use a claw grip:
Thumb on the side of the camera, index finger on the shutter, allowing you to make stealthy photos.
All these movements are micro-movements.
Almost invisible.
Embracing Imperfection
If I see a subject with bright clothing and strong contrast, I might underexpose by −0.7 to make the frame darker and more dramatic.
But honestly, I don’t obsess over exposure.
There’s something beautiful about imperfection.
Overexposure. Underexposure. Contrast that’s a little rough.
Those imperfections often feel aesthetically powerful.
Flow State and Instinct
Once you remove all the technical thinking, something interesting happens.
The flow state emerges.
From the flow state, your instinct appears.
And with time and consistency, your instinct compounds.
That’s where your authentic expression comes from.
That’s where your style comes from.
Your style isn’t born from aesthetic decisions.
I believe style is instinctual.
But instinct requires time.
You have to spend time responding to your instinct for it to reveal itself.
Simplifying the Process to Find Your Style
The fastest way to access instinct is to simplify the process.
Strip everything down to its bare bones.
That’s my entire workflow.
All I’m left with is my response to life.
The camera is just along for the ride.
Seeing Everything
When I walk around, I’m scanning everything.
Not just eye level.
I’m looking:
Above me
Below me
At reflections in windows
At textures on walls
At discarded objects
At architecture
At puddles and reflections
At gestures and faces
Everything becomes interesting when you approach photography with a blank canvas mindset.
You stop trying.
You forget what you think you know about photography.
And you move through the world with sensitivity and curiosity.
Quantity Reveals Quality
My goal is to remain open and curious.
I don’t take the photographs too seriously.
Because the more photos I make, the more I can come back later and extract the quality.
From the quantity emerges the meaning.
Then I can decide:
What matters
What’s worth keeping
What becomes a memory
Creating a New World
Street photographers often chase fleeting moments.
Photojournalists document events.
But my interest is a little different.
Yes, I’m interested in people and moments.
But underneath all that, my deeper goal is:
To create a new world.
To extract something from reality and give birth to my own version of it.
Photography Is Subjective
There is no objectivity in photography.
No universal definition of good or bad.
What matters is your subjective interpretation of the world.
Follow your curiosity.
Follow the inner child that just wants to play.
Ignore what’s been done before.
Ignore what people say photography should be.
Affirming Life With Photography
Photography becomes a way of saying yes to life.
Not dwelling on photos from yesterday.
Not worrying about what you’ll photograph tomorrow.
Just being present right now when the shutter clicks.
That’s why I love photography.
And that’s why I love the Ricoh.
Because it removes everything unnecessary and leaves you with the only thing that really matters:
Today we’re going to be looking at some photographs I made recently with my Ricoh GR4 Monochrome. We’ll be diving into the photos and looking at the camera in its everyday practical function on the streets.
And yeah — just diving into it.
The Zen of the Ricoh
Firstly, I want to discuss the camera itself.
I find that this may just be the most innovative, interesting camera ever created since the conception of photography. I think about Niepce inventing this thing with chemistry. I think about Atget lugging around a big wooden bellows camera with a rectilinear lens on a tripod in 19th century Paris.
And I just think… what would he do with a compact point-and-shoot that you can carry around with you?
Not to mention the built-in image stabilization that allows you to basically be a human tripod. You can shoot in low light. You can shoot with 25,600 ISO straight out of the box.
One of the most surprising things I noticed was that when you get the camera, the minimum ISO is set to 160 and the maximum is set to 25,600.
And I was just like:
What?
That’s the first time that’s ever happened to me when looking into camera settings.
But the reason the Ricoh is so special is because it strips away all of the superfluous technical aspects of photography. What you arrive at is simply a black box with a shutter button.
That is the Ricoh.
You could argue that every camera is a black box with a shutter button. But I believe the Ricoh simplifies everything down to the bare bones.
If you’re looking for the smallest, most compact, simplest camera to use every day — it’s inevitable that you land on Ricoh.
And there’s a kind of zen to that.
The zen of Ricoh is subtraction.
When you subtract more, you arrive at the essence of the medium.
My High-Contrast JPEG Workflow
With my workflow, I’m shooting small JPEG files with high-contrast black and white.
I crank the contrast and all of the settings within the camera to the absolute maximum.
My setup is simple:
Aperture priority mode
f/8 or f/16
Snap focus at 1 meter or 2 meters
High contrast monochrome
Automatic settings
Processing baked into the file
From the moment I slip the camera into my front right pocket to the moment I come home and cull the photos — the result is already there.
The process is baked into the file.
This kind of approach gets photography to the point where it becomes effortless.
And the flow state becomes inevitable when you’re using a compact camera that simply doesn’t get in the way.
I find this camera to be the closest thing to not having a camera.
And that’s where I want to be on the street — just bobbing and weaving through crowds endlessly.
The Power of One Camera
Coming from the Ricoh GR III to the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome, the camera is slightly smaller and more compact. The exposure compensation dial has shifted, and I’m actually starting to enjoy it.
Nothing drastic has changed.
But I do notice that the processing with my high-contrast workflow looks aesthetically more beautiful. There’s a bit more shadow detail and a small boost in quality.
But honestly — those things don’t concern me.
I shoot small JPEG files.
What matters more is the simplicity.
By stripping away color entirely and committing to a monochrome sensor, I’m reminded of the power of limitation.
One camera. One lens. One processing style.
Run with it.
And that’s why I’m a fan of the JPEG workflow.
Because it removes choices.
Returning to Pure Instinct
When you remove all the decisions — color or black and white, this lens or that lens, what camera to use — you arrive at pure instinct.
Photography returns to its essence:
Drawing with light.
When I make photographs, I’m creating an instant sketch of light.
By removing color and technical decisions, I can return to pure instinct at the moment I press the shutter.
When I’m photographing, I’m not thinking. I’m just being.
I’m not hunting with a checklist, a theme, a project, or a book.
I’m simply living my everyday life and bringing the camera along for the ride.
Photography becomes a visual diary of my day.
The Spirit of Play
Because the Ricoh is small and inconspicuous, I look like a tourist.
And that allows me to embrace the spirit of play.
Through play, I tap into a childlike curiosity.
I look at:
faces
gestures of hands
hair moving in the light
small details
From that state of childlike wonder, authentic expression begins to reveal itself in the photographs.
And that’s where style actually comes from.
Style isn’t about whether you shoot color or black and white.
Style is revealed from instinct.
Synthesizing Content and Form
When I made a photograph of hair blowing in the light on Canal Street in New York City, I noticed how the light was casting on the hair.
That alone intrigued me.
That was enough to raise the camera and press the shutter.
But the duty of the photographer is to synthesize content with form.
To put order to chaos.
So I physically move my body in relationship to the subject — positioning the hair with the facade of the garage in the background.
Those decisions are made instinctively through movement.
Not thinking.
Just responding.
Sketching with Light
As I walk through the streets, I’m constantly looking:
up at the clouds
down at the ground
at people
at objects blowing in the wind
Everything becomes a fleeting moment of intrigue.
By crushing shadows and exposing for highlights with high-contrast black and white, I create mystery and drama.
Sometimes I photograph clouds using:
a red filter
underexposing 1–2 stops
multi-segment metering
crop mode into 50mm
On the Ricoh, I have the video button set to crop mode. I tap it twice and instantly switch to 50mm.
This allows me to create more dramatic imagery.
Elevating the Ordinary
A moment in real life might be interesting.
But the goal of the photographer is to elevate that moment in the photograph.
To make it more powerful than it appeared in real life.
To uplift the ordinary into the extraordinary.
By underexposing, isolating faces, and capturing gestures in slivers of light within crowded scenes, I create a visual solution to the chaos of the street.
It becomes a form of visual problem solving.
Especially in a place like New York City where crowds are constant.
Infinite Novelty in the Mundane
Returning to black and white has allowed me to find infinite novelty in the mundane.
Because light is always changing.
It is always in flux.
For instance, I walk the same street in Philadelphia every single day and photograph the same sculpture of a revolutionary hero.
Every day.
But I remind myself:
You cannot make the same photograph twice.
Because the light is always changing.
And that gives photography an infinite game to play.
The Flow State of Photography
Through this simplified workflow, I reach a point where I forget that I’m even photographing.
The past doesn’t matter. The future doesn’t matter.
When I’m photographing, I exist outside the passage of time.
I’m just watching the light.
Watching people.
Responding to instinct.
Over time, with consistent daily practice, instinct compounds and reveals itself in the photographs.
Photography as a Way of Being
When I go out in the morning, I treat it like day one.
I’m not thinking about photos I made yesterday.
I’m not thinking about projects tomorrow.
I simply affirm:
My next photo is my best photo.
Photography becomes a way of saying yes to life.
Not a way to make great photos.
But a way to remain present.
To stay curious.
To stay sensitive to life.
Photography is a somatic experience.
You walk the streets. You feel the atmosphere. You hear the sounds. You smell the city.
All of your senses remain open.
And you respond.
The Best Camera Is the One That Disappears
To wrap things up:
The Ricoh is the closest thing to not having a camera.
And that’s why I believe it’s the best camera.
Because it doesn’t get in the way of living your everyday life.
Photography stops being work.
It stops being a chore.
You’re simply living your life and bringing the camera along for the ride.
No longer striving.
No longer hunting.
Just living.
And responding to whatever you find.
And that’s why I enjoy photography — and specifically the philosophy of the Ricoh.
