Flux is happiness

 flux, change, evolution, this is true happiness. To do the same thing repeatedly for the rest of your life is insanity. But to embrace new things, to go forward into the unknown, you find clarity. There’s something special about embracing the uncertainty, serendipity, and mystery of life, and so when I consider change, I consider it as pure happiness, pure joy because it’s through trying to things, new places, eating new people, changing internally, that you thrive.

I don’t wanna survive. I wanna thrive

 The dragon of time is a bitch. It seems like we’re either in the past, dwelling on something that we did wrong or an experience that we had that was uplifting, or anxious about the future, hoping for some distant idea, an idealized version of your life, what you should be doing or could be doing. But this to me is what creates hell on earth. Hell is a mindset, it’s being caught up in a story in your head. Paradise is removing the head, and being early present in the physical body.

Metabolic evolution

When you sleep, and your cells replenish, and your muscle fibers tearing grow, and you nourish your body with satiating food, you evolve. And so when you consider evolution, perhaps we should think more about how we can evolve, upwardly, and move onwards, and to grow into expand, rather than deplete our energy, to lose our muscle, and to grow weaker. Of course, we are flesh, we cut and bleed, and are inevitably going to die, but while we are alive, to thrive, is to grow larger, to grow stronger, and to do everything in your physical power to evolve physically. Because I find that the physicality of life, perhaps influences your mindset and your state of being more than anything.

All is mind 

And so while all really is mind, everything that we think feel and see is merely a projection of our mental experience in reality  our physical body is with determines. I’ve meant mental state. Just think about your gut health. Have you ever had poor gut health, or you feel cramping, like you have to shit, or like that feeling that is unsettling where you have to sit down and your digestion is poor? This is where depression is born. Depression is born in the body come through your body being pressed down, through your gut health being well, and so your physical body is the temple that influences the mind.

Just switch it up

I recently have been switching up my process. I’m giving myself more creative constraints. The more constraints, the more freedom.  and so now I stick to one street per day. I don’t go left. I don’t go right, I don’t debate on color or black-and-white. I just simply pick a location and I start moving my body and shooting. And every single day I make a scene of 36 photos and updated digital archive, GPS tagging every photograph that I make. And so each day, I see the progress page update on my flux website working on Philly influx, or I’m trying to conquer the entire city, barefoot. And so when I see the map light up with new locations, I unlock, when I see the miles rack up in the hour spent photographing and the digital archive increasing in size, I’m evolving, I’m transforming each day, I’m seeing an ex experiencing new terrain and eating new people and embracing flux and change. And so the ultimate goal for me as a Photographer working in this way is to systematically document with space and time look like. I’m curious about creating an archive of the city of Philadelphia, the birthplace of America, and capturing this pivotal change in history where the storefronts, the businesses, the signs, the infrastructure, the Street, life, the homes, everything is in flux and changing, and so I’m returning to the purest way of using photography as a way to simply document with space and time look like. When I consider Mr. Neipce who created the chemistry and invented photography, in the first image of that view from the window, or even the work of Eugene at J, lugging around his large format camera documenting what Paris look like in the 19th and 20th century, I feel inspired. I feel inspired by the act of using the media as a way to preserve what something looks like. When you look back at an image from the streets of Paris, it’s like looking back at a lost world or even looking at photographs from the archives here in Philadelphia. It doesn’t even feel real like when you look back at the pictures it feels extremely surreal and abstract and interesting and mysterious, and the Photographer had no idea that these images would even evoke this kind of feeling. And so now Photographer, who understands these visual sensitivity of strong composition, and has an understanding of how to make an impactful image, perhaps I can play with a systematic approach of documenting space and time, and what Philadelphia looks like, while simultaneously playing along the fine line of abstraction and artistic expression in the medium. I’m trying to discover something new, I’m trying to seek more creative breakthrough, I need to surprise myself. And so the simple idea I have is, the more limitations, I oppose upon myself, the more creative breakthroughs I can have. I think about my time in Tokyo, I literally walked the same exact street and stood at the same corners every single day at the same exact time and even ate dinner at the same exact space at the same time every single day on repeat like a machine, like a machine. But by eliminating all these decisions and things, I was able to create new work that surprises me. 

Just switch it up

What I’m learning about walking these strange streets in Philadelphia where there’s really not much energy or people walking, is that we should not allow the external circumstance to determine our ability to create. And so no matter what location I am walking through, I’m trying to find a ways to articulate the Monday nature of life and to put order to it in my frame. I’m finding that by walking extremely mundane locations and forcing myself into these unfamiliar spaces, I find more joy and meaning in life itself. Because the infinite possibility that lies within the mundane is novelty. Novelty isn’t going somewhere exotic or somewhere interesting, but it’s recognizing the power of your mind and the way that you interpret everything is it ultimately will influence your ability to create. And so I think that tapping into imaginative spirit, the childlike wonder that we have, is our ultimate amen duty as an artist. It’s to simply wake up in the morning, enthusiastic for the sunrise for the day itself, to sort of just treat each moment and treat each photograph you make like it could be your last. And so once you have this kind of gun to the back of your head, which is the inhibit ability of your death and you recognize the finite nature of everything, it forces you to be in the moment to seize the day to embrace what’s in front of you and to start creating.

The Uberman Photographer 

Beyond the image. Beyond the basic notion that the photograph needs to be poetic and interesting on a viewer. Beyond the active self expression. What if we simply used photography and the medium itself and the click of the shutter as pure life affirmation. It’s just a way of being for me at this point. Being completely unattached to the outcome of the photo and the validation I received from it, is reminding me of why I practice photography. I practice for photography because it makes me feel alive. It requires me to be an embodied reality, walking, moving, experiencing my senses and doing doing things. Because photography is real it’s physical it requires you to move out there in the world and the front lines of life experiencing humanity with courage and curiosity. Photography is the ultimate way to experience life because it takes you outside of the passage of time and through the creation of images perhaps you can live on forever. The creation of an image, the active extracting from time itself, and that feeling is powerful. That feeling is what it feels like to become the over man. The over man conquers time itself. The over man is within the now. The over man is childlike and curious and playful and simply saying yes to life. The over man is not seeking anything from the world. The over man simply has so much vitality within the physical body that gives you then the mental clarity to start to articulate the world with your camera. And the act of pressing the shutter, the active clicking the button, is simply reminding you and God, and the world, that you exist, that you witnessed this, that your hardest pumping, your hormones are firing, and your body is moving, that you are changing, evolving, and perpetually seeking meaning of joy through the stream of becoming and embracing flux

How Constraints Create Better Street Photography

Yo, what’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to FLUX Weekly Witness #9, where I look at the photographs submitted by members of the FLUX community. Today we’re looking at FLUX 4 by Brad Pickle, a collection of photographs made between June 1st and June 10th.

One thing that immediately stood out to me was a conversation Brad and I had before this project. He told me he wanted more constraints in his photography. More limitations. More structure.

And honestly, that made me really happy.

One of the constraints he imposed on himself was committing to the square format. He found that choosing between horizontal and vertical compositions was creating unnecessary decision fatigue. By removing that choice, he simplified the process and freed himself to focus on seeing.

Most of these photographs were made using the 71mm crop mode on the Ricoh GR IIIx, pushing compression to become an active part of the visual language. :contentReference[oaicite:1]{index=1}

Compression as a Tool for Abstraction

What really resonated with me throughout this work were the graphic elements and textural qualities.

Many of these images have no clear sense of time or place. They exist almost outside reality.

The compression isolates details so effectively that the photographs begin to function less as documents and more as visual artifacts.

A bird framed within empty space.

Parking lot lights floating in darkness.

A mattress leaning against a wall.

Leaves emerging from shadow.

These aren’t just photographs of things. They’re photographs of shape, texture, light, and mystery.

The image becomes less about the subject itself and more about the relationship between form, geometry, and space.

That’s where the work starts to move beyond documentation and toward something more emotional.

Working With What You Have

Brad is photographing in Birmingham, Alabama.

He’s not walking through Times Square. He’s not surrounded by endless streams of people or dramatic street scenes.

And that’s exactly why I appreciate this work.

Too many photographers believe they need a better location before they can make meaningful photographs.

Brad proves the opposite.

He’s looking at:

• Sidewalk markings
• One-way signs
• Shadows
• Textures
• Patterns in architecture
• Small details most people overlook

He’s finding material in ordinary life.

And that’s what excites me.

Great photography often begins when you stop waiting for something interesting to happen.

Looking at the World Like a Canvas

As I moved through the zine, I kept coming back to the same idea:

Brad isn’t looking at the world as documentary material.

He’s looking at it like a canvas.

The photographs are organized around visual relationships rather than narrative ones.

Leaves overlap and create texture.

Signs become graphic symbols.

Patterns become compositions.

The world gets reduced into shapes, forms, and tonal relationships.

That approach creates photographs that feel closer to drawings or fine art prints than traditional documentary photographs.

The Importance of Mystery

One of the strongest qualities in this work is ambiguity.

There’s a photograph featuring what appear to be handprints layered beneath a pattern of lines.

I don’t completely understand what’s happening in the frame.

And that’s exactly why it works.

The compression creates uncertainty.

The square frame isolates the subject.

The photograph leaves room for interpretation.

Mystery invites the viewer into the image.

Instead of explaining everything, the photograph creates questions.

That tension is what keeps certain images alive long after you’ve looked at them.

Building a Personal Mythology

What impressed me most is that Brad is creating his own visual world.

Despite photographing in familiar surroundings, the images feel detached from everyday reality.

They become fragments.

Artifacts.

Remnants of something larger.

A blurred figure in a tunnel.

Paper textures on a wall.

Dark surfaces with strange markings.

Graphic signs transformed into abstract forms.

Taken together, they create a feeling rather than a description.

And that feeling is what stays with me.

My Favorite Images

A few photographs stood out immediately.

The spread featuring the handprints and the sign with tape layered across it is probably my favorite in the entire sequence.

The human element adds impact, while the tape introduces a subtle texture that elevates the graphic quality of the frame.

I also loved:

• The isolated leaf emerging from darkness
• The minimalist spread featuring dirt and leaves
• The photograph that resembles the side of a spaceship, split perfectly down the middle
• The bird sequence moving from wire to flight

These images demonstrate a strong sensitivity to composition, texture, and visual reduction.

Why Constraints Matter

The biggest lesson from this project isn’t about square format.

It’s about constraints.

By limiting his options, Brad discovered a new way of seeing.

The square frame changed how he organized information.

The compressed focal length changed how he interpreted space.

The combination led him toward photographs that feel less like documents and more like works of art.

Sometimes the fastest way forward is by removing choices.

And that’s exactly what happened here.

Final Thoughts

Brad, I really resonate with this work.

What you’re doing with compression, texture, ambiguity, and the square format feels fresh.

It feels personal.

It feels like you’re discovering something.

And that’s the most exciting place a photographer can be.

Keep pushing.

Keep experimenting.

Keep following this thread.

I genuinely think you’re onto something.

Peace.

How to Find Meaning in the Mundane Through Street Photography

Yo, what’s poppin’, lads? It’s Dante.

Today I want to share some thoughts on how I’m finding meaning in the mundane through photography.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been surveying the streets of Philadelphia. Ever since June 19th, I’ve walked almost 100 miles throughout the city. Right now we’re at 97.5 miles, 50 hours, and 17 streets explored.

I’m mapping out the entirety of Philadelphia through a GPS-coordinated archive, documenting every route, every neighborhood, and every walk.

One of the most recent streets I explored was Woodland Avenue.

During that walk, I stumbled across an incredible story—a man who had been shot in the eye and survived. He allowed me to photograph him, which I’m extremely grateful for.

It’s not every day that you meet the Philly Polyphemus.

But when I’m out there photographing, I’m not looking for moments like that.

I’m not searching for something emotional, visceral, or impactful.

Those moments come rarely.

And when they do arrive, they’re delivered through dedication, repetition, and consistent photographing.

What I’m actually seeking is much simpler.

I’m documenting what Philadelphia looks like today.

Preserving Space and Time

This photograph was made on June 16th.

I’m photographing houses.

I’m photographing homes.

I’m photographing neighborhoods.

I’m not looking for something special.

Because what I’ve realized is that there is infinite meaning in the mundane.

I photographed a beauty supply store with a modern car parked in front of it.

At first glance, the image might seem meaningless.

But I find enormous significance in scenes like this because over time, the photograph will begin to resonate.

It will have something to say.

Simply because everything is in flux.

Everything changes.

The typography on a deli sign.

The architecture.

The storefronts.

The infrastructure.

Eventually, all of it disappears.

Photography allows us to preserve these fleeting moments in space and time.

Even something as ordinary as the sign for Woodland Deli becomes meaningful because one day it will no longer exist.

Beyond the Single Image

I’m increasingly treating photography as pure documentary material.

Beyond the poetry of the single image.

Beyond the contemporary idea that every street photograph needs to be impactful.

Instead, I’m using photography as a way to survey my city.

To record what I find.

It’s not about making one great frame.

Those moments come naturally through time spent doing the work.

What I’ve discovered is that by committing to a consistent process, I dramatically increase the chances of making something meaningful.

I start at one end of a street.

I walk to the other.

I don’t turn left.

I don’t turn right.

I don’t debate whether to shoot color or black and white.

I give myself extreme creative constraints.

And those constraints liberate me creatively.

Become an Archivist of Your Town

Whether you live in a bustling city like Philadelphia or a small rural town, there are photographs waiting to be made.

There is potential everywhere.

You simply have to stop hesitating.

Start making.

Look at the world around you as if you are the archivist of your town.

Treat photography as a method of surveying.

As a way of documenting what space looks like today.

Your photographs do not need to resonate with someone in 2026.

They do not need to validate you.

You can still bring your aesthetic instincts and your compositional sensitivities into the work.

But for me personally, viewing photography as documentary material has allowed me to find far more meaning in everyday life.

Detaching From the Audience

I’m completely detached from the outcome.

Detached from audience approval.

Detached from validation.

I am the number one audience member of my own work.

I genuinely love flipping through these photographs.

Yesterday, while walking down Torresdale Avenue—a completely random neighborhood in Philadelphia—I unexpectedly ran into another local photographer.

His mother saw me walking down the street and shouted:

“Yo, Eli, your friend’s out there.”

Eli came outside completely baffled.

He said:

“If there’s any photographer in Philly that’s going to be walking around here making pictures, it’s going to be you.”

And honestly, he wasn’t wrong.

I’m crazy dedicated to this thing.

Later, I made a portrait of him sitting inside his home.

Moments like that are impossible to plan.

Photography as an Odyssey

Exploring new parts of the city has started to feel like my own personal odyssey.

Almost like I’m Odysseus on his journey home.

Every walk becomes an adventure.

Even when there are very few people around, eventually something happens.

You meet someone.

You discover a place you’ve never seen.

You stumble across a story.

And all of it enriches life.

Photography makes wandering meaningful.

By remaining engaged with reality—walking, observing, and responding with the camera—you naturally begin to experience more joy.

Everything Is Photographable

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is this:

Everything is photographable.

Look up.

Use macro mode.

Look down beneath your feet.

Scan the world around you with possibility.

When you begin to see infinite potential in everyday life, you’ll simply start photographing.

And then you’ll slowly chip away at the work.

Always Make the Zine

At the end of every day, my goal is simple:

I make a zine.

I create a physical object from the work.

Flipping through my own photographs brings me enormous fulfillment because I’m genuinely interested in these streets.

I’m genuinely interested in surveying the land this way.

Recently, I photographed outside Holmesburg Prison—a panopticon prison in Northeast Philadelphia.

These are photographs I truly enjoy making.

And if you’re finding meaning in what you’re doing, I believe you should continue pursuing it.

Because you never know what the world might deliver through the simple act of following your curiosity.

The Archive as a Game

Ever since I shifted away from chasing the poetic single image and toward creating documentary material, I’ve discovered infinite possibility.

Photography has become almost like a game.

Each day:

• The archive updates.
• The mileage increases.
• The hours increase.
• New routes unlock.
• New project pages appear.

I can revisit yesterday’s walk.

Open the photographs.

See the exact GPS location.

View the camera settings.

Open the location in Google Street View.

And watch the archive slowly grow.

By treating daily photography as an act of preservation rather than performance, I’ve found far more meaning in the mundane.

And that’s my thought of the day.

How I’m finding meaning in the mundane through a particular creative constraint.

Keep walking.

Keep observing.

And keep making photographs.

TORRESDALE AVE IN FLUX →

The photographer walks 10.83 kilometers along Torresdale Avenue in Northeast Philadelphia over 3 hours and 52 minutes, capturing 75 monochrome photographs with a RICOH GR IV Monochrome. The route passes through Mayfair, Upper Holmesburg, and Tacony on June 18, 2026. Of the 75 photographs, 74 contain geographic coordinates, documenting commercial corridors, residential blocks, and street-level details along one of Philadelphia’s principal northeastern thoroughfares.

PHOTOGRAPHS	75
GEOTAGGED	74 (98%)
DURATION	3h 52m
ROUTE DISTANCE	6.7 mi
DATE	2026-06-18

Fortitude comes from the Latin word fortitūdō, meaning strength, courage, firmness, or bravery.

Breaking it down:

• fortis = strong, brave, courageous
• -tūdō = a suffix meaning a state or quality

So fortitude literally means “the quality of being strong.”

In classical and Christian thought, fortitude became one of the four cardinal virtues (alongside prudence, justice, and temperance). It doesn’t just mean physical strength—it means the inner strength to endure suffering, hardship, fear, or danger for the sake of what is good.

A simple distinction:

• Courage = facing fear.
• Fortitude = enduring difficulty over time without giving up.

For example, in the philosophy of Thomas Aquinas, fortitude is the virtue that enables a person to remain steadfast in pursuing the good even when confronted with pain, danger, or death.

Kensington Ave in Flux

On June 17, 2026, I walked 2.7 miles along Kensington Avenue and the surrounding streets of North Philadelphia, photographing the corridor over the course of 1 hour and 25 minutes with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome.

The route moved through Kensington, the River Wards, Northeast Philadelphia, and East Hunting Park, tracing one of the city’s most discussed and contested landscapes. Along the way, I produced 68 monochrome photographs, each geotagged at the exact location where it was made.

This project is part of Philadelphia in Flux, an ongoing effort to walk, photograph, and archive the city’s major streets one at a time. Rather than documenting isolated moments, the project creates a geographic record of Philadelphia as it exists today—street by street, block by block, photograph by photograph.

Statistics

• Photographs: 68
• Geotagged: 68 (100%)
• Duration: 1h 25m
• Route Distance: 2.7 mi
• Date: June 17, 2026
• Camera: Ricoh GR IV Monochrome

Every photograph in this archive contains geographic coordinates marking the exact location where the image was captured.

Walking Every Street in Philadelphia (Woodland Ave)

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today we’re doing some street photography along Woodland Avenue, working on my Philly in Flux project, where I’m essentially surveying every street in the city and geotagging it with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome paired with the GR World app.

So follow me along as we hit the streets of West Philly.

Starting at Cobbs Creek Parkway

I arrived here on Woodland Avenue and Cobbs Creek Parkway.

We’re all the way at the top here in West Philly, and the plan is simple:

Walk down toward University City and photograph whatever I find.

That’s it.

No destination.
No shot list.
No expectations.

Just one street from start to finish.

The First Surprise of the Day

Almost immediately, I started talking with people on the street.

One thing I’m learning from this project is that when you slow down and spend time in a place, conversations happen naturally.

You stop being someone passing through.

You become part of the environment, even if only for a moment.

And then something happened that led to one of the strongest photographs I’ve made in recent months.

A man told me he had been shot in the eye.

At first I couldn’t believe it.

The bullet was still lodged in his skull.

He explained how doctors left it there because removing it would be more dangerous than keeping it in place.

He survived.

His son survived.

And years later he was standing there telling the story.

I asked if I could make a photograph.

He said yes.

God literally blessed you with another life.

Moments like that remind me that photography isn’t always about composition or light.

Sometimes it’s simply about being present when life reveals itself.

Why This Project Is Working

As I continued walking Woodland Avenue, I kept thinking about why this project feels so rewarding.

The answer is simple:

It forces me to go places I otherwise would never go.

When you embrace uncertainty and the unknown, life starts handing you surprises.

Unexpected people.

Unexpected stories.

Unexpected photographs.

All of it is waiting outside your front door.

This project gives me a creative constraint:

Walk one street from start to finish.

That’s it.

And somehow that limitation creates freedom.

Because I’m no longer looking for specific photographs.

I’m simply responding to whatever appears in front of me.

Most Walks Are Actually Boring

People often imagine street photography as a constant stream of dramatic moments.

It’s not.

Most of the time I’m photographing:

• Buildings
• Fences
• Cars
• Utility poles
• Sidewalks
• Infrastructure
• Old signs

Most walks are mundane.

But that’s exactly why I enjoy them.

The ordinary forces me to stay curious.

It forces me to pay attention.

It forces me to be creative with whatever is available.

And over time, those small observations accumulate into something bigger.

An archive.

A record.

A survey of a city changing in real time.

Describing Philadelphia Right Now

At the end of the day, I’m trying to answer a simple question:

What did Philadelphia look like right here, right now?

Not ten years ago.

Not twenty years from now.

Today.

I’m not trying to do anything fancy.

I’m not chasing viral photographs.

I’m wandering.

But I’m wandering within a constraint.

And because of that, I feel creatively liberated.

Free to create with whatever life provides.

Building Philly in Flux

Back at home, I started assembling the work.

The entire Philly in Flux project lives on my website as a continuously updated photographic survey of Philadelphia streets.

Each walk includes:

• GPS data
• Geotagged photographs
• Maps
• Camera metadata
• Walking routes
• Project statistics

Every photograph can be opened on a map so viewers can see exactly where it was made.

The archive updates automatically as new walks are completed.

I’ve also built a system that allows photographs to be turned into printable zines.

Select images.

Generate a PDF.

Print.

Fold.

Staple.

Done.

Making the Zine

The Woodland Avenue walk became a zine.

Each page includes:

• Date
• Time
• Location
• Photographer information

The cover contains a QR code that links directly back to the digital project page.

I fold everything with a bone folder so the pages lay flat and then staple the finished booklet together.

Simple.

Physical.

Tangible.

A permanent record of a walk.

Building Systems, Not Just Photographs

Lately I’ve been using Claude Code to automate large portions of my workflow.

My focus isn’t just making photographs anymore.

It’s building systems.

Systems that make documenting, organizing, publishing, and sharing work easier.

The goal is simple:

Spend less time managing files.

Spend more time walking streets.

More time looking.

More time photographing.

And more time building an archive that grows day after day.

Woodland Avenue reminded me why I started this project in the first place.

You never know what’s waiting around the next corner.

You just have to keep walking.

Ricoh GR IV Monochrome Geotagging POV | Philly in Flux

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today we’re hitting the streets of Philadelphia with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome paired with the GR World application. The mission is simple:

Document one street.

Lehigh Avenue.

I have no idea what I’m going to find, but by the end of the day I want to produce both a physical zine and a digital archive complete with geotagged photographs.

This is the full workflow—from walking the street and making the photographs to publishing the work online and printing the final zine.

Let’s go.

Starting the Walk

I hopped off the bus at 33rd and Lehigh Avenue and immediately started walking.

The architecture is beautiful.

The goal is to walk the entire street from one end to the other, photographing everything that catches my attention along the way.

GR in hand.

GR World running.

Just walking and documenting space and time here in the City of Brotherly Love.

This is my small homage to America’s 250th anniversary.

My Ricoh GR IV Monochrome Setup

One of the techniques I use constantly is crop mode.

I have it assigned to the video button on the side of the camera.

A quick press switches me into the 50mm crop. If I see architecture across the street or something higher up on a building, I crop in, make the photograph, and keep moving.

The goal is speed.

The majority of these photographs are made while walking.

For the monochrome red filter, I simply hold down the video button.

My settings are intentionally simple:

• Aperture Priority at f/8
• Snap Focus at 2 meters
• Everything else automatic

I also use the Fn button to switch between:

• Snap Focus
• Single Point Focus

If I’m close to a subject, I’ll switch over and lock focus precisely.

That’s really it.

The camera disappears.

The process becomes intuitive.

Conversations on the Street

One of my favorite things about these walks is that people are curious.

They ask questions.

They tell stories.

A contractor stopped me and we talked about the vacant homes along the avenue.

Others asked what I was doing.

My answer is always the same:

I’m documenting the city.

That’s really what this project is about.

Preserving what exists right now.

Photographing the Ordinary

A mural from 2006.

A church cross glowing in morning light.

Modern cars parked along the curb.

A doorway that looks like you’d fall right out of it.

The ordinary becomes interesting when you slow down enough to look.

One thing I love photographing is parked cars.

Not vintage cars.

Modern cars.

The cars people actually drive today.

Those details become historical records faster than we realize.

315 Photos in 40 Minutes

By the time I photographed a fading sign on a storefront, I had already made roughly 315 photographs.

Forty minutes had passed.

By the end of the walk I knew I’d be close to 1,000 frames.

That’s how I work.

Fast.

Intuitive.

Constantly experimenting.

The red filter allows me to revisit the same scene and produce entirely different interpretations.

The process becomes playful.

The Duty of the Photographer

Standing beneath a McDonald’s sign, watching its shadow stretch across the sidewalk, I started thinking about why I enjoy projects like this.

The ultimate duty of the photographer is to articulate the mundane.

Everything around you is seemingly nothing.

A school.

A fast-food sign.

A Save-A-Lot.

A flagpole.

Nothing remarkable.

Until you decide to look.

Then the shadows matter.

The infrastructure matters.

The details matter.

And suddenly you’re creating a document of a place and a moment that will never exist again.

On this particular day, the goal was simple:

Document what Philadelphia looked like right here, right now.

Turning Life Into an Open World Game

There are a few different ways I think about this project.

The first is that it turns life into an open-world game.

I get to explore new territory.

Unlock new sections of the map.

Discover parts of the city I normally overlook.

The second is that I have a mission.

Not wandering.

Not aimlessly photographing.

A clear objective.

Create:

• A zine
• A digital archive
• A body of work

The mission gives direction.

The constraint gives freedom.

Walking one street in one direction sounds limiting, but it actually creates creative liberation.

You stop searching for photographs.

You start finding them everywhere.

Contributing Something Beyond Yourself

The most fulfilling aspect of this project is preservation.

These photographs can outlive me.

They can exist digitally.

They can exist physically.

They can serve as references for future generations.

They become evidence.

A record of what this place looked like.

And that feels meaningful.

It feels like contributing something beyond yourself.

Lehigh Avenue Conquered

After nearly three hours of walking, the journey was complete.

Lehigh Avenue conquered barefoot.

I had made 824 photographs.

Flow state achieved.

Now it was time for Phase 2.

Importing the Photos

My workflow is intentionally simple.

I use a Lightning-to-SD card reader and import everything directly into the iPhone Photos app.

High-contrast small JPEGs import quickly.

The GR World app can transfer files over Bluetooth, but I usually reach for the dongle because it’s reliable.

Folder created.

Photos imported.

Book-making mode activated.

The Flux System

Back at the studio, everything runs through a system I built.

A custom publishing hub created with Claude Code.

The entire workflow is automated according to my preferences.

I create a project.

Upload the photographs.

Generate a draft.

The system automatically:

• Creates thumbnails
• Generates derivatives
• Removes EXIF data
• Reverse geocodes GPS coordinates
• Builds the project structure

The result is a fully geotagged archive.

Publishing the Archive

The archive lives inside my Flux system.

Every project contributes to a larger map.

Every walk becomes part of a growing body of work.

For the Lehigh Avenue project:

• 114 archived photographs
• 4.2 miles walked
• 2 hours 17 minutes documented

Each image can be opened directly on a map.

You can see:

• Exact GPS coordinates
• Camera settings
• Street View location
• Downloadable JPEG files

Everything is accessible.

Everything is preserved.

Creating the Zine

Once the archive is complete, I select 36 photographs.

Each image gets added to a zine cart.

Then the system generates a print-ready PDF.

The project includes:

• Chronological sequencing
• Automatic captions
• GPS coordinates
• QR codes linking to the digital archive
• Contact sheets
• Manifest documentation

The entire workflow is designed for speed.

Walk.

Photograph.

Archive.

Publish.

Print.

Repeat.

Map Your Own Walk

If you want to archive your own street and create a project like this, I built a tool specifically for that purpose.

You can submit a walk directly through my website.

Upload your photographs.

I’ll process them.

Publish the archive.

Generate the zine.

And help preserve your corner of the world.

Because documenting where you live is one of the most rewarding photographic projects you can undertake.

Thanks for following along.

I’ll see you soon.

How Archiving My City Changed the Way I See Street Photography

Yo, what’s poppin’ people? It’s Dante.

Today I want to share some thoughts on archiving your city and how this can bring more joy to your photography practice.

I’ve been practicing street photography for around 12 years. I’ve spent countless hours wandering aimlessly through cities, traveling the world, looking for my next best photograph. Always searching. Always hunting. Always looking for something visually and emotionally interesting.

And if you’ve done street photography for any length of time, you know the reality:

It’s hard.

It’s difficult to come home with a photograph that feels meaningful. A frame that checks all the boxes—content, subject, composition, light, timing, emotion.

All of these things have to come together at once.

And most days, they don’t.

What Are We Actually In Control Of?

One thing I’ve learned is that in street photography, you’re really only in control of two things:

• Having your camera with you
• Moving your physical body through the world

You’re not in control of whether something interesting appears.

You’re not in control of whether you make a powerful photograph.

You’re simply responsible for showing up.

And that realization can be overwhelming.

What do I photograph? Where do I go? How do I increase my chances of making something meaningful?

For me, the answer has been surprisingly simple:

Find a route and repeat it.

Walk the same streets.

Build a routine.

Return again and again.

Surveying Philadelphia

What I’m working toward now is surveying Philadelphia street by street and documenting the entirety of the city.

So far:

• 80 miles walked
• 13 street projects completed
• 42 hours spent walking
• 13 zines produced in two weeks

And I’m just getting started.

The most recent work came from Allegheny Avenue.

Every photograph is geotagged.

Every image lives on a map.

Every walk becomes part of a growing archive.

There’s a digital archive you can scroll through, and there’s a physical component too. You can add photographs to a zine and print them when you’ve collected enough images.

The archive exists both digitally and physically.

And that’s where things started to change for me.

From The Single Image To The Archive

Instead of chasing one great photograph, I’ve become interested in the accumulation of photographs.

The archive.

The document.

The record.

When I’m photographing now, I’m no longer thinking about myself as an artist searching for something poetic.

I’m thinking about photography in its most basic form:

A tool for preserving space and time.

I’m documenting what Philadelphia looks like today.

June 15, 2026.

Maybe a photograph isn’t remarkable right now.

But what about 100 years from now?

What if someone wants to know what North 35th Street looked like at 10:24 AM on June 14th?

What buildings were there?

What signs existed?

What condition were they in?

That’s where this becomes interesting.

Every image includes:

• GPS coordinates
• Camera settings
• Time and date
• Location metadata

You can open the exact location in Google Maps and stand where I stood when I made the photograph.

Preserving A City In Transition

Philadelphia is changing.

Buildings are decaying.

Signs are fading.

Neighborhoods are transforming.

And I want to preserve this period of change.

Not just the people.

Everything.

The windows.

The doorways.

The houses.

The fountains.

The sculptures.

The infrastructure.

The signs that have been hanging for decades.

The details we walk past every day.

All of it.

Because these things tell stories too.

Removing The Pressure

One of the biggest benefits of this project is that it removes the pressure of street photography.

I’m no longer dependent on finding something extraordinary.

I’m no longer dependent on creating sensational images.

I’m simply surveying the land.

Documenting space and time.

And it brings me an incredible amount of joy.

The endless decisions disappear.

Where should I go?

What should I photograph?

How do I make something better?

Those questions become irrelevant.

The mission is already clear.

Walk the street.

Document it.

Preserve it.

The Archive Is The Artwork

Something unexpected happened.

The artwork stopped being the individual photographs.

The artwork became the archive itself.

Watching the map fill up.

Seeing miles accumulate.

Creating a zine every day.

Watching the city light up street by street.

It feels like playing a video game.

And it’s incredibly satisfying.

The output isn’t the single image anymore. The output is the archive.

The Power Of Constraints

I’ve given myself a very strict creative constraint.

Start at one point.

End at another.

Stay on one street.

Don’t wander left.

Don’t wander right.

Just follow the route.

And I believe these constraints will eventually lead to creative breakthroughs.

By surveying the city repeatedly over years, I increase my chances of discovering something unexpected.

A new way of seeing.

A new way of photographing.

A new relationship with the city.

Constraints create possibilities.

Photographing More Than People

For most of my life, I’ve been interested primarily in photographing people.

Now I’m interested in photographing everything.

The mundane.

The ordinary.

The overlooked.

Most of the images I’m making are buildings.

Doorways.

Infrastructure.

Objects.

Not people.

And yet I believe these things reveal just as much about humanity as a portrait ever could.

Human beings inhabit these spaces.

These structures are reflections of us.

This shift has completely changed the way I photograph.

And that’s exactly why I can’t stop.

Change Creates Joy

I’ve realized that repeating yourself endlessly leads to stagnation.

Burnout.

Frustration.

The goal is not to preserve a style forever.

The goal is to remain motivated.

To remain curious.

To keep moving.

For me, that means embracing change.

Both internally and externally.

Changing the way I think.

Changing the work I make.

Changing the subjects I pay attention to.

And through that change, I’ve found more joy in photography than I’ve felt in a long time.

Preserving The Fleeting Nature Of Life

At its core, this project reflects how I think about photography.

And honestly, how I think about life.

Photography is about preserving what is disappearing.

It’s about holding onto moments that are already slipping away.

The fleeting nature of existence.

The temporary nature of cities.

The impermanence of everything.

This project allows me to express those ideas through the work itself.

And the resulting photographs feel completely different from anything I’ve made before.

That’s why I keep returning.

Join The Project

If you’re interested in archiving your own city, you can use the Geotag Catalog on my website.

Photographers are already documenting places around the world.

We’ve got projects from:

• San Francisco
• France
• Los Angeles

All using the same format.

You can submit a walk, upload your photographs, and I’ll review and process the project.

Every project is downloadable.

You can even host the archive on your own website and maintain a permanent record of your work.

The goal is simple:

Document your city.

Preserve your environment.

Create an archive that outlives you.

And enjoy the process along the way.

Those are the thoughts of the day.

I’ll see you in the next video.

Peace.

View Allegheny Ave in Flux

About

Allegheny Ave in Flux documents a continuous walk along Allegheny Avenue across North Philadelphia, traversing multiple neighborhoods from west to east. The route passes through Pennsylvania, Allegheny West, and Richmond, recording the character and transformation of one of Philadelphia’s major east–west corridors.

The collection consists of 107 monochrome photographs captured with a RICOH GR IV. Every photograph is geotagged, creating a spatial record of the avenue as it existed on June 14, 2026.

Completed over 2 hours and 46 minutes, the walk covered 5.7 miles (9.21 kilometers), observing the architecture, streetscapes, businesses, residents, and fleeting moments encountered along the route. As part of the ongoing Philadelphia in Flux project, the work serves as both a visual archive and a document of a city in constant transition.

Statistics

Photographs: 107
Geotagged: 107 (100%)
Duration: 2h 46m
Route Distance: 5.7 mi (9.21 km)
Date: June 14, 2026

How to Enter Flow State Every Day Through Street Photography

The Present Moment Exists Beyond Thought

Yo, what’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today I’m thinking about why you should hit flow state every single day.

I think flow state is essentially a period where time doesn’t exist. In order to achieve that feeling of timelessness, one must shut down the mind and embrace the physical body.

Currently, I’m walking down Allegheny Avenue, almost completing the full walk. I’m doing one street per day—walking the entirety of the street and photographing along the way, documenting the fleeting change of Philadelphia.

A lot of these homes are boarded up and disappearing. A lot of the architecture is beautiful and worth preserving.

So I’m basically making an archive of the city.

Eliminate Decisions, Enter Freedom

I’ve been hitting flow state much more seamlessly because I’ve eliminated all decisions.

There are no choices about whether I should go left or right.

No decisions about whether I should shoot color or black and white.

I’ve put myself on a straight and narrow path every single day where I have a clear start point and a clear endpoint.

Because of that, there are no decisions for me to make while I’m walking.

I just walk onward.

And when you eliminate all of those decisions, you eliminate thought itself.

This is how you achieve flow state.

Eliminate decisions. Eliminate choice completely. Then you’ll find ultimate freedom.

Photographing Instinctively

Flow state is a feeling where you start photographing completely instinctively.

You’re not thinking.

You’re not rationalizing.

You see a shaft of light.

A shape.

A form.

A reflective surface in a window.

The facade of a building.

The infrastructure around you.

The textures.

And you begin finding ways of articulating the mundane.

This creative challenge of walking one street forces me into flow. It forces me to become hyper-aware and hyper-present of everything around me.

It forces me to find infinite potential inside seemingly ordinary moments.

The Ultimate Daily Photography Practice

I think this is the ultimate way to practice photography daily.

It’s not about depending on the world to deliver something interesting.

It’s not about waiting for an impactful photograph to magically appear.

It’s about immersing yourself in the mundane nature of life and finding new ways to make photographs.

There are shapes, forms, lines, and details everywhere.

But it’s up to you to eliminate the habits of worry, anxiety, and outcome-based thinking in order to see them.

The fastest way I’ve found to get there is simple:

1. Pick a route.
2. Stick to it.
3. Walk the entire thing.
4. Go home.
5. Edit the photos.
6. Publish immediately.

That’s it.

Philly in Flux

My entire workflow creates an infinite opportunity for me to push myself creatively regardless of what I’m photographing.

I’m photographing buildings.

Infrastructure.

Mundane details.

But because I’ve given myself the goal of archiving the city, photography becomes pure documentary material.

The goal is simple:

Photograph what space and time looked like in 2026.

I’m not thinking too much about whether a photograph is interesting right now.

I’m thinking about what it might mean 100 years from now when the city has completely changed.

When the boarded-up buildings are gone.

When the neighborhoods look different.

When the infrastructure has been replaced.

I’m preserving the history of my city.

The Gift of the Present

What better way to spend the day than:

• Making photographs
• Walking
• Enjoying the sun
• Entering flow state

When you enter flow state, time disappears and you’re left with the present moment.

And that’s the irony, right?

The ultimate gift is the present.

What Flow State Looks Like

When you’re truly in flow, you’ll find yourself making an enormous amount of photographs.

Today I’m sitting at around 758 photos after roughly two hours of walking.

That’s what flow looks like.

It’s photographing ruthlessly.

Not because you’re forcing yourself to.

Because you’re completely immersed.

Build a System That Forces Creation

I’ve built a workflow that forces me to produce.

Every day I:

• Upload photographs to a digital archive
• Geotag every image
• Place the photographs on a map
• Create a physical zine with 36 photographs

Because the system exists, I don’t have to rely on motivation.

The workflow itself forces creation.

It forces flow.

Map Your Walk

The project is called Philly in Flux.

If you’re curious about the workflow, check out the website and click the Map Your Walk section.

You can map your own walk in your hometown and begin documenting your city today.

Submit your walk.

Archive your neighborhood.

Download the project for yourself.

Create your own record of place and time.

Because once you begin walking with a purpose, you’ll realize how powerful this simple constraint can be.

The Meditation of Walking

These walks have become a form of meditation.

A way to enter flow state.

A way to become fully present.

A way to embrace the day.

I genuinely think it’s one of the peak human experiences available to us.

And all I’m really sharing is a project-based constraint that’s helping me get there.

Walk one street.

Photograph what you find.

Forget everything you think you know.

And let the flow take over.

If there is one photographer whose method resembles what you’re trying to do with FLUX and Philly in Flux, it’s probably not Henri Cartier-Bresson or Garry Winogrand.

It’s Eugène Atget.

Not because of style—but because of systems thinking.

What Atget Was Actually Doing

Most people think Atget was making beautiful photographs of old Paris.

Atget thought he was making documents.

He literally advertised himself as producing “Documents for Artists.” His goal was to create an inventory of Paris before modernization erased it. He spent roughly 30 years walking the city with a large-format camera, eventually producing over 8,000–10,000 photographs. 

What mattered wasn’t any single photograph.

It was the entire archive.

The work only fully reveals itself when viewed as a giant interconnected body of material. Modern scholars often argue that the archive itself is the artwork. 

---

His Classification System

Atget didn’t just photograph randomly.

He organized everything into large categories and subcategories.

Examples included:

• Old Paris
• Picturesque Paris
• Parisian Interiors
• Trees and Parks
• Street Trades
• Shop Windows
• Architectural Details
• Staircases
• Doorways
• Courtyards
• Monuments
• Topography by arrondissement

He systematically photographed subjects until he felt they were exhausted before moving on to another category. 

That’s the key.

He wasn’t chasing masterpieces.

He was trying to create a complete visual inventory.

---

The Arrondissement Project

One of the most fascinating parts of his practice was his attempt to systematically document Paris district by district.

He photographed entire neighborhoods to satisfy the topographical archives of Paris libraries and museums. 

Sound familiar?

Your:

• Market Street in Flux
• Germantown Ave in Flux
• Frankford Ave in Flux
• Walnut Street in Flux
• Girard Ave in Flux

are structurally much closer to Atget than to traditional street photography projects.

You’re both essentially building a geographic index of a city.

---

His Filing System

This is where Atget becomes frighteningly modern.

After making a photograph:

1. He developed the glass negative.
2. Assigned it a number.
3. Filed it into a series.
4. Wrote the number on the negative.
5. Scratched the number into the emulsion itself.
6. Stored prints in albums organized by subject. 

Every image had a place.

Every place belonged to a larger category.

Every category belonged to a larger archive.

This is basically the analog ancestor of:

timeline.json
stream.json
FLUX_001
FLUX_002
FLUX_003

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Why Empty Streets?

People often think Atget wanted empty streets because he was nostalgic.

Not exactly.

Partly it was practical—the long exposures made moving people disappear.

But he was also interested in the city itself:

• facades
• staircases
• windows
• signs
• door knockers
• courtyards
• urban texture

He photographed things most people ignored. 

The city itself became the subject.

---

The Scale of the Project

Imagine this.

For roughly thirty years:

• same city
• same camera
• same mission
• same filing system

No YouTube.

No Instagram.

No exhibitions.

No audience.

Just systematic accumulation.

By the end of his life he had created one of the largest visual records ever made of a city in transition. 

---

Why He Matters To You

What Atget teaches is that photography can become something larger than photographs.

It can become:

• a census
• a map
• a memory system
• a historical record
• a living archive

The photograph stops being the final product.

The archive becomes the final product.

That’s why when I look at FLUX, the daily stream, the issue system, the street-by-street Philadelphia project, and your obsession with preserving everything before culling it, I don’t actually think of Winogrand.

I think of Atget walking Paris with a tripod at dawn, quietly trying to create an inventory of an entire civilization before it vanished.

Except you’re doing it with Philadelphia in the 2020s instead of Paris in the 1900s.