Currently at the Southeast Asian Market here in FDR Park in Philadelphia, photographing with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome today.
Gonna be doing some street photography and just take you along on this little journey here through the park.
So yeah, follow along and let’s hit the market.
Meat on a Stick
Check out the meat on a stick. They got meat on a stick. Oh my goodness!
Yeah, could I have two beef sticks?
When I was in Hanoi, Vietnam, every night I would just eat beef sticks. That’s what I would do. They have street food around the lake. I would just get beef sticks all the time and just munch on those.
Have a good one. Cheers.
Yeah, check it out. The beef stick.
Oh, it’s so good.
Look for the Gestures
Little gesture.
Look for the gestures. Every time I see hands, I photograph them.
I don’t know. Every time I see hands, I photograph them.
But gotta eat my meat, you know.
Lots of photography being done today. Everyone’s just waiting.
Macro Mode and 50mm Crop
Yeah, so we’re just sitting here by this beautiful bench with this view of the lake, and a little butterfly landed on our hands.
I’ve been photographing with the crop mode at 50mm using macro mode on the Ricoh, and I get extremely close and make these kind of surreal, abstract pictures of the insect.
I think one of the most powerful things about the Ricoh is the use of the macro mode combined with crop mode.
So I go from 28mm to 50mm to get extremely close details of insects.
There’s just a power in noticing these small details, slowing down, and then focusing on those details with the macro function.
Just click the up button on the D-pad.
Experimenting With the Sony Handycam
I’ve recently been experimenting with video using this old-school Sony Handycam.
What I really like about it is that I can get extremely close with the zoom.
I enjoy photographing people, so when I do video, I like filming people. And it’s interesting to see the moments that I usually capture with a still image, but as a moving image.
It’s something I’ve been experimenting with.
I think it might be the 20x optical zoom, honestly. But whatever it is, you can get extremely close.
It’s got a Carl Zeiss lens, so it’s sharp, but it shoots in 480p.
But yeah, look, I can even get B-roll footage—or just footage in general—of the people watching and film the gestures and the facial expressions.
Handycam in the bag.
Remember to Look Up
Yeah, so another thing is when I’m photographing, I’m not only just looking at the people or the gestures or the textures.
You can look up and photograph the beautiful sky and the clouds.
I also use the red filter so that I can add more drama and contrast to the sky. The Ricoh Monochrome is really good for that.
I’m even cropping into 50mm.
I love looking at the macro details—insects, textures, people, everything on the ground level.
But I always remind myself to look up because there’s so much beauty above.
Welcome to Flux Weekly Witness #14, where I look at the photographs that you submit to me in the Flux community.
Today we’re looking at Yakuno Kalvinzal, whose photographs were made throughout Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany between March and June 2026.
I love the description they included with the work:
“Stop thinking about composition and press the damn shutter, my brothers and sisters. Much love goes out to all of y’all.”
I love that.
If you’d like to make a body of work like this yourself, click the link in the description to create your own Flux Issue. Build a zine from 36 photographs and submit it directly to me for review.
Letting Go
Right away we have this opening frame where the photographer appears in the background walking perfectly alongside the sidewalk.
It’s a playful introduction.
Considering the description, I’m curious how this idea of letting go and trusting instinct plays out throughout the rest of the work.
You can already see moments where there is some compositional awareness—using poles, gestures, and framing—but there are also photographs where everything becomes much more chaotic.
The blur.
The awkward placement of the subject.
The spontaneous framing.
You can feel someone responding instinctively rather than trying to construct a perfect composition.
Mystery Wins
These next two photographs immediately grabbed my attention.
The frame on the left is incredibly mysterious.
There’s a barefoot leg.
Someone bent over.
A milk carton.
And then, hidden in the background, what appears to be the shadow of a cat cast against the truck.
I absolutely love this photograph.
It’s strange.
It’s ambiguous.
It asks questions instead of answering them.
Beside it we have a beautiful photograph of cherry blossoms.
I always enjoy seeing nature mixed into bodies of street photography.
You don’t have to photograph only people.
When something beautiful pulls your attention, photograph it.
Preserve that beauty.
Looking From the Ground
This centered composition of the broken skateboard immediately caught my eye.
There’s something funny about it.
The worn skateboard.
The Velcro shoes.
Even the tree appearing to grow from the chimney creates this strange visual illusion.
Whether intentional or accidental, those spontaneous alignments are often what make photographs memorable.
Energy Through Movement
The skateboarding photographs have so much energy.
Fisheye perspective.
Fast movement.
Loose framing.
People gesturing.
Tricks happening mid-frame.
Everything feels immediate.
You can tell these weren’t overthought.
They were simply lived.
A Childlike Perspective
One of my favorite photographs in the entire body of work is this low-angle image looking through the fence with the dandelion in the foreground.
The fallen fence.
The clouds.
The sky.
It almost feels like seeing the world from the perspective of a child crawling through the grass.
I honestly don’t even know why this image resonates with me so much.
It just does.
Sometimes that’s enough.
Photography isn’t always logical.
Sometimes instinct is the explanation.
Adventure
Then we have someone climbing this tower.
I love this frame.
You immediately feel the sense of exploration.
Maybe they were simply out skateboarding with friends.
Maybe they wandered into this forgotten place.
Either way, you feel that adventurous spirit throughout these photographs.
There’s something really beautiful about documenting the quieter outskirts of a town instead of only busy city streets.
Quiet Observations
As we continue, we move between roadside moments, weeds growing around infrastructure, food stops, movement from inside the car, and flashes of everyday life.
Then we arrive at another really interesting pairing.
Earlier we saw the mysterious leg.
Now we have another close-up of exposed skin paired with this isolated bubble.
These photographs begin speaking to one another.
There are several images throughout this body of work that really stay with me.
The flower.
The bubble.
The mysterious shadow.
Those photographs linger.
Gestures Matter
This photograph of several hands petting what looks like a sheep is wonderful.
Two children’s hands.
One older hand.
Three completely different gestures coming together in one frame.
It’s quiet.
Simple.
But emotionally rich.
The same thing happens with the photograph of someone gently holding a tiny baby bird.
These aren’t dramatic moments.
They’re subtle.
And that’s exactly why they’re powerful.
The emotional energy comes from paying attention to the smallest gestures.
Everyday Tension
There are flowers.
Farmland.
Quiet rural landscapes.
Then suddenly we arrive at this photograph of a man underneath a train.
Immediately there’s tension.
You instinctively wonder what’s happening.
Nearby we return to another blurred black cat framed against flowers.
Again, that spontaneous energy keeps showing itself throughout the work.
Learning to Let Go
The tilted street scenes.
The umbrellas.
The awkward framing.
The unusual negative space.
Everything supports the photographer’s original statement.
Stop overthinking.
Press the shutter.
Trust your instincts.
That philosophy runs through the entire body of work.
Finding Beauty Everywhere
An empty bench becomes interesting because of graffiti and flowers.
An ordinary piece of street infrastructure suddenly feels like an art installation.
Bubbles drift through the frame while a man searches through his bag.
A parent carries a child home.
These quiet observations build the rhythm of the project.
Final Thoughts
We finish with a wonderful closing frame.
A police car passes by.
An officer stands below.
Above, a crowd of onlookers watches from the windows.
It’s a strong ending.
Overall, I found this body of work genuinely exciting.
There are several photographs here that I’ll remember.
Especially that mysterious frame with the cat’s shadow, the barefoot leg, and the milk carton.
Beautiful.
Weird.
Exactly the kind of photograph that stays with you.
Thank you for submitting your work.
If you’d like to submit your own photographs for review, click Create Flux Issue in the description below.
You can upload your own 36-frame body of work and maybe I’ll review it here on the channel.
Currently, I’m walking around Philadelphia, and today I wanted to share some thoughts about the candid nature of street photography.
I think street photography has everything to do with how you engage with humanity.
Your personality is on display through the frames that you make.
If you’re shy and reserved, using a zoom lens and photographing people from across the street, those qualities remain in your photography. You’re making candid photographs, but they’re often more about geometry, light, and form than genuine engagement with people.
Maybe that’s simply who you are.
Then there’s the documentary photographer.
They’re seeking to go deeper. They embed themselves within communities. They aren’t afraid of conversation, confrontation, or connection.
I’ve realized over the years that this is the approach I’ve naturally gravitated toward.
It isn’t about abandoning candid photography.
It’s about expanding what candid photography can be.
Learning to Be Human First
The first time I picked up a camera and practiced street photography was here in Philadelphia over a decade ago.
Later, when I moved to Baltimore, I realized I had to learn an entirely different way to play the game.
Walking through neighborhoods like Sandtown-Winchester, I couldn’t simply wander around making candid photographs the same way I would in Center City Philadelphia.
That approach wouldn’t work.
It forced me to learn something much more valuable.
Be a human first. Be a photographer second.
That’s the shift.
Many photographers work in cities like Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles where crowds allow anonymity. You can simply walk, observe, and quietly make photographs.
But if you’re in a small town…
If you’re somewhere people immediately notice you…
You have to engage first.
Photography comes afterward.
Becoming Part of the Scene
For me, that meant returning to the same places repeatedly.
I’d stand near bus stops.
I’d talk to people.
Eventually I became a familiar face.
Trust slowly developed.
People began recognizing me.
I’d explain that I was learning photography and that I was simply curious about the neighborhood.
Eventually I asked permission to make portraits.
Then something interesting happened.
Once people trusted me…
I could begin making candid photographs naturally.
When you know how to engage with people, eventually you become a fly on the wall.
Street Photography Is More Nuanced Than People Think
Too many people think candid photography has rigid rules.
That you must make photographs without people noticing.
That interaction somehow invalidates the work.
I don’t believe that’s true.
If you travel around the world simply running around making “gotcha” photographs, you’ll only get so far.
More importantly…
I don’t think the work becomes very interesting.
Instead…
Make your presence known.
Smile.
Say hello.
Acknowledge strangers.
Be open.
When you engage with humanity first, something changes.
You gain more time.
More trust.
More freedom to compose.
Better timing.
Most importantly…
You gain emotional proximity.
Not just physical closeness.
That emotional closeness creates more complexity within the frame.
Photography Opened the World to Me
Traveling throughout Israel and Palestine…
Zambia…
The villages and slums of Mumbai…
I’ve realized the camera isn’t just a camera.
It’s a passport.
It’s a key.
Photography has opened doors for me that otherwise would’ve remained closed.
I’ve been invited into churches.
Mosques.
Synagogues.
People’s homes.
I’ve shared coffee.
Tea.
Meals.
I’ve climbed mountains with strangers.
Photography became a byproduct of living openly.
Treat photography as a byproduct of your experience as a human being.
A Lesson From Israel
I’ll never forget arriving in Israel in 2017 while studying abroad in Jerusalem.
One of the first places I visited was the road between Jerusalem and Jericho.
There was almost nobody around.
Just one farmer.
Two boys.
A herd of goats.
I didn’t speak Arabic.
I barely knew how to communicate.
But I approached them with openness.
I smiled.
I said Salaam Alaikum.
Then I pulled out an Instax camera.
I made a portrait of the farmer.
I handed him the print.
The boys immediately ran toward me wanting photographs too.
Those little prints became gifts.
From that moment…
Everything changed.
The camera became more than something that takes.
It became something that gives.
From there I was invited into homes.
People offered to show me their neighborhoods.
And throughout those experiences…
I continued making candid photographs naturally.
Bring an Instax Camera
If you’re traveling…
Bring an Instax camera.
Gift photographs to strangers.
Watch how stories begin unfolding around you.
That one small decision changes the entire dynamic.
It helps overcome fear.
It builds trust.
It allows you to get physically and emotionally closer to people.
And suddenly…
Photographs you never thought were possible become possible.
Beyond Sidewalk Surfing
I joke sometimes that many photographers simply go sidewalk surfing.
Ricoh in the pocket.
See a moment.
Pull it out.
Click.
Keep walking.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.
But I believe the strongest street photography often happens when you’re immersed inside an experience.
Not simply passing through it.
That requires time.
Consistency.
Returning again and again.
The technical aspects of photography—composition, light, timing—matter.
Of course they do.
But I honestly think the hardest obstacle photographers face isn’t technical.
It’s overcoming the fear of engaging with another human being.
There Are No Rules
Don’t let the internet convince you there’s only one correct way to make street photography.
There isn’t.
There are no absolute rules.
Play the game your own way.
We’re all different people.
With different personalities.
Different experiences.
Different ways of connecting with the world.
Street photography is simply an open-world exploration.
All you need is a camera.
A good pair of shoes.
And somewhere to wander.
Turn left.
Turn right.
Walk toward the bridge.
Explore Old City.
Follow your curiosity.
You never know what’s waiting around the next corner.
When you’re open to possibility…
You’re open to better photographs.
But even more importantly…
You’re open to a richer life.
Photography becomes filled with purpose and meaning far beyond making a great picture.
That’s what candid street photography has given me.
And hopefully these thoughts encourage you to go explore your own town…
Meet people…
Have experiences…
Bring your camera…
And allow photography to become a natural extension of living fully.
If you wake up enthusiastic for the day, curious and eager about life, your routines, and daily work, consider that success and what it’s like to be blessed.
FLUX is a visual language built around movement, chance, fragmentation, repetition, and the transformation of ordinary life into evidence.
The photography uses high-contrast black and white, 28mm proximity, layered compositions, graphic geometry, human gesture, and ambiguity. The street is treated as a constantly changing visual field where chaos briefly resolves into order.
FLUX TV extends this language into time through Handycam footage, ambient sound, repetition, sequencing, abrupt movement, and fragmented observation. Output through CRT televisions introduces scanlines, distortion, flicker, degradation, and the aesthetic of broadcast, surveillance, public-access television, and obsolete media.
The physical archive adopts a deliberately bureaucratic aesthetic: cheap monochrome laser printing, ordinary printer paper, toner, manila folders, labels, file numbers, contact sheets, and utilitarian office materials. Photographs become less like precious art objects and more like documents, records, or pieces of evidence.
This creates the central tension of FLUX:
Life is chaotic, fleeting, and uncontrollable. The archive attempts to classify, number, contain, and preserve it.
FLUX moves between these two forces—experience and documentation, movement and containment, signal and artifact.
Photography freezes it. Video lets it flow. CRT transmits it. The printer reduces it. The folder contains it. The archive accumulates it.
FLUX is the bureaucratization of lived experience: witnessing the continuous transformation of everyday life, then recording, printing, filing, looping, broadcasting, and preserving its remains.
Welcome to Flux Archive #4, where I share some of the photographs I’ve made over the past few years and the lessons I’ve learned throughout my decade-long journey practicing street photography.
Today we’re looking through Flux Volume 4—photographs made throughout August 2023 across Philadelphia, New York City, and Costa Rica.
More than anything, I want to share the idea of using photography as a visual diary, and why I believe this approach unlocks entirely new possibilities for your practice.
Let Moments Come to You
The first photograph was made from my apartment window.
Around 7 PM, after dinner, I looked outside and noticed smoke rising from a fire in North Philadelphia. I simply saw the moment and made the photograph.
The goal isn’t to constantly hunt for photographs. It’s to allow moments to come toward you.
That simple shift changes everything.
Photography stops becoming something you chase and instead becomes a way of paying attention.
Gestures Are Everywhere
One of the easiest things to look for in street photography is gesture.
A hand adjusting sunglasses.
A couple kissing.
People interacting with each other.
These small movements instantly add life to a frame.
If you’re ever unsure what to photograph, begin looking for hands, body language, and interactions between people. They’re simple visual triggers that repeat endlessly throughout the streets.
Follow the Light
Sometimes people don’t matter at all.
Sometimes it’s the light.
Artificial light underground. Natural light breaking through clouds. Shadows stretching across the street.
Don’t get caught up asking whether something is or isn’t street photography.
Allow light and curiosity to guide you.
One practical exercise I constantly return to is simply looking upward.
By exposing for the highlights and crushing the shadows in high-contrast black and white, clouds become abstract, dramatic, and almost otherworldly.
Whenever I don’t know what to photograph…
I photograph the sky.
Shooting From the Hip with the Ricoh GR
One of my favorite photographs in this collection was made in Queens.
I’d never been there before.
Three women stood outside a storefront, and I made the photograph while casually walking past.
With the Ricoh GR, I rarely need to raise the camera to my eye.
Looking down at the LCD gives me enough information to understand how the composition will align.
I often hold the camera low, press the shutter with my thumb, and photograph discreetly.
You can still create strong compositions without ever looking through a viewfinder.
The Ricoh makes that possible.
Don’t Be Afraid to Engage
At Coney Island I noticed a couple dancing beneath the boardwalk.
Instead of staying distant, I walked over.
We talked.
I held their speaker while they danced.
Then I photographed the scene.
Being emotionally present changes the photographs you make.
You can engage with people and still come home with candid photographs.
Immediately afterward I found a group of boys playing basketball on the beach.
I’d never seen that before.
Again, curiosity led the way.
Photography Is a Visual Puzzle
Every photograph is a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Your position. The background. The timing. The gesture.
All of it has to come together.
For the basketball photograph, I dropped low so the player separated cleanly from the sky.
The hoop. The tower. The dunk.
Everything aligned because of where I positioned myself.
Layering begins with movement.
Instinct Matters Too
Not every photograph is carefully constructed.
When my brother and I arrived in Costa Rica, a local dog wandered near our Airbnb.
I instinctively lifted the camera and made the photograph.
Frames made from instinct often carry a different energy.
There’s a balance between careful composition and immediate reaction.
Sometimes you solve the puzzle.
Sometimes you simply trust yourself.
Photograph Your Life
Costa Rica reminded me why I love photography.
My brother looking out the window before a storm.
The ocean.
The beach.
A tilted horizon.
A reflection in the car mirror.
These photographs matter because they’re my life.
Looking back through them allows me to relive those memories.
That’s the power of the visual diary.
Finding Meaning Through Abstraction
High-contrast black and white helps me simplify the world.
By exposing for highlights and allowing shadows to disappear, ordinary scenes become abstract and emotional.
A horse.
An insect.
A spider.
My brother juggling rocks against the sky.
Abstraction helps me find meaning in everyday life.
Learn the Light in Your City
One of my favorite places to photograph is Market Street in Philadelphia.
Around 5 PM, during certain times of the year, the light becomes incredible.
Knowing your city matters.
Know where the light falls.
Put the sun behind you.
Expose for the highlights.
Wait.
You don’t always have to chase people.
Sometimes you simply stand still and allow gestures to arrive.
Everyday Moments Matter
I photographed my friends while we watched Oppenheimer.
The photograph happened the exact moment the atomic bomb exploded on screen.
Those small personal moments become part of the diary too.
So do the tunnels beneath City Hall.
I’ve photographed there countless times because the light is endlessly beautiful.
Sometimes I hold the camera high.
Sometimes I shoot vertically.
Sometimes I simply wait for people to enter the frame.
Fishing the scene.
Waiting for convergence.
Turn the Camera Around
Don’t forget to photograph yourself.
I make self-portraits often.
They’re part of the diary too.
Photography isn’t only about documenting what life looks like.
It’s about documenting how life feels.
Reflections.
Distorted windows.
Imperfections.
Atmosphere.
Mood.
These choices create a world that feels personal rather than objective.
Photograph What Brings You Joy
A discarded newspaper.
A couple riding a scooter.
A father and daughter.
Someone sitting alone in a park.
There is always something worth photographing.
The more consistently you go out, the more you’ll begin recognizing recurring patterns.
Eventually those compositional decisions become instinctive.
Your eye develops naturally.
Photography becomes less about searching and more about seeing.
Thank you for watching.
If you’d like to print this body of work, you can find the Flux Volume 4 PDF in the description.
You can also submit 36 photographs through the Flux Generator for a chance to have your own issue reviewed here on the YouTube channel.
If you’d like to join the Flux community and our Discord, click the Join button below.
