Today we’re looking at some photographs from Harry Adderhold in today’s Flux Weekly Witness.
These photographs were made on June 21st during what Harry describes as a simple Sunday stroll. The difference this time is that his Ricoh had never been set up like this before. This was his first attempt shooting with the High Contrast Black & White workflow.
Welcome to the Flux Weekly Witness system.
This is what it’s all about—responding to life with instinct.
Trust Your Instincts
Right away, this first photograph makes you stop.
What is even happening here?
Is he balancing the sign on his hand? Throwing it toward the camera?
It’s a strange moment, and that’s exactly why it works.
You can immediately feel the photographer responding instinctively instead of trying to force photographs.
High Contrast Reveals Texture
As we move through the sequence, the high contrast black and white profile really starts doing its job.
Clouds become dramatic.
Brick walls become textured.
Light and shadow begin separating objects naturally.
When you configure the Ricoh this way, you begin seeing the world differently.
Instead of chasing color, you’re looking for:
Light
Shadow
Texture
Form
Those visual elements become much stronger.
Small Gestures Everywhere
I really like these simple responses.
The reflection inside the car window.
The donkey.
The teddy bear with the hands reaching toward it.
Out of the two, I definitely prefer the teddy bear photograph.
The identity of the person disappears, leaving only the gesture.
The composition naturally guides your eye vertically toward the subject, making everything feel clean and intentional.
Don’t Forget to Engage With People
Not everything has to be candid.
This portrait of the gentleman has so much character.
I think it’s important to remember that street photography isn’t only about being the fly on the wall.
Sometimes it’s about approaching someone.
Starting a conversation.
Making a portrait.
Telling the story of the people who make up your town.
Beauty Exists Beyond People
One thing I really enjoy throughout this body of work is the attention given to objects and architecture.
Construction sites.
Sculptures.
Weathered stone.
Infrastructure.
The wear and tear of everyday surfaces becomes incredibly beautiful when photographed in high contrast black and white.
As much as we’re out photographing humanity, don’t forget to photograph the artwork already surrounding you.
Layering Done Right
This layered frame is one of the strongest photographs in the edit.
The foreground.
The middle ground.
The background.
Everything separates cleanly.
The gestures pull your eye across the frame while the sidewalk, brick wall, and contrast naturally divide the image into readable layers.
This is a great example of layering in street photography.
Physical Proximity Creates Impact
There’s one extremely close portrait that immediately stands out.
I don’t even know whether it’s a poster or a real person.
But that’s not really the point.
Its impact comes from proximity.
Sometimes the strongest photograph simply comes from moving physically closer to your subject.
That closeness changes everything.
Looking Beyond the Obvious
One thing I appreciate is how Harry doesn’t only photograph obvious moments.
He notices:
Birds against dramatic skies
Cracked glass
Fountain sculptures
The back of someone’s neck
Tattoos
Feet
Bottles on the ground
People often say photographing the back of someone’s head is boring.
I don’t agree.
Here, the necklace, the rose tattoo, and the surrounding space are enough to carry the photograph.
The Scene Matters Too
One of my favorite photographs isn’t dramatic at all.
Two people standing in front of a wall covered with posters and graffiti.
Neither subject is doing anything extraordinary.
But together with the graphic shapes, textures, typography, and placement inside the frame, the entire composition becomes interesting.
Sometimes the scene elevates ordinary gestures.
Final Frame
The last photograph finishes the sequence perfectly.
A laughing face behind textured glass.
The repeated dots across the window.
The doorway.
The windows behind.
The laughter immediately catches your attention, but it’s the texture and depth surrounding the gesture that make the photograph memorable.
It’s a strong way to finish the series.
Final Thoughts
Harry, great work.
Thanks for submitting these photographs.
If you’d like your work reviewed in a future episode, create your own Flux issue using the Flux Generator.
Simply upload 36 JPEG photographs, and they’ll automatically be organized chronologically, timestamped, and assembled into your own printable Flux issue.
Submit it, and you might see your work featured here on the YouTube channel.
Dante Sisofo’s FLUX is bigger than a photography project. It’s a philosophy, a photographic practice, a publishing protocol, and a living archive built around one idea:everything is in flux.
At its philosophical core is the recognition that you cannot make the same photograph twice. Light changes. People move. You move. The city changes. Time passes. The photograph becomes evidence of one unrepeatable encounter between the photographer and the world. Sisofo describes it simply: “Light is the subject. Everything is in flux.”
FLUX as a way of photographing
FLUX treats photography less as the production of isolated masterpieces and more as a daily way of being: walking, observing, responding, photographing, and continuing onward. The emphasis shifts from perfection toward attention, repetition, instinct, curiosity, and presence. Sisofo’s own description of the practice is essentially: shoot → select → sequence → publish → move on.
That explains why chronology matters so much. Instead of rearranging photographs afterward to manufacture a narrative, FLUX preserves the order in which life actually occurred. An issue becomes a timestamped fragment of lived experience—a photographic diary rather than a conventional portfolio.
FLUX as a system
Sisofo has turned that philosophy into an actual open-source publishing protocol.
A photographer selects 36 JPEGs, drops them into the browser-based FLUX Generator, and the system reads their timestamps, orders them chronologically, generates the publication structure, creates a contact sheet and metadata manifest, and exports a printable PDF. The physical format deliberately requires almost nothing: ordinary 8.5 × 11 paper, double-sided printing, stacked pages and staples.
So FLUX attempts to collapse the traditional photographic workflow:
The point isn’t sophisticated layout software. In fact, the elimination of layout decisions is part of the philosophy. The system tries to remove the friction that can turn photographers into perpetual editors of yesterday’s work rather than people making today’s photographs.
FLUX as an archive
The individual issues accumulate into the FLUX Archive, making the archive itself part of the artwork rather than merely storage for finished photographs.
The archive exposes photographs alongside their chronology and metadata, while individual issues can contain their own PDFs, contact sheets and manifests.
That changes the fundamental unit of the work.
The photograph matters.
The 36-picture issue matters.
But ultimately the accumulating stream matters most.
Sisofo has explicitly contrasted this with his earlier closed color archive: the older archive represents a completed past, whereas FLUX is conceived as a living system—process over perfection, movement over finality.
And FLUX can extend beyond Dante
This is one of the most interesting parts.
FLUX isn’t defined exclusively as Dante Sisofo’s photographs. The protocol can be used by another photographer. The Broad Street in FLUX experiment demonstrated this by having two photographers traverse the same Philadelphia street under the same general framework while producing distinctly different pictures.
The project’s formulation captures the idea beautifully:
“The river is shared. The seeing is not.”
That makes FLUX closer to a photographic methodology or movement than simply the title of a body of work.
Someone else can practice FLUX without seeing like Dante.
So if I had to reduce the whole thing to one definition:
FLUX is a system for turning the continuous experience of living into a continuous photographic record.
The camera captures the moment. Chronology preserves it. The issue publishes it. The archive remembers it. Then the photographer keeps moving.
And philosophically, that’s the point: there is no final photograph because there is no final moment. Everything is becoming.
Today I want to share some thoughts on how I’ve been shooting high contrast black and white photography for over three years now—and what I’ve learned.
I’ve been photographing for around 12 years. For the first seven years, I photographed in color, making RAW files in a documentary, humanist approach.
But over the past three and a half years, I’ve been shooting high contrast black and white JPEGs.
No friction. No processing. No bullshit.
Honestly, this has completely transformed my practice.
The Power of Abstraction
It’s incredible what stripping away the complexity of color can do.
After more than three years of dedicated practice, I can confidently say why.
Black and white naturally abstracts reality.
We see the world in color.
Life is color.
We don’t experience reality in black and white.
And that’s exactly where its superpower lies.
It has accelerated my growth as a photographer because every day now feels like day one.
There’s always infinite potential to evolve.
Simply by removing color, I can walk through an ordinary, seemingly mundane place and discover something entirely new.
The interaction of light and shadow.
Shape and form.
Contrast.
All of these elements become elevated through abstraction.
Suddenly, there’s always another way to play the game.
Beyond Reality
To me, the ultimate gift of photography lies in spontaneity.
It lives in surprise.
It lives in mistakes.
It lives in imperfection.
When I photographed in color, what I saw was essentially what I got.
But black and white gives me something different.
When you photograph in black and white, what you get back is what you didn’t see.
You’re going beyond reality.
That surprise has become my greatest motivation to continue making photographs.
It’s the reason I adopted this workflow in the first place.
I had hit a wall.
I no longer saw room to grow.
So I simplified everything.
Not just so I could improve—but so I could sustain photography for the rest of my life.
Removing Every Point of Friction
I never want to burn out.
And I realized the best way to avoid burnout was to remove everything unnecessary.
No RAW files.
No endless hard drives.
No complicated editing.
No Lightroom.
Just a small JPEG workflow with the contrast pushed to the extreme.
Everything lives on my iPad.
I import directly into the Photos app using a USB-C dongle.
That’s it.
The entire practice has been reduced to its simplest form.
Drawing With Light
Photography literally means drawing with light.
When I photograph with high contrast black and white, it feels like I’m creating an instant sketch made entirely of light itself.
Even traditional black and white photography contains layers of tonal complexity.
But by pushing the contrast to the maximum, those complexities disappear.
Everything becomes immediate.
Fast.
Simple.
Frictionless.
With automatic settings on the Ricoh GR, I simply press the shutter and the image already exists.
But the beauty is that the photograph always surprises me.
The camera reveals something I couldn’t fully see with my own eyes.
And that’s what keeps me curious.
Curiosity Over Perfection
At the end of the day, I’m simply curious about what life looks like photographed.
If I shoot in color…
I already know.
But black and white introduces uncertainty.
It introduces wonder.
And ultimately, this entire practice is about cultivating curiosity.
It’s about approaching everyday life with a sense of discovery.
400,000 Frames
Over the past three and a half years, I’ve made around 400,000 photographs.
Every single one of them fits comfortably on a 2TB iPad Pro.
No complicated backup systems.
No massive storage costs.
No unnecessary software.
Everything remains lightweight.
Everything remains accessible.
Printing Has Never Been Easier
The simplicity extends into printing.
A small JPEG easily produces a beautiful 17×22 inch print on my Canon Pro-1000.
The files remain tack sharp.
But honestly, some of my favorite prints aren’t expensive at all.
I love printing on ordinary copy paper.
Monochrome laser printers.
DIY zines.
Staples copy paper.
The imperfections of toner.
The texture.
The slight inconsistencies.
They feel honest.
They feel alive.
High contrast black and white looks beautiful on almost anything.
I’ve printed on:
Shirts
Thermal printers
Label makers
Stickers
Office copy paper
The medium simply adapts.
The technical friction disappears.
Looking Beyond Reality
This workflow hasn’t only changed my technical process.
It’s changed how I see the world.
Now it feels like I’m looking beyond ordinary reality.
Every moment feels interesting.
Not because the subject is extraordinary.
But because black and white continually surprises me.
I’m no longer dependent on:
Interesting locations
Interesting subjects
Perfect conditions
Instead, I focus on something much more important.
My instincts.
Style Comes From Instinct
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is this:
High contrast black and white is one of the fastest ways to cultivate instinct.
When you remove technical friction, you naturally begin responding from your gut.
And I believe that’s where authentic style comes from.
I don’t think style comes from choosing color or black and white.
Style comes from consistency.
Repetition.
Responding to your instincts over and over again.
Eventually, thinking disappears.
Only instinct remains.
Photography Without Thinking
These days, I photograph loosely.
Spontaneously.
Using the LCD screen.
Rarely bringing the camera to my eye.
I respond from my body rather than my intellect.
Over time, that consistent relationship with instinct becomes your visual language.
That’s what I love most about this practice.
Everything unnecessary fades away.
Only seeing remains.
The Simplest Way to Practice Photography
My theory is simple.
This is the simplest way to practice photography in 2026.
I honestly don’t believe you can strip the medium down any further than:
A Ricoh GR
High contrast black and white
Small JPEG files
No editing
No friction
Everything else becomes secondary.
Because the real practice isn’t about technology.
It’s about cultivating your instincts.
The simpler the process becomes, the easier it is to hear your own voice.
Final Thoughts
Shooting high contrast black and white photography for the past three years has completely transformed both my life and my daily practice.
It’s simplified everything.
Technically.
Philosophically.
Creatively.
Most importantly, it’s allowed me to approach photography with curiosity instead of expectation.
And that’s the practice I want to sustain for the rest of my life.
Cain and Abel were the first two sons of Adam and Eve. Their story is told in Genesis 4:1–16, shortly after humanity’s expulsion from the Garden of Eden.
Cain became a farmer, working the ground.
Abel became a shepherd, tending sheep.
In time, both brothers brought offerings to God.
Cain brought fruit from the ground.
Abel brought the firstborn of his flock and their fat portions.
God regarded Abel and his offering favorably, but Cain and his offering were not regarded in the same way.
Cain became angry.
God saw what was happening within him and warned him:
“Sin is crouching at the door… but you must rule over it.”
— Genesis 4:7
This is the turning point of the story.
Cain had not yet murdered his brother. He was angry, jealous, and wounded—but he still had a choice.
He could master what was growing inside of him.
Or he could allow it to master him.
Cain chose the latter.
He brought Abel into the field and murdered his own brother.
It was the first murder recorded in Scripture.
God then asked Cain:
“Where is Abel your brother?”
Cain answered:
“I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?”
But God already knew.
He told Cain:
“The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground.”
There is something profound about this.
Cain was a man of the ground.
He worked it.
He cultivated it.
He depended upon it.
And now that same ground had received the blood of his brother.
God declared that the ground would no longer yield its strength to Cain. Cain would become a fugitive and wanderer upon the earth.
Cain feared that someone would eventually find him and kill him.
Yet God did something surprising.
God protected Cain.
He placed a mark upon Cain and warned that anyone who killed him would suffer vengeance sevenfold.
Cain faced the consequences of his actions, but God did not permit humanity to descend into an endless cycle of murder and revenge.
Am I My Brother’s Keeper?
Cain’s question becomes one of the great questions of Scripture:
“Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The story itself gives us the answer.
Yes.
We are responsible for how we treat one another.
Cain looked at Abel and saw a competitor.
His brother’s blessing became a source of resentment.
Resentment became anger.
Anger became hatred.
And hatred eventually became murder.
But the most important moment in the story happens before the murder.
God warns Cain.
Sin is crouching at the door.
Cain still has the ability to choose.
That is perhaps the greatest moral teaching of the story:
Do not wait until anger becomes hatred.
Do not wait until jealousy becomes resentment.
Do not allow darkness within your heart to grow unchecked.
Recognize it while it is still crouching at the door.
And master it before it masters you.
Abel and Christ
Abel’s story continues throughout Scripture.
Jesus later refers to him as “righteous Abel” in Matthew 23:35.
Hebrews 11:4 tells us:
“By faith Abel offered to God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain.”
And Hebrews later makes an extraordinary connection between Abel and Jesus Christ.
Hebrews 12:24 speaks of the blood of Christ as:
“the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.”
Abel’s innocent blood cries from the earth for justice.
Christ’s innocent blood speaks of mercy, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
There is therefore a powerful movement running through Scripture:
Eden → the Fall → jealousy → murder → blood crying for justice → Christ offering reconciliation.
Cain asks:
“Am I my brother’s keeper?”
Christ ultimately shows us what the answer looks like.
Found a fair amount on the site. Your position, in short: gut health is foundational, and it’s mainly a gut-brain argument.
The core claims across the posts:
• The gut and brain are linked, and an upset gut inevitably makes you upset too — you credit diet changes with improving cognitive function and clarity of thought.
• You frame poor “mental health” as something that fades once you’re having proper bowel movements every morning.
• On carnivore specifically, you push back on the idea that red meat wrecks digestion — you report clockwork regularity and no gas, and attribute it to cutting carbs, sugar, and dairy.
• Sugar and processed food get the strongest language: cravings for cookies, chips, and candy are a signal something’s off, and those foods should repulse rather than attract.
• You do make room for probiotics — kimchi comes up as strengthening the gut-brain link, and elsewhere you compare Costco kimchi unfavorably to what you get from Sue’s Produce in Philadelphia.
• On the mechanism, you lay out the gut-brain axis in the carbohydrate post: processed carbs disrupting microbiota, inflammation, insulin resistance, leaky gut.
Currently experimenting with some video right now along the streets of Philadelphia, shooting with the Sony DCR-SR40, which is an extremely fun Handycam system that I’ve been experimenting with.
And as you can see, I’m getting extremely close to things by using the built-in optical zoom. I can get extremely close in proximity to everything around me.
And the simple thought of the day is, when photographing, when making videos of things, think more critically about how the camera is interpreting reality.
We have two eyes that see everything, but how can you use the camera to go beyond reality through seeing how the camera sees?
Transform the way you look at life by experiencing it through photography.
I’m out for my morning walk through Penn’s Landing, and I wanted to share some thoughts about how photography has completely transformed the way that I engage with humanity, reality, and my everyday life.
Photography Augments Your Life
The power of photography lies in its ability to expand your life.
Every time you create something—a photograph, a video, a print, or even a digital file—you allow your life to grow a little larger.
I think about it this way:
With every click of the shutter, your archive expands.
How many photographs have you made today?
How many have you made this year?
Each image becomes another piece of your lived experience.
And strangely enough, the more I photograph, the more I feel like I become.
The Camera Is a Tool for Discovery
Photography isn’t just about making pictures.
It’s an act of discovery.
An act of learning.
Or maybe even more importantly…
An act of unlearning.
When I walk outside with my camera, I try to forget everything I think I know.
I try to look at the world with a childlike sense of wonder.
Every walk becomes an opportunity to see reality from a completely fresh perspective.
You Don’t Need to Go Anywhere Extraordinary
One of the beautiful things about photography is that you don’t have to travel across the world.
You can photograph the flowers in your backyard.
You can study the way light falls across a wall.
You can change your position, move your body, and suddenly discover an entirely new composition.
The possibilities are endless.
Even if life feels ordinary…
Photography makes it extraordinary.
Returning to the Same Place
I could walk this same river every day for the rest of my life.
And every single time…
I’d see something different.
Not because the river changes.
Because I change.
Every time I return, I’m a different person.
That’s why photography feels like a continual process of unlearning.
Reality stays familiar.
But your way of seeing never does.
Walking Without a Destination
Most people walk because they have somewhere to be.
They’re moving from point A to point B.
Photography changes that.
The camera gives you permission to wander.
To embrace spontaneity.
To welcome serendipity.
To remain open to whatever waits around the next corner.
You can take a bus.
A train.
A plane.
Or simply walk with your own two feet.
Wherever you go, there’s always something worth seeing.
Photography as an Affirmation of Life
One of the simplest ways I think about photography is this:
Every photograph says:
“Yes. I was here. I saw this. I experienced this.”
Photography becomes an affirmation of life itself.
You’re acknowledging a moment that otherwise would have disappeared forever.
That simple act transforms the way you engage with reality.
Remembering Through Photographs
Photography makes life feel rich with meaning.
The act of photographing is an act of remembering.
When you place four corners around a moment…
You’re preserving it.
You’re stamping that experience into time.
And over the years, those moments accumulate into something much larger than a collection of images.
They become your life.
The Real Byproduct of Photography
Photography has become much more than making strong compositions or telling visual stories.
The real gift is the byproduct.
Walking feels good.
Being outside feels good.
Feeling the sun on your skin feels good.
Watching people move through the city feels good.
Looking toward the horizon feels good.
Maybe that’s ultimately why I photograph.
Because photography simply makes me feel good.
And I think we should spend more time doing things that genuinely enrich our lives.
Movement Is Happiness
Photography is physical.
It requires movement.
It asks you to explore.
To walk.
To notice.
To engage with the world.
Movement feels right.
Movement feels alive.
Photography pulls me out of my mind and back into my body.
And that’s where I feel most at home.
Beginning Again Every Day
Photography has transformed my life because it allows me to begin each day from a blank slate.
Everything feels fresh.
Everything feels new.
There’s always more to learn.
More to explore.
More to notice.
Life exists outside your window.
Life exists beyond the four corners of the frame.
The only thing left to do…
Is step outside.
Final Thoughts
For me, photography is a way to stay engaged with reality.
A way to continually rediscover the world.
A way to augment my life.
Every photograph isn’t just another image.
It’s another way of seeing.
And perhaps that’s what makes photography such a beautiful way to experience being alive.
Hello everyone, it’s Tomasz here from FRAMES Magazine. I am back with another conversation. My guest today is Dante Sisofo, a photographer from Philadelphia whose work is built around instinct, repetition, curiosity, and complete immersion in everyday life.
We talk about photographing the same streets again and again, stepping away from likes and outside validation, embracing imperfection, and trying to remain an amateur forever. It’s about photography, of course, but even more about why we keep doing it.
I hope very much you will enjoy my conversation with Dante Sisofo.
A Personal Connection
Tomasz
Dante, good morning. I mean, I guess good morning for you — it’s afternoon over here in Switzerland. Great to have you here on FRAMES.
Just a couple of words before we start talking. As I told you a couple of minutes ago, I think I discovered your work a couple of years ago, and then somehow you disappeared from my radar. And just recently, a couple of weeks ago, I rediscovered it — through your YouTube channel, through your movies, and of course through your images, which you also present in those videos.
This is a special interview for me, a special conversation, because not only do I absolutely love the work you do and respect it and connect with it, but this is very personal for me. And apologies to all of you watching — this will probably get a little bit personal from time to time today, because I connect with your work on a level where it directly connects with the way I approach photography these days. Not only in terms of street, black and white, spontaneous moments, but somehow the approach to the entire process — the dynamics of what it all actually means for us, what it is for us, how it overlaps or connects with our lives, all together.
Okay, I’ll stop rambling for now. You are connecting from Philadelphia, right?
Dante
Correct, correct. Yeah, I’m based here in Philadelphia, born and raised here in the United States. Thank you for having me on, Tomasz. I appreciate it.
Photographing Life
Tomasz
Oh, it’s wonderful. I have so many questions — these are my notes, my questions. I was thinking for a couple of days how to even start this interview with you, because I have so many questions. But let me start with a simple question — simple in quotation marks, of course. I can’t wait for your answer.
When somebody asks you — let’s say they know you’re a photographer — but when somebody asks you what it is that you actually photograph, how would you answer this person?
Dante
Well, my main interest in photography has always been humanity, and so I photograph life primarily. But recently, over the past four years photographing in black and white, my interest has been more about my internal, subjective interpretation of the world. So when I’m photographing, I’m looking to create an expressive image and perhaps evoke an emotional feeling through the imagery.
While I’m working in the streets and photographing the external world, my photographs become a reflection of my internal world. So it’s more about the feeling that I have on the streets that I’m expressing through images. I’m photographing life, but I’m photographing myself as well.
“I’m photographing life, but I’m photographing myself as well.”
Tomasz
It comes across very strongly, and you speak about it quite often in your videos. So when you’re out there on the street, walking, observing the surroundings, using your eyes — when this moment comes that you feel you have to press the shutter, is it more about what you see, or is it more about what you feel internally? Where is this overlap? Where is this trigger happening for you?
Dante
So my real underlying interest when I go to photograph something has more to do with the fact that, while I’m looking at life with my eyes, the camera is interpreting reality. A lot of the time, when I go to throw the camera at something and photograph from my instinct, I’m just curious about how life and light will look photographed through the camera’s interpretation of things.
So it’s more about me going beyond reality and trying to discover new things within the mundane through the way the camera sees the world. I’m operating the camera, but the camera’s interpretation interests me.
Photography as a Physical Experience
Tomasz
Okay, I understand it, and I can relate to it very, very well. It’s about the output, about the excitement, about the unknown. Some photographers in the past talked about it — I think it was Dorothea Lange, maybe, who said something like she can’t wait to see how it looks in the photograph. But this is the output, right? This is the final image.
But what has to happen to you emotionally — based on visuals, or emotions, or a combination of the two — what has to happen that you decide to press the shutter in that moment?
Dante
It could be the light, it could be a gesture, it could be a texture on the wall. But that primary pull that I feel comes from a state of vitality. There’s this feeling I get when I arrive at the flow state, and that flow state occurs when I’m not in my head and I’m not thinking, but there’s a physical pull in my body to move toward something to photograph. It’s a little bit hard to articulate or share with words, because it’s a very physical, somatic experience.
When I shut off my mind and I enter my body on the streets, my body intuitively tells me to photograph things. It’s not really a rational decision. I can’t really share it with words, but there’s this state of being where I become one with the environment, and I photograph from that state.
“When I shut off my mind and I enter my body on the streets, my body intuitively tells me to photograph things.”
Tomasz
So it is an emotional sensation. It’s a physical feeling.
Dante
It’s a physical feeling from the gut, I think. It’s something that I feel in my body. It’s not necessarily a rational decision from my brain.
Tomasz
Goosebumps, many times.
Dante
Sometimes I feel really overwhelmed when I’m walking the streets, because I’m really in the moment and I’m enjoying the day, the sunlight, the people, the environment. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like time exists, and I feel so present. I think that’s why I love photography — because it puts me in the moment. That’s where I start to photograph from, that state where I’m not in my mind, essentially.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like time exists, and I feel so present.”
Tomasz
So you photograph daily, I imagine? Or you have the camera with you at all times.
Dante
Yeah, the camera is always with me. It’s rare—
Walking the Same Streets
Tomasz
Yeah, we’ll get to this one. Okay, let me collect my thoughts, because this is so exciting for me — I can relate to so many aspects of your approach. You photograph these days, and have for a while now, with a small Ricoh GR, right? In black and white predominantly, very contrasty images. Do you walk the same streets very often?
Dante
Yeah, I pretty much walk the same routine walk every single day, and I’ve been doing it for nearly four years straight. I’ve been purposely walking the very mundane street that I walk every day.
Tomasz
So — you know that many people, many photographers, struggle with the idea of finding anything exciting to photograph in their own area, in their own neighborhood. They just don’t see things. What is it for you? What surprises you, or what kind of moments do you find on the same street every day? Is it more details? Is it new people walking by? What happens that you don’t get bored?
Dante
I would say that my mindset and my approach to how I physically walk on the street is influencing my ability to photograph the same street every day. For instance, when I’m walking, I’m walking at an extremely slow pace — around 75% slower than everybody around me. So I become hyper-aware of the smallest details, whether it’s the shaft of light or the people.
From that slow walk, I start to see more, and then I ultimately photograph more. I realized that through walking the same street every day, everything is changing around me. New bus stops are being built, new buildings are popping up, the people are always in flux and changing. And every single day I return to the streets as a new person.
I think the mindset shift — where I’m recognizing the infinite possibility in the mundane — is what’s getting me there. And I find it’s arriving from this state of flux and change that exists all around me.
“Every single day I return to the streets as a new person.”
Shoot First, Ask Questions Later
Tomasz
And the moment when you notice something — correct me if I’m wrong — while still looking just with your eyes, I could imagine you just go for it. You loosely frame it, you just react, camera toward the direction. You don’t hesitate, right? You take the image.
Dante
Yeah, I pretty much just shoot first and ask questions later. A lot of the time it’s a physical act, where I just move the camera in the direction. Because I use the same focal length every day, I know where to stand, and I know how to frame things without looking through the viewfinder a lot of the time.
Tomasz
Exactly. This is a very interesting moment to mention something. You’ll be familiar with a photographer from Japan, Shin Noguchi.
Dante
Yes.
Tomasz
There was a very interesting interview with him — I guess they organize awards, and he is the juror there, on the competition. He mentioned that for him, shooting without looking through the viewfinder is almost a no-go. But his reasoning was interesting. He mentioned that he doesn’t want to hide the fact that he’s a photographer from the people around him. So the act of actually looking through the viewfinder, and presenting himself as a photographer to the people around him, is an important part.
Dante
Mhm.
Tomasz
But then I immediately thought about it: if you do use the viewfinder, most probably your framing, your composing of the image, automatically becomes more conscious, more exact. I can imagine, with you, with your Ricoh GR, that framing and exact composition — taking care of what’s at the edge of the frame — is not of utmost importance, right? Am I right?
Dante
Yeah, I would say I still have an understanding of the formalities of composition, and synthesizing with the content and the emotional quality, but I’m really less interested in presenting the perfect image. I’ve been leaning more toward the imperfect frame, as that’s how we experience life. I find it reflects the raw, authentic, spontaneous nature of what it’s like to be on the street. So my approach is to photograph quickly and intuitively, with speed, and move on to the next one. That way I can evoke that raw, spontaneous feeling in the imagery.
“I’ve been leaning more toward the imperfect frame, as that’s how we experience life.”
Tomasz
And — we already talked about it before recording — connecting the dots, there is automatically this sort of connection which I drew between your kind of work and Daido Moriyama from Japan. He happens to be another Japanese photographer walking the streets of Tokyo to this day, also maybe with a Ricoh GR occasionally.
Dante
Mhm.
Tomasz
Completely spontaneous, and never looking at the viewfinder, at the LCD screen — knowing his camera in and out. There are a couple of videos of him walking; you can see his technique, his approach, basically noticing something within a millisecond, just pointing the camera in that direction, pressing the shutter. But how does it work for you? I can also imagine you shoot a lot. We can see it on your website — you have the Flux, Philadelphia, Philly in Flux, right? The project.
400,000 Frames
Dante
Yeah, that’s a new project that I’m working on, where I’m systematically archiving street by street — every street in my city. My Flux Archive is a collection of the work I’ve been making in black and white over the past four years, and I’ve reached nearly 400,000 frames throughout the past four years clicking the shutter.
Tomasz
Okay, so it’s thousands of frames — probably more, thousands of them. And now, do you at all engage in a process of selection and editing?
Editing and Selection
Dante
Lately I’ve been selecting photos and putting them together in my own personal zines. I created a system for my output in photography where I’m creating 36-picture zines with my own black-and-white monochrome printer and cheap copy paper. I’ve been stapling them and printing them and storing them in manila folders that I actually have with me, and I’ve been viewing the work chronologically as a solution to the way that I experience my photography.
I’ve been printing the work and collecting the work, and every single day when I come home from photographing, I import the photographs right away, I make instant selections, I back them up, and I move on. Eventually, at the end of the year, I’ll go through and cull through those images. But I’m always on top of going through it.
Tomasz
Okay. And the ones you don’t select — are they going immediately? You’re deleting them?
Dante
I back them up. I have them on an external hard drive. Mostly, on my Flux Archive, I have maybe 10,000 images that I’ve pulled down to some degree. I think that for me, it’s less about creating the perfect curated body of work, but more about the endless stream of imagery. So it’s not necessarily about me making my next best picture, or looking for that picture, but just continuously making pictures.
“It’s less about creating the perfect curated body of work, but more about the endless stream of imagery.”
Tomasz
So what is, for you — when compared with each other — the importance of a single image and a big body of work, or maybe an ongoing process? Does the single image still matter a lot, and if yes, in what way?
Dante
I think that in my previous way of working — traveling the world, working within the documentary approach and hunting for single images — I hit this point in my process where I realized that this pursuit leads to a bit of burnout. It’s very difficult to achieve that kind of output. I’ve been photographing for a little over a decade now, and I realized over that journey that to get those single images, it requires a lot of time spent doing the thing.
So I’ve detached myself from the single image as a way for me to continue photographing with longevity. The importance of the single image is there, but my relationship to it has changed. They’re far and few between. I know they will come, but I’m not necessarily attached to that. I’m more interested in the stream of images, and how I can essentially change each day and make something new.
Tomasz
Okay. But still — what happens in the evening? You say you come back in the evening, downloading those images, making your selection, which means you are evaluating each individual frame in some way, right?
Dante
Yeah, I’m looking through my images every day, and I’m picking the ones that stand out to me immediately. I look at my photos as small thumbnails — typically like what you see on my wall behind me — but I make the selections very quickly. I’m not thinking about it too much. I try to just make those selections quickly, to the pile.
Tomasz
It’s incredible. Right now you’re like a carbon copy of how I work. It’s just crazy. It’s basically scary — also high-contrast black and white, and everything. So what does it have to be in this single frame that you keep? After you go through, what is it that makes you decide to keep one?
Dante
I think lately my photography has been about simplification. I’m looking to remove more from the frame and then reveal the essence of it — whether it’s the formalities of the composition, the shape, the gesture, or the emotion on the face. The images that I typically select stand out to me as a small thumbnail that I can easily read and that has some sort of visual impact. So I’m more about removing more from the frame and simplifying things. That’s usually what I’m drawn to these days — simplification and the removal of clutter.
“I’m looking to remove more from the frame and then reveal the essence of it.”
Tomasz
So are the thumbnails really small on the screen?
Dante
Yeah, I use an iPad Pro with a 3×3 grid when I go through my images, and then I print them small here on my wall, and I have thumbnails all over the floor here.
Leaving Instagram
Tomasz
Switching gears a little bit. You used to have an Instagram account. You don’t have it anymore, right?
Dante
Yeah, deleted it a couple of years ago. Or — yeah, a couple of years ago, I guess.
Tomasz
What I find also very interesting — because that’s how I rediscovered you, actually, through YouTube — as far as, correct me if I’m wrong, you have the comments section on YouTube switched off.
Dante
I do, yeah.
Tomasz
How important is the feedback loop for you, if at all? You still present your images to the world — they’re on YouTube, they’re on your website, for those who know it. I hope after the interview more people will know about the website. But what about the feedback flow? What’s the importance of the reactions of whoever is looking at your photographs?
Dante
I purposely disabled comments and likes from my YouTube channel, and have gone off the grid of Instagram, because I found that when I have feedback — whether it was good or bad — it really does influence me. When I see imagery and I’m constantly bombarded with these things, it distracts me from my own way of photographing. So I purposely decided to stop consuming contemporary photography, and to simply stop engaging with the feedback loop.
That act alone has completely transformed my relationship to the medium and to life itself. I’m really grateful to have removed myself from feedback, because it’s allowed me to experiment without the distraction and noise of what my peers think about what I’m doing. It’s a very radical, personal decision for me to do this, and I’m honestly really grateful for doing it, because it’s allowed me to transform and evolve. And I’ve been doing it publicly, I guess you could say.
“That act alone has completely transformed my relationship to the medium and to life itself.”
Tomasz
This is very interesting. On one hand, you are detaching yourself, or switching off the possibilities of receiving feedback from people, but you are still putting the work out there into the public. I mean, you could be just keeping it all on your hard drive, or printing it and keeping it in your drawers. How is it for us artists? Why do you think you still present them, even if you don’t necessarily know who reacts, and how, to your photographs — but you still put them out, right?
Dante
I mostly publish my photographs themselves on a website page, but YouTube for me has been more of a medium of note-taking, where I typically record my thoughts candidly and share them online. It simply became a place for me to host all of this video content and all of my thoughts and ideas.
The way that I approach photography is as a personal visual diary, and the way I approach sharing things is in a similar vein — I’m sharing my diary thoughts publicly, and if somebody’s interested, they can tune in. Typically I’m more interested in engaging with one individual who understands what I’m doing than a million people who are just liking the work. So I’m trying to share that raw thought behind my process on YouTube. It’s become more of a personal, selfish way of me sharing, so that I can discover my own voice, basically.
“Typically I’m more interested in engaging with one individual who understands what I’m doing than a million people who are just liking the work.”
Tomasz
I was about to say — I found you and I wanted to connect. So I can imagine that occasionally there’s an individual, a photographer, who really resonates, and you probably just get a message from them, and then you connect, right? It’s actually a perfect way of filtering all of that stream of social media comments and likes down to the most valuable connections, right?
I respect you very much for making those radical decisions. It’s not easy for everyone. For most of us it’s not easy. We strive for those stupid likes, for those good comments. Sure, it helps us grow, it helps us, it maybe boosts the confidence if the feedback is fine. But on the other hand, like you say, I can also understand that all this influence of social media, and seeing all of those different kinds of works, can distract us from doing what we actually want to do. But — you said you don’t consume any other photography work at all these days? Or do you still look at books and other work?
Dante
I have a collection of photo books at home, but in terms of contemporary photography, and just consuming things online generally, I’ve neglected it and have been mostly just producing ruthlessly. My current book that I go back to is one I found in an old bookshop in Old City, Philadelphia. It’s The World of Atget, curated by Berenice Abbott. I’m very much inspired by Eugène Atget’s systematic approach to documenting the streets of Paris. That imagery has been sitting with me over the past four years of my black-and-white journey, and has been my direct source of inspiration photographically.
“In terms of contemporary photography, and just consuming things online generally, I’ve neglected it and have been mostly just producing ruthlessly.”
Philly in Flux
Tomasz
So, back to your Philly in Flux project. You shoot hundreds of thousands of images. Now imagine this project will go on for decades. Let’s say for decades — do you have any hope? Is it more that in those couple of decades those photographs will say more — if somebody discovers them, maybe you publish them in some way — will they say more about Philadelphia, or will they say more about yourself?
Dante
Well, I think there’s going to be a sense of both. My personal interpretation of Philadelphia is obviously going to be on display. But lately, the way I’m documenting things along these particular streets for this Philly in Flux project is less about me inserting myself in the photograph, and almost more about me trying to remove myself from the photograph, so that the image I make is almost a matter of fact.
I’m timestamping my photographs with captions that showcase the time and the date that the photograph was made. So I’m adopting the approach of simply documenting life as it is, while simultaneously having my own aesthetic sensitivities that will obviously arise with my decisions about how I compose things through my eyes. I would hope that the work resonates beyond just Dante observing life — more about the essence of what Philadelphia is. That’s my thought on that.
Tomasz
But it’s still very much your Philadelphia, right? Because these are still those images — very often very rough images, details, not necessarily street scenes, like “this is the corner of this and that avenue.” It’s something very personal still, right?
Dante
Absolutely, yeah.
High-Contrast Black & White
Tomasz
Okay. Just briefly — we don’t usually talk here on FRAMES about cameras and lenses and gear, but—
Dante
Yeah, it’s okay.
Tomasz
The funny thing is, I just told you I shoot myself very often with the Fujifilm X70.
Dante
Mhm.
Tomasz
I also own the Ricoh GR, which — after seeing your work — I grabbed again, I have to admit, a couple of days ago. I experimented with the black-and-white high-contrast mode. You shoot a lot in this high-contrast mode. You also shoot in JPEGs, and so on — a very streamlined, simple process. Why? What about the visual language, and the choice of this very high-contrast black and white? Does it resonate with some idea of yours, of how to portray life and the city? Was it a very conscious choice?
Dante
Honestly, originally it became a very technical decision. The amount of photographs that I shoot just stacking up — having this backlog on hard drives, and the processing times — became really cumbersome for me. So choosing the compact camera was a very conscious decision, as I can slip it in my pocket and always have it with me. And shooting with small JPEGs and high contrast just simplifies things even further, where what you see is what you get. I don’t process my photos.
But the interesting fact is that what I get back in the photograph, a lot of the time, is what I didn’t see. So the use of high-contrast black-and-white photography allows this unrepeatable process for me, where the simple change of light can create a completely different image of the same exact scene, or the same exact thing. Pushing the contrast to the extremes unlocks this ability for me to photograph endlessly. It’s a very personal, technical decision, while simultaneously aligning with my philosophy around photography and my embrace of that immediate instinct and imperfection.
“What I get back in the photograph, a lot of the time, is what I didn’t see.”
Becoming an Amateur Forever
Tomasz
I just had this thought — it’s super fascinating that, like you say, in a way there’s a part of surprise when you look at the final image and maybe discover things you didn’t see. At the same time, we often say that we, as photographers, are trying to somehow project our vision, our way of looking — the things we notice, and only we notice — onto our images. I feel like you are surfing in between those two approaches. Is it, in the end, your signature image and style? You see something, you want to photograph it, but then maybe in the image there’s also something else which you didn’t see. Where is the conscious decision about taking this frame?
Dante
Right. Once again, it’s an instinct. It’s a physical, embodied experience, and I think you can only know it if you experience it. I have a strong understanding of the visual language of photography through my studies, and through my experience traveling and making my own strong, composed frames. I did that for around seven years. So the past four years is me breaking everything that I think I know about photography, so that I can endlessly, continuously become curious and discover new things. The goal for me is to return to day one and never master photography. I want to be an amateur forever, essentially, and just always learn.
“The goal for me is to return to day one and never master photography. I want to be an amateur forever.”
Tomasz
So was it a moment when you switched gears completely? You just felt like you’d had enough, and you were kind of stuck — was it a dead-end moment for you, and you had to crush it all and start new?
Dante
Yeah, it became a little bit strange for me. I was walking around Hanoi, Vietnam, and I had the camera on my neck, and I was going to these bustling markets, looking for these interesting scenes and trying to photograph something that I hadn’t before. But I realized I’m continually photographing what I already have before. I wanted to break through and create something new. So I decided to radically reapproach things from the ground up and return to a simplified process, essentially.
Photography Without Validation
Tomasz
I love it. I love this story — this whole circle. I have a couple of images of yours. I did my best to choose four from, you know, x-thousands of them. But before we jump into the images, just one very last question, because I just watched the video you posted — I think half an hour ago — from one of your books, where you played with the idea of completely detaching yourself from your output. You even asked the rhetorical question: how would it be if we were photographing but not even looking at our final images ever? What were your thoughts there? This is pretty extreme, right?
Dante
Yeah, it’s really an existential question around our mortality, almost — the fact that we’re all going to die. And when I think about that — unless something changes, right? [laughs] — but when I think about that, it radically frees me from this need to please and validate myself through other people looking at or appreciating my work. It really puts me into this place where I’m only making work because I like making work.
It’s less to do with the outcome and more to do with the experience of me just being in the moment, meeting new people, exploring new places. And you know what? If you were to never see the photographs — would you continue photographing? Or is the output, and the attachment, and the trophy that you bring home, the goal? I think it’s just an interesting question to pose to the photography community, as we are constantly seeking validation, submitting our work to contests and having them judged by others. To turn inward and fulfill yourself personally — at least for me — has been extremely fulfilling, and I just like sharing that with others. For me, the meaning is found within the process.
“I’m only making work because I like making work. For me, the meaning is found within the process.”
Tomasz
In such cases — I can imagine, because I can see people watching the videos. There are a couple of them at least sitting there and just dreaming about dropping a comment, but you don’t let them even comment. It’s such a thought-provoking question, and you post many of them in your videos. But I can understand — maybe those discussions would take another hundreds of hours of your life.
Dante
Yeah. [laughs]
Four Photographs
Tomasz
Let’s look at a couple of images — just four. And by the way, I’m very sorry — I’m one of those who really appreciate and respect your work. [laughs] So let’s look at just — I selected four of them. Spontaneous reactions, exactly like with the scenes you photograph. Now you just spontaneously look at your own images. Whatever pops into your mind, into your head, just share a couple of thoughts with us. Maybe you’ll remember the situations. Okay, let’s start with this one.
Dante
Yeah, this photograph I made on Walnut Street here in Philadelphia. I was walking down the street and I noticed this man’s tattoo on his arm, and I engaged the subject and photographed his tattoo. He basically showed me his tattoo and I photographed it. The photograph that I made at that moment actually was made from that instinctual state, but I was also engaged with the humanity — I was at the scene, I engaged this person openly, and as he lifted his shirt I made the frame. Yeah, it was a very raw and gritty surprise to see the actual tattoo that’s revealed, that we all are familiar with.
Tomasz
And how often does it come to actually — considering your way of photographing on the streets these days, the technique and everything — how often does it come to some kind of interaction with the people you photograph, or who happen to be in your images?
Dante
It really depends. I would say maybe once in a blue moon, though. It’s not all the time that I’m engaging. But when I see a subject that is interesting and has some sort of character to them — whether it’s tattoos or something — I’ll provoke the subject, I’ll maybe make a picture, and then eventually have them sort of comfortable at the scene, and continue photographing.
Human First, Photographer Second
Tomasz
Would you ever, these days, tell them what to do?
Dante
Not directing the subject. But I would say the interactions that I have have been something I learned throughout my journey photographing. I feel like my approach is more about being a human first and a photographer second. So I’m able to go from making candid, sneaky pictures that are off the cuff, to then engaging with people, embedding myself in scenes, and photographing. That comes through my experience traveling the world and engaging with people. So I go back and forth.
“My approach is more about being a human first and a photographer second.”
Tomasz
So this was one of those moments. Okay, let’s look at the next one.
Dante
This photograph was made at Penn’s Landing in Philadelphia. It’s one of my favorite locations. I was looking at the river, at these birds in flight. When I made the frame, I was obviously interested in the pattern of the birds, and I had this angle from a top-down perspective. And the way I kind of made this surreal image was through underexposing the frame with my high-contrast approach.
I absolutely love to observe the patterns of people — the motion of the feet, the gestures — but also nature and light and birds in flight. So I’m very much drawn to these specific spaces in my city, especially by the riverside. I gravitate here naturally, and this is just one of the photos I made while I was walking.
Tomasz
So when you noticed this scene — like you said, you underexposed it a lot — is it like a decision you almost instinctively feel happening? Okay, I have to underexpose, and you just know your camera very well, you underexpose. Is it a very quick process?
Dante
It’s extremely quick. I basically only use one setting on my camera, which is the exposure compensation dial. So when I see something, I know: okay, underexpose, or even overexpose. I have this intuitive way of exposing with just a quick adjustment of my finger. This was one of those moments where I knew that I could crush the background and expose for the highlights. That’s one of my techniques through my images to simplify things, which I’m looking to achieve.
Tomasz
Yeah. Do you ever print your images big?
Dante
Yeah, I have some images I’ve blown up pretty big — 17×22. I’ve got a Canon Pro-1000 at home, and surprisingly, the small JPEG file, which is around 4 megabytes, grit and gray and everything — they look beautiful. But I do prefer my work printed on just cheap copy paper, actually, with a monochrome laserjet.
Tomasz
Yeah, this would be a nice bigger print. I think it’s special.
Dante
Yeah, absolutely.
Tomasz
Friends, or whatever, and — yeah. Okay, next one. I love this one, absolutely.
Dante
Thank you. Yeah, this was an image I made in Costa Rica. I was on vacation with my brother, and the dog swooped by, and it was one of those instinctual moments. I didn’t look through the viewfinder. I saw the dog, I made the picture, and I moved on. I believe it was photographed with the Ricoh GR IIIx, which is a 40mm. I made the picture from that instinct. I saw the dog move, I didn’t think, and I made the frame. That’s a lot of the time how it works for me. I see the movement, I see the shape, I see the gesture, I click the button — and the surprise is what I’m interested in.
“I see the movement, I see the shape, I see the gesture, I click the button — and the surprise is what I’m interested in.”
Tomasz
Absolutely love it. And this one, by coincidence, or whatever it might be, it has some kind of tribute to Moriyama and his dog, right?
Dante
It does. Yeah.
Tomasz
Yeah, wonderful. I love every single image. Now, I was surprised myself, and I discovered — I didn’t know about it until a couple of hours ago — that you also used to shoot in color.
Dante
Absolutely. Yeah. So I photographed in color for many years. The foundation of my photography is color, strong light, working with people in the documentary approach. This photograph was made in Baltimore. I made this picture in 2016, and this is one of the first pictures that really started it all for me.
I approached this scene at this basketball court in West Baltimore, and I’ll never forget — it was the first time that I decided, well, maybe I should go and ask for permission. Maybe I can work this scene here. I noticed the beautiful golden light, the shadow play. I was shooting with the Ricoh GR II at the time, with just point-and-shoot mode. And as the scene unfolded, I made this image. From there, I continued on down that practice of photographing with color and light and humanity, and traveling. This is basically a foundational picture for me.
Tomasz
Okay. I mean, this is photography at its best. For me, it’s — you must also be familiar with the work of Alex Webb. This could be his shot. It’s just great.
Still Photography and Video
Tomasz
No, Dante, as I said at the beginning, we are now at — what is it? — yeah, 40 minutes. We could be talking for hours. I hope we meet one day and go shooting together, or something like this. Unless you detach yourself completely from everything. I hope not. I hope the camera will be accompanying you for decades.
Do you ever think in 10 — how should I put it? Do you have new ideas popping up in your head still? Like, okay, now you are in this phase, you enjoy what you’re doing — I feel it, it comes through your images — but, speaking to a creative like yourself, a creative person, I can imagine there is much going on in there. So, opening up for different approaches, different projects, experimenting with something completely different — what do you do with those ideas? Do you write them down? What’s going on? Because I can imagine there’s much going on in your head when it comes to creativity.
Dante
Yeah, I’ll write them down. A lot of the time I make a YouTube video and I share my ideas publicly, and I hope that they can inspire somebody, or even join me. Actually, I recently have been experimenting with video on the street. I recently just displayed some video work in a gallery here in Philly — a CRT television installation, with some old handycam footage that I made on the street. So I’ve been experimenting with using a video camera and documenting the moments that I typically would with still imagery, but now with moving imagery. That’s been something that I’ve been working on for the past few months, pushing myself to make some street video work here in Philadelphia.
Tomasz
Do you feel, in those moments — because I also know, I know everything you’re talking about, it’s so funny — with your video experiments, do you feel sometimes that you are kind of betraying your still photography in those moments? Or do you feel they compete with each other, or somehow complement each other, in this creative, big overall sense?
Dante
Yeah, I think it’s going to complement my work. I think it is complementing my work. I’ve accumulated so much imagery over the past four years with my black-and-white photography that I’ve reached this point where I want to play more, experiment more. A lot of the time when I’m walking now, I have my handycam and I’ve got my Ricoh, and I look at life completely differently. When I see these moments occurring across the street, I can zoom in with a 20x optical zoom and document these intimate moments that I honestly otherwise wouldn’t be able to grab with my camera. So it’s a very freeing and inspiring experience for me, because it’s unlocking new ways of me thinking and viewing the world. I’m grateful that I picked up this new approach.
Tomasz
And those two parts — video, still — do you really genuinely feel they kind of influence, inspire each other?
Dante
I think so. I think lately, since adopting video in my process, it’s been influencing my photography. The images that I’ve created from instinct and working on the streets with the compact camera were a creative breakthrough for me originally — I started doing things in a very radically new way. And I think to continue having this perpetual evolution as a photographer, I need something new. So the video camera has been that thing for me. I believe that as I dabble back and forth between these two mediums, it’s going to allow that evolution to occur naturally. That’s what I’m seeking — something new that can then influence my still imagery.
“I look at life completely differently… it’s unlocking new ways of me thinking and viewing the world.”
Teaching Photography
Tomasz
It sounds very exciting. Last thing — I noticed a couple of your videos, or many of them, are kind of what you call lessons, where you share your philosophy, your approach, and you even talk about gear, settings, and so on. Do you teach in person?
Dante
I’m open to it. I haven’t actually launched an official in-person workshop experience, but I’d really love to teach others my practice and help others with their photography. I started a small online workshop experience where I’ve been teaching people photography, and specifically zine making, online. So that’s one thing I started doing. If people want to get in contact or reach me, they can join my YouTube channel, or actually use my Flux Zine generator on my website, and they’ll receive the link to join my own private community. So I’ve been engaging with people there, and I’m very open to that.
Tomasz
Hey, this is your main work — it’s great to hear. Stay in touch; maybe we come up with some ideas. We have a big community of people hungry for this kind of content, and I think you can just deliver so much inspiration and ideas — and not even speaking about all the technical skill set in your hands.
Closing Thoughts
Tomasz
So, Dante, thank you so much. Fascinating. I’m so happy we finally connected, and I can’t wait to see where all those creative experiments take you next. We will be following your work. We’ll definitely stay in touch, and yeah — all the best with your next walk, video, or photography work, whatever it might be. Thank you so much for today.
The simplest reason why I love black and white photography, and specifically photographing with the GR4 Monochrome, is that what I photograph is ultimately an abstraction of reality.
And what that provides me is infinite curiosity.
This unrepeatable practice keeps me returning to photography daily, for the surprise that arises in the frames that I make.
Through the mistakes.
Through the imperfections.
Through the way that light and shadow render upon my camera sensor.
It’s keeping my eyes open.
And keeping me curious to continue making pictures.
Welcome to Flux Archive 007, where I look at photographs I’ve made over the past three and a half years of photographing exclusively in high-contrast black and white.
Over that time I’ve made more than 400,000 photographs.
I’ve learned a lot from shooting with that kind of intensity, and today I want to talk about one simple idea:
Photograph with quantity, and you’ll eventually extract quality.
You can print this issue at home using any monochrome laser printer. The PDF is linked below.
A Camera That Disappears
The first frame was made in Florence with the Ricoh GR IIIx.
Using a compact camera that’s always with me, photographing in automatic mode, shooting JPEGs, and baking the contrast directly into the file removes almost all friction from my process.
I don’t have to think about post-processing.
I don’t have to worry about editing.
When I travel, photography simply becomes part of my day instead of another task I have to perform.
I think a lot of people experience anxiety when they travel because they feel pressure to come home with “good photographs.”
But when you remove friction from your practice, photography becomes effortless.
You’re free to play.
You’re free to explore.
You’re free to follow your instincts.
Following Instinct Instead of Control
Every photograph in this archive came from instinct.
I’m no longer hesitating over compositions or second-guessing myself.
I’m throwing myself into the chaos and letting my gut lead.
I don’t stress about where I need to go.
I don’t worry about what the photograph has to become.
I simply allow life to arrive in front of me.
That’s when photography becomes easy.
Working From Back to Front
I spent 48 hours in Paris.
The first place I visited was the Eiffel Tower.
At first, the tower naturally grabbed my attention.
But I also noticed the woman sitting on the ledge making photographs.
When I built this composition, I worked back to front.
The Eiffel Tower became the background.
The woman became the isolated subject in the middle ground.
The foreground was filled with movement and chaos.
Standing back allowed everything to layer naturally.
Instead of making one frame and walking away, I stayed.
I kept photographing.
I kept refining.
The more I photographed, the more possibilities revealed themselves.
Simplicity Creates Impact
Other photographs come from something much simpler.
A gesture.
A patch of light.
A single moment.
Sometimes that’s enough.
One photograph might contain layers of complexity.
Another might isolate one person standing alone.
Both work because they’re easy to read.
Technically, composition often comes down to asking:
What can I remove?
Not…
“What can I add?”
Photography as a Daily Diary
I treat photography as documentation.
It’s simply a diary of my day.
I’m not attached to individual frames.
The less I worry about outcomes, the easier it becomes to enter a state of flow.
I photograph more.
And over time…
Quality naturally emerges from quantity.
Presence Creates Better Photographs
I follow light.
I watch gestures.
I pay attention to how people move through shadows.
When the light reveals an eye…
When a shadow cuts across a face…
When a gesture appears…
I’m present enough to react instantly.
Removing friction from my workflow allows me to stay in that state.
That’s why I’m so passionate about the Ricoh GR.
Automatic settings.
Snap Focus.
High-contrast JPEGs.
Everything exists to simplify the process so I can focus entirely on what’s happening in front of me.
Get Close
One photograph was made while chatting with a man sunbathing on a cliff overlooking Rome.
As we talked, he casually gestured toward his watch.
That tiny gesture became the photograph.
It reminded me that emotional closeness matters just as much as physical proximity.
Don’t be afraid to engage.
Don’t be afraid to step closer.
That’s often where your strongest photographs live.
Small Details Matter
Sometimes all I notice is a shirt.
Buttons.
A hand in a pocket.
Someone smoking.
A simple gesture.
Those tiny details are enough.
Using Snap Focus lets me respond instantly without hesitation.
Everything becomes intuitive.
Follow the Light
More than anything else, I follow light.
The people matter.
The chaos matters.
But today it’s really the light itself that keeps me curious.
Artificial light at night.
Hard afternoon shadows.
Simple architectural details.
Light and shadow are what elevate ordinary scenes into memorable photographs.
Surprise Is Everything
One of my favorite photographs in this issue happened because of surprise.
At first, I noticed the children in the background.
That made me press the shutter.
Only later did I realize that two adults in the foreground were mirroring the children’s gestures in shadow.
That unexpected relationship transformed the photograph.
It’s these surprises that keep me photographing.
They’re impossible to predict.
They’re gifts.
High-contrast black and white makes those surprises even more exciting.
Know Your Camera
One photograph required switching instantly from Snap Focus to Single Point Focus.
Normally my Snap Focus distance would have left the subject out of focus.
Because I know my camera so well, I instinctively pressed the Fn button, switched focus modes, and made the photograph without hesitation.
The technical setup isn’t about becoming more technical.
It’s about removing hesitation.
The more naturally your camera operates, the more instinctive your photography becomes.
Photograph With Quantity
Across these photographs, one thing keeps appearing.
Gestures.
Light.
Simple moments.
Small interactions.
These are the things that continue pulling me back onto the streets.
And the more I photograph…
The more those moments reveal themselves.
Photograph with intensity. Photograph with quantity. Quality will eventually emerge.
Thanks for joining me for Flux Archive 007.
You can download the PDF, print it at home, browse the online archive, or create your own Flux issue using the Flux Generator linked below.
If I enjoy your work, I may review it here on the YouTube channel.
I recently sat down with Tomas of FRAMES Magazine for a conversation about photography as a way of life—instinct, repetition, photographing the same streets every day, stepping away from outside validation, embracing imperfection, and remaining an amateur forever.
Welcome to Flux Weekly Witness, where I look at the photographs you submit inside the Flux community.
Today we’re looking at a body of work from Michael Tuck, photographed on May 31st, 2026, during Arsenal’s Premier League victory parade in London. The goal was simple: capture the chaos and joy of the day.
Looking at these contact sheets, it’s immediately obvious we’re dealing with an environment full of energy, motion, and emotion.
Chaos Is Good for Street Photography
Right off the bat, look at the crowds pouring out of the train station.
The density of people immediately tells you what kind of day this was going to be.
These kinds of events are fantastic for street photography because you’re constantly surrounded by:
Gestures
Facial expressions
Emotion
Unpredictable interactions
When there’s this much commotion, stronger photographs naturally begin to appear.
Gesture Carries the Frame
I really like this opening image.
We have the man holding the smoke bomb overhead while the building fills the background nicely. The pole splits the frame down the middle, creating structure inside an otherwise chaotic scene.
Then you begin noticing the smaller relationships.
The girl looking toward the main subject.
The building adding depth.
The smoke creating atmosphere.
There’s a lot happening without the frame feeling completely out of control.
Small Gestures Matter Too
Some moments don’t need huge action.
This portrait of the man wrapped in the blanket, quietly looking back while wearing headphones, is almost the opposite of the surrounding celebration.
Gesture doesn’t always have to be loud.
Sometimes a simple glance is enough.
That quiet tension becomes the entire photograph.
I actually appreciate moments like this because they slow the sequence down.
Solving Visual Chaos
One of the biggest problems with photographing crowds is visual noise.
How do you bring order to complete disorder?
Michael solves that problem repeatedly throughout this edit.
Dropping to a lower angle.
Looking downward from above.
Using open sky behind smoke.
Separating subjects from busy backgrounds.
Changing perspective becomes the solution.
Smoke, Emotion, and Separation
One of my favorite photographs is the frame where the smoke surrounds the man covering part of his face.
The outstretched arm already creates a strong gesture, but the smoke introduces mystery.
Then Batman casually appears in the background.
There are multiple layers pulling your eye through the frame without becoming distracting.
That’s what makes it work.
Perspective Creates Better Photographs
Another standout image shows the man standing above the crowd with the smoke bomb.
The camera looks downward, allowing the subject to separate cleanly from everyone below.
You still feel the density of the crowd.
But now your eye knows exactly where to look.
That’s a really smart compositional decision.
Looking for Simplicity
As the sequence progresses, we begin seeing quieter photographs.
Scarves.
Portraits.
People moving through tunnels.
Small details that balance the louder celebration.
This shift gives the series rhythm instead of repeating the same image over and over.
Layering Done Well
One layered frame really stands out.
Working from front to back, every subject remains clearly separated.
The smiling man.
The person looking back.
The figures inside the window.
Nothing overlaps unnecessarily.
This is a strong example of how layering should work in busy environments.
My Favorite Photograph
If I had to choose one image from the entire series, it would actually be the man sitting on top of the fence.
It has almost nothing to do with football.
The eye covered by the hand.
The dangling feet.
The rough texture of the fence.
The large empty sky.
Everything simplifies into one powerful gesture.
If you remove the noise of the parade, this photograph still stands completely on its own.
That’s what makes it memorable.
Final Thoughts
Excellent work, Michael.
Thanks for submitting this body of work.
If you’d like your work reviewed in a future episode, every issue of Flux includes a contact sheet and manifest.
Generate your own issue by uploading 36 photographs through the Flux Generator.
Your photographs will be organized chronologically, timestamped automatically, and assembled into your own printable Flux issue.
