When you align within, the world aligns without.
Your internal world directly reflects/manifests externally when you are aligned
Your internal world directly reflects/manifests externally when you are aligned
This morning I wanted to discuss what it means to be an amateur photographer—and why I will forever stay one.
When people, especially non-photographers, ask about photography, the first question is always about career:
Are you a professional? Do you make money from photography?
My response is always simple: I’m just an amateur photographer.
The word amateur comes from the Latin amare — to love.
To be an amateur is to do something purely because you love to do it. It’s to create for the sake of creating, without expectation of money, validation, or fame.
I believe this is the most authentic expression an artist can give:
not working under pressure or for external outcomes, but simply because the act itself is fulfilling.
When you create for deadlines, clients, or checklists, the spirit of play dies. And play is essential for authentic artistic expression.
That’s why I approach the streets like a child on day one, every day. Everything is new, fresh, exciting. A child looks at the world with wonder, and that’s exactly how I want to see:
That sense of awe is what keeps photography alive.
The tragedy of the professional is that the work can become mediocre under the burden of expectations. External validation, rules of what’s “good” or “bad,” and commercial demands weigh the work down.
The amateur has freedom.
Freedom to create for the sake of creation.
Freedom to explore and experiment without limit.
And in that freedom, the most dynamic and interesting expressions of art are born.
The goal is simple: return to day one each day.
Never lose curiosity. Never stop exploring.
For me, the ultimate goal in life is to never miss another sunrise—to cultivate enthusiasm and love for life through photography, through childlike curiosity.
I never want to feel like I’ve mastered photography.
I never want the learning to end.
I will forever remain an amateur.
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante. Today I want to dive into the philosophy of the beginner’s mind in street photography. This is a concept rooted in Zen — called shoshin — and it’s about treating every day like Day One.
If you want to advance, if you want to improve as a photographer, the path is simple:
forget everything you think you know.
Return to the drawing board. Go back to Day One. Approach the streets as a big kid with a camera — waking up each morning eager to play.
My ultimate goal in life is to never miss another sunrise. Each time I witness that light, I feel grateful for the day. And I want my photographs to reflect that same sense of gratitude, curiosity, and wonder.
Growth is paradoxical. Over the years, your photography improves, frames get stronger, and success builds — but eventually you risk stagnation.
To truly advance, you must destroy the old and create anew.
Empty yourself. Let go. Embrace the unknown.
As a horticulturalist, I work in gardens every day. Recently, I cleared out a huge Bird of Paradise to design a minimalist Zen garden. By stripping away clutter, I allowed the Buddhist pine to stand as the focal point.

Photography works the same way:
This is why I shoot high-contrast black-and-white, underexposing for highlights and letting shadows crush. It’s my way of clearing visual clutter, just like pruning a garden.
Too often, photography becomes work: carrying gear, chasing projects, seeking validation. But when you loosen up, throw your camera on your wrist or in your pocket, and simply play — you rediscover joy.
Like pruning or raking sand patterns in a Zen garden, photography should feel playful. The process itself should bring delight.

In Zen, shoshin means beginner’s mind.
Treat each day like Day One:
Approach the streets this way and even the most mundane — smoke rising from a fountain, a stranger crossing the street — becomes extraordinary.
People often ask: “Are you a professional photographer?”
I tell them: I’m an amateur.
The word amateur comes from the Latin amare — to love.
“An amateur is someone who does something for the love of it.”
This is the most authentic way to approach photography. Not for money. Not for recognition. Just for love.
A child has infinite upside — infinite potential. A seed grows into a tree that stretches toward the sky.
Photography is the same. As long as you remain an amateur with curiosity at the forefront, you have infinite room to grow.
I don’t want mastery. I want play. I want the streets to surprise me.
There’s a difference between being childish and being childlike.
Cultivate the childlike. Carry your camera as if you’ve just discovered the world for the first time.
When you let go of the result, you actually find better results.
One summer on Coney Island, my friend Humberto convinced me to climb some slippery rocks by the water. At first, I resisted — I thought there was no photograph to be found. But once we went, the stars aligned and I captured a shot I never expected.

That’s the lesson: through play, the moments come to you.
For me, photography is not just an act — it’s a philosophy of life.
The essence of photography is curiosity and love for life. That’s what reflects back in the frame.
Find a place in your city where the horizon opens up — maybe along a river. Stand there, look beyond the horizon, and remind yourself how open the world is.
As photographers, the world is our canvas. You can create something from nothing, anywhere, at any time.
“The eyes of the amateur will be the eyes that describe what it was like to live during this time.”
That’s the power of the snapshot — authentic reflections of life, created out of curiosity and love.
If you enjoyed this, check out dantesisofo.com for my books, contact sheets, Ricoh GR guide, and more lectures like this.

What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante, currently walking around 9th Street here in South Philadelphia. Today I’m thinking about the power of photography and its simple ability to allow you to remember.
When I think about the act of photographing—and especially when I go back and review my photographs, whether it’s a photo or a video, really any sort of visual media—it allows me to relive the experience directly. And it’s a very selfish thing to photograph, actually, because when I’m photographing, I’m photographing purely for myself and for the joy that it provides me. Then, when I look back at the images, it really does allow me to relive those experiences, to recall the feelings I had, the sensation of being out there in the world when I made that picture.
While this is a very subjective and very personal way of engaging with the medium, I feel it’s the most meaningful. When you have this visual diary of your day, this visual record that says you were here, you experienced this, it fulfills your life. It’s a simple way of using photography to create memories. And when you go back and relive them through viewing the images or watching the videos, you can put yourself back into your shoes, retrace your steps, and find joy in that. I think it’s okay to treat photography this way. That’s how I’ve been treating it for the past three years now, and I feel like I’m never going to go back.
Think of the photo albums left behind by families—maybe your great-grandfather or grandfather had a camera at that time and made pictures. Those are usually the photos cherished most. If you treat photography almost like you’re creating your own digital time capsule, your own visual diary, your own photo album, it’s the most meaningful and joyous way of engaging with this thing.
That’s how I treat both photography and video: as a way for me to create memories and relive them. Video especially is such a powerful medium. Some of the videos I’ve made—even using a 360 camera or just this GoPro Mini—put you right back into that point of view. With super-view, you feel immersed within that perspective. That first-person point of view is a great way to share and relive memories.
We should consider not just how we photograph, but why we photograph. If you find it’s simply a way for you to record your life and bring more meaning to it, that’s enough. It’s okay to engage with it in that way. That’s how I’ll continue my journey—and I’m just sharing it with you.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante. Currently walking around 9th Street here in South Philadelphia, just snapshotting my way through life. Well, check out this awesome sign. It says classic. It’s pretty cool.
Today I’m just thinking about the simple fact that photography brings me so much joy in life. Just being able to walk, to explore, to have the sun on my skin and to witness all of the beauty in the mundane is something so profound, but so simple. It doesn’t matter where I am in the world, what I’m doing, what I’m experiencing, or what I find—I always know that there’s just something around the corner. There is always so much to do, to see, to explore, and to photograph in this life of ours.
Because of that, I just keep coming back out here. I keep walking, I keep exploring. Photography gives you this ultimate excuse to just go out—to explore, to meet new people, to photograph new things in new ways. And despite how mundane things may seem, I thrive. That is the most beautiful thought I can come to when it comes to photography: the fact that I thrive in the mundane.
I thrive in the monotony, where everything is infinitely beautiful and interesting when you look at the world through the lens of a camera. When you look at the world and all of its complexities, when you experience things deeply within the moment—it transforms everything.
For me, the ultimate tragedy is to be stuck inside. Anytime I’m sitting indoors, I feel like my soul slowly dies. But when I’m outside, moving my physical body through the world, photographing, I feel like I exist outside the passage of time.
I’m simultaneously present in the moment while entering a stream of becoming, of evolution and change, through the photographic process of making new pictures.
And when you’re out there making pictures, it’s really important to detach yourself from the outcome—whether or not you’re going to come home with a good or bad photograph. Simply affirm life through the click of the shutter and recognize that your next photograph is your best photograph.
This is the beauty of street photography: the aimless wandering it allows. There are no real goals, no fixed destinations in mind. Just following curiosity. Not attaching to whether anything “interesting” happens or whether you come home with a “good” photograph.
It’s merely a way to engage with life—and with humanity. Anywhere I am in the world, I know that I have the ability to create something. I know that I have the ability to experience something new. And it’s all thanks to photography.
So that’s the thought of the day: don’t take life and photography so seriously—embrace the spirit of play.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante. Today I wanted to share my daily meal, the one that has powered me for the last three years. It’s simple, it’s primal, and it’s the fuel that keeps me sharp, strong, and alive out on the street with my camera.
Ingredients
Instructions
I don’t eat breakfast. I don’t eat lunch. I fast throughout the entire day, saving my energy and focus for what matters most: life and photography. Then, at the end of the day, I feast.
Three years on this regimen and here’s what it’s given me:
Here’s the real hack: buy in bulk.
This is paradise for me:
One meal a day, three years running. Simplicity. Clarity. Power.
It’s not just food. It’s fuel for photography. It’s the ultimate street photography meal.

“When you’re photographing people, you’re photographing somebody’s soul.”
“Street photography has nothing to do with street photography—it has everything to do with how you engage with humanity.”
“The way you engage with the world is what’s going to reflect back in the photographs you make.”
“I don’t even think of street photography as a genre—I think of it as a philosophy, an ethos, an approach.”
“The core philosophy is to go out there without preconceived notions, to let curiosity lead.”
“To practice street photography, you have to cultivate courage and a love for life.”
“The role of a street photographer is to find beauty in the mundane and to uplift it in a photograph.”
“Street photography doesn’t require a street—it’s an ethos you can bring anywhere in the world.”
“When you’re on the streets, share your POV. That’s the ultimate goal of an artist.”
DANTE
Walking through Old City, Philadelphia—brick roads underfoot, Ricoh GR III on the wrist strap—I find myself reflecting on street photography. What is it? Why does it matter? And why do I keep returning to it?
I was speaking with another photographer recently. He told me he prefers portraits and lifestyle images, working when people feel comfortable around the camera. That’s valid. But for me, street photography has always meant more than candid snapshots or rushing into people’s faces.
Street photography is often misunderstood as invasive or disruptive. In reality, it can be empathetic. Sometimes I chat with strangers. Sometimes I blend in quietly. Both paths can lead to strong, candid work. My best photos have come from being present—working a scene, engaging with people, and giving time for meaning to emerge.
When photographing people, you’re not just taking their picture. You’re photographing another human soul. Life. Meaning. To approach this carelessly—to just “take”—misses the point.
Street photography is less about rigid rules of composition and more about how you engage with humanity. The way you interact with the world reflects back in your photographs.
I don’t even think of street photography as a genre. To me, it’s a philosophy. An ethos. I’m a flâneur, a wanderer, a tourist in my hometown.
Street photography is about curiosity and intuition. You step into the world without preconceived notions of what to find. You embrace the unknown, cultivate courage, and carry a love for life and humanity. If you don’t love these things, perhaps street photography isn’t for you.
Street photography isn’t just people on sidewalks. It’s architecture, infrastructure, markings on the ground, light on glass buildings, sounds of church bells, and fragments of urban life.
It’s the parks, the lampposts, the signage, the posters. It’s everything that makes up human existence in the city. The role of the street photographer is to uplift the ordinary, to find beauty in the mundane.
Despite the name, street photography isn’t confined to streets or cities. You can apply its ethos in a rural village, on a mountain trail, or at the beach. It’s about approaching the world with openness, courage, and curiosity.
Ultimately, street photography is about sharing your unique point of view.
Some thoughts of the day –

DANTE
Walking along the river in Philadelphia on a crisp October morning, I’m struck by how clear the reflection is, how the sunlight hits my face. Fall is here, and so is today’s thought: the snapshot is the ultimate form of street photography.
Street photography thrives on spontaneity.
The candid snapshot is an instinctive endeavor. When I shoot, I’m not analyzing leading lines or perfect geometry. I’m simply reacting with my gut. Each photograph becomes a reflection of my inner fire — my thumos — rather than a diagram of the external world.
Using a compact camera like the Ricoh liberates me from overthinking. Shooting from the LCD, from the hip, even without looking — it’s all play.
“I don’t really have anything to say, but it’ll be said in my photographs.”
Imperfection in composition is part of the music. Life is imperfect, and the snapshot lets those imperfections sing.
Here’s the paradox:
That’s it. That’s the craft.
The rest is surrender — to flux, to chance, to the unknown.
Clicking the shutter is a kind of life-affirmation. It’s bliss, euphoria, a reminder that everything is fleeting. Seasons shift, light changes, and no photograph can ever be repeated.
You cannot make the same photograph twice.
By treating the day like a visual diary, the snapshot approach makes me a witness to impermanence — and to my own mortality. Maybe we don’t live forever. But the photograph? That remains.
To shoot snapshots is to embrace play:
It’s not about control. It’s about curiosity. The unknown. The joy of seeing what reality manifests in the frame today.
Street photography, at its best, is freedom. It’s instinct, gut, spontaneity. It’s the joy of photographing without overthinking — because in the end, impermanence rules everything.
Maybe you can’t live forever.
But you can make a photograph.
👉 If you want to dive deeper into my workflow, check out the Books tab on my site — I’ve got eBooks and lecture-style videos waiting for you.