Philadelphia – September 17, 2024



















The myth of Milo of Croton revolves around his extraordinary strength and a tragic end that highlights the limits of human power. Milo was an ancient Greek wrestler from the city of Croton in southern Italy, renowned for his six Olympic victories in wrestling during the 6th century BCE. His legend is filled with remarkable feats of strength, many of which border on the mythical.
One of the most famous stories about Milo is how he trained by carrying a calf on his shoulders every day. As the calf grew into a full-grown bull, Milo’s strength increased correspondingly until, one day, he carried the bull around the stadium, slaughtered it, and ate it in a single day.
Despite his strength, Milo’s tale ends in tragedy. According to legend, Milo encountered a tree trunk split with wedges while walking through a forest. Believing he could split the trunk with his bare hands, he inserted his fingers into the gap and tried to tear it apart. However, the wedges fell out, trapping his hands. Helpless, he was unable to free himself, and eventually, wild animals came and devoured him.
The myth of Milo serves as both an example of incredible human potential and a cautionary tale about hubris, illustrating that even the strongest can be brought down by their overconfidence.

I think something that we can all relate to as street photographers is there does come a point where you may feel “burnt out.” This feeling of burnout, however, I believe comes from an attachment to the results or the photographs you make. Here are some simple thoughts on how to overcome burnout as a street photographer:
My most radical thought about street photography:
Would you still photograph if you never saw the results?
Imagine shooting for a lifetime but never seeing the results of your photographs—printed in a book, hanging in a gallery, or even simply made as a print. Let’s say you never get recognition, praise, or an audience that appreciates your work. Would you still shoot?
It’s most critical for us to detach from the outcome because this is what leads to burnout. The more we’re dependent upon making “good” photographs as a marker of success as a street photographer, the more easily burnt out we will be.
My new idea of being a successful street photographer is whether or not you are photographing every day. If you miss a day of shooting, that doesn’t mean you’re failing—it just means that you found an excuse not to press the shutter. There’s always an opportunity to make a photograph. I say, even if you make a self-portrait or simply take a photo out of your window, you are successful! You are doing the thing that matters most, making more photos…
Your next photograph is your best photograph
This is a very simple heuristic to live by, and I believe it will transform the way that you view success as a street photographer. If you treat the process like a stream of becoming, where each photo you make, however seemingly small or mundane it may be, is actually a big part of your evolution. Just treat the click of the shutter like you’re affirming life, and whenever you’re not clicking the shutter, you are denying life, and the ultimate death of the photographer is the day they decide to stop clicking the shutter.
I think people get burnt out only because they are attached to the results. If you never care for the superfluous, external things, it is inevitable that you will continue shooting, in my opinion. The goal of a street photographer is very simple:
Increase your curiosity by one percent each day
When you think about it, curiosity, and cultivating it, is of most importance. Curiosity is what’s going to lead us to continuously photograph. However, we must be full of vitality, and have strength within our physical legs, in order to act on our curiosities. The stronger you become physically, the stronger your photographs will be, and the more you will be filled with curiosity.
Street photography is very similar to weightlifting. Sometimes, you show up to the gym and only knock out a few reps. However, the fact that you showed up to the gym and even made the effort is what truly matters. There is a discipline to practicing street photography daily that I believe goes a long way. Even if you show up with your camera in hand for just a 10-minute stroll, 30 minutes here or there, you’re at least making the effort, and the discipline goes a long way.
The less you use it, the more you lose it
Just treat practicing street photography like flexing a visual muscle. It’s a way for you to remain sharp and hone your strength, similar to weightlifting.
This thought goes hand-in-hand with detaching from the outcome, and that is to remove all of the modern-day distractions from your life, such as social media, especially Instagram or YouTube. Stop consuming contemporary photography, watching photography YouTube channels, and just focus on the craft. Only the real ones will understand because the real ones don’t really give a fuck about an audience. The real ones are doing it for the sake of doing it and don’t even care about being connected to social platforms. I get it—you can meet other photographers online, share thoughts and ideas with them, etc. But there’s going to come a point where you need to cut the umbilical cord. The problem with the umbilical cord attached to you from Instagram is that you’re being fed poisonous sludge, toxic information, and becoming malnourished.
If you were attached to a mother through an umbilical cord that only consumed cigarettes, alcohol, and McDonald’s food, would you remain attached, or would you reach for a pair of scissors yourself and cut that damn cord as quickly as possible?
I think after writing about this right now, and just thinking out loud, burnout is just a mindset that is attached to failure, dwelling in it, and not learning to accept it.
Street photography is 99% failure, and 1% success.
If I were to tell you that 99% of the time you are going to go out there with your camera, you will fail, and come home empty-handed, would you still practice street photography?
If the answer is yes, congratulations, you should have no problems with burnout. However, if you are still attached to the results, the idea of you making a good photograph, you will inevitably feel this overwhelming sensation of burnout. Burnout only occurs when you are weak-minded, caught up in external distractions, the results of your photographs, and have not yet learned to embrace failure openly. The real street photographer out there will accept failure as the number one part of the process because we understand that that is the name of the game. You must fail, keep failing, and learn to love it. You recognize that failure is just a part of the process, the journey of becoming a better street photographer. You don’t let failure burn you out, because you know that’s just a part of the game, and something that is getting you closer and closer to that inevitable outcome of making a successful photograph.
It may take you weeks, months, or years to make a photo that you resonate with. But the point is, you just keep shooting, keep failing, and keep going with your head up, simply embracing the process, the walk, and fueling your curiosity and lust for life through the click of the shutter. For this is all that truly matters—giving your life a deeper meaning, a sense of purpose and duty, through practicing street photography. The results, the outcome, the modern-day notions of success, are all superfluous to us. We don’t get burnt out because we love failure


My mind and body eclipse like a totality
With vigor and strength, I march with a strong gait. Cultivate spartan discipline, and defend the gate of your inner state.
My camera is the sword and the street is my battlefield. I’ve got a 40 pound plate carrier on, I don’t need a shield 
When you’re full of vitality, you increase your curiosity and cut through reality
Every moment becomes a chance to shape your destiny
DANTE

A radical question on the shortness of life:
How many more sunrises will you see in your lifetime?
I think this lifetime we have is so short, and it’s best that we spend our time most wisely. Personally, as a photographer, I find that spending the maximum amount of time outside, under the sun, is the ultimate way to live my life. Because of this, I make the effort to take a morning walk, during dawn, before the sun even rises. I’m just so eager and ready to see the sun peer above the horizon, to pierce through my eyes, enter my body, my soul, and fuel myself with curiosity.
When you’re on the street, treat the world like the ultimate playground, like you’re just a big kid, and everything around you—the sidewalks, the storefront, the lamp posts, the cracks in the concrete—becomes a canvas, something novel for us to draw upon. When you’re a kid, you have no preconception of right or wrong, and simply respond through your emotional whims. Honestly, this may not be the optimal way to live our lives all the time, but I think when we’re with the camera, and we’re making art, we should follow that inner emotional child, the irrational side of us, that just wants to play and have fun. Follow your childlike instincts and curiosity!
The other day, while lying in my treehouse, sunbathing, I was listening as leaves were rustling and falling from the trees as the seasons changed. In that moment, I had no thoughts, no worries, no ideas about the past or the future, just me, the sun, the sounds, and the feeling of the sun kissing my skin. I could not help but have a huge smile on my face, and feel pure silence and bliss, alone, in the moment. I find that the moment, whether so mundane like a leaf falling from a tree or even rain tapping on a window, becomes the most infinitely fascinating and important aspect of everyday life. I think it’s so important to embrace the small details in life because it really does put you in a state of bliss when you shut everything off, with no distractions, and just enjoy your peace, silence, and solitude.
How to cultivate curiosity?
Curiosity is all about vitality.
There is a correlation between vitality, health, strength, and curiosity. In my opinion, with low vitality, you will not possess the curiosity to even go out and make photos, or create anything. In order to achieve a state of curiosity, one must be full of good health, have had good sleep the night before, in order to go outside the door with the power and urge to do something, see something, and make something through that curiosity we possess.
If you get poor sleep, you will have a poor day and a poor mood. I find that we must prioritize sleep first and foremost before considering the visual art of photography or anything that we want to conquer within our days. Personally, I get to bed as soon as I can, anytime between 8 to 9 PM, so I can get a good eight hours of sleep each night. With eight hours of sleep, I find that my battery is fully charged in the morning, ready to move, to see, to take more photos.
Also, consider the correlation between strength and mood. If you’re able to pull your bodyweight up for 10-15 pull-ups, or even do 10 pull-ups with a 40-pound weight vest on, you will feel insanely happy and overjoyed by your accomplishment. When testosterone and endorphins are released from within your body, you achieve a natural high, a blissful feeling, and a sensation that carries you throughout the day with an elevated state of mind.
The first rule for street photography:
Set your body in motion without preconceived notions.
What is motivation and where does it come from? Your two legs.
As a fun exercise, try to stand and walk for an entire day, week, month, year, and even a lifetime… If you work in an office, just stand at your desk, or request to have one of those desks that elevate your computer so you can stand and use it. If someone tells you to sit down, just don’t. Just still stand, and tell them that you have a medical condition that requires you to stand or something, haha. Man has become domesticated like a dog—”Here, boy, sit, good boy, here’s a treat!” Welcome to the zoo utopia.
For the past two years, since adopting my new process of photographing using black-and-white, I essentially have not stopped standing and walking throughout the entirety of the day, while barefoot. I believe that adopting barefoot shoes as a part of my daily walks, I am strengthening my feet, legs, core, back, and all the muscles within my body. I have an abundance of power within me and cannot get myself to sit still, to sit down, or be stagnant in any capacity. The more I live this lifestyle of being outside, standing, and walking, the more I’m trying to challenge myself to just keep pushing, to see how long I can go, perhaps never sit down for an entire lifetime? The path to becoming the most prolific street photographer is the path to becoming the strongest version of yourself.
One of the most useful ways to use ChatGPT is to simply ask for the etymology of words.
The word restaurant comes from the French verb restaurer, meaning “to restore” or “to refresh.”
In 18th-century Paris, the word restaurant was first used to describe healing broths that were sold by street vendors and used to restore strength. Considering the etymological meaning of restaurant, to restore, I’m highly critical of places to eat in the city of Philadelphia. In my opinion, the only real restaurants are Vietnamese locations, like Pho 75, Cali Pho, or Pho Street. Why?
Vietnamese pho contains bone broth, beef, tendon, and organ meat such as tripe. Pho is very rich in collagen, a protein that contributes to joint health, skin elasticity, and tissue repair. Actually, one day after working, cutting some trees down, and exhausting my physical body, my leg was stiff and sore, and I cut my skin on my face. That evening, I decided to eat calf liver and even had a bowl of pho, and within the next two days, the cut was restored, and my leg felt back to full strength. I make the effort to eat organ meat and pho once per week, usually on a Saturday. I realize that calf liver is so good and tastes delicious with onions, garlic, and olive oil.
Another great way to restore your body is by taking hot baths with Epsom salt. On the weekend, Saturday and Sunday, I actually start the day off early in the morning with an extremely hot bath, to relax my muscles for at least a half-hour. Every morning during the week, I stretch my entire body through yoga for 10 to 15 minutes. Daily stretching makes a big difference in how you feel throughout the day, and I think focusing on the strength of our legs is most critical.
And of course, prioritizing sleep is our natural steroid that will build our muscles and replenish our cells. When you get good sleep, your body is repairing the damaged cells and tissue in your body, which plays a vital role in healing wounds and overall physical recovery.
Currently, I’m reading about Sparta, by Plutarch, and really like the idea of how Spartans lived in austerity. Essentially, they spent their entire lives training for battle, as warriors. When the boys became warriors, during their training, they trained in the Agoge program, without shoes. I feel like I’m in my perpetual Agoge training, with barefoot shoes—the Vibram FiveFingers EL-X Knit version shoes are amazing. By going barefoot, I’m becoming more disciplined and strengthening my entire body throughout the day.
I think the most interesting aspect of the Spartan lifestyle is their self-sufficiency, where they simply rely on their physical strength. They’re essentially ready for battle or war at any moment. They view luxury, material wealth, and possessions as things that lead to weakness. In terms of our home, let’s just treat it like a bunker. Let’s never be inside, and only use our house for sleeping and eating. Also, when you eat, just use your hands and cut your meat with scissors.
Forks and knives are for losers.
As street photographers, just think, doesn’t this make the most sense anyway? We want to be out there making work the maximum amount of time possible. If you’re a young single guy like me, who doesn’t have anything scheduled, no plans, no obligations, just become a Spartan of the street and march on repeat.
As I’m currently writing and walking this blog post, I’m walking with my 40-pound plate carrier strapped to my shoulders, on my chest and my back. The other day, I actually wore it for two hours straight, practicing street photography, and it was the ultimate challenge. Once you get around the two-hour mark, you really start to feel the effect of the weight on your muscles, your body, and it makes you think about the physical strength a Spartan must’ve had to wear a full suit of armor during war. By walking barefoot with a plate carrier every morning for at least one hour, I’m treating it like my Spartan Agoge training. Throughout the entirety of my day, you can know, with 100% certainty, that Dante is outside somewhere, standing, walking, photographing, contracting his physical muscles.
I refuse to remain stagnant, both physically and mentally. I’m always marching onwards, into the unknown. I will march until the sun rises, and until the sun sets, every single day, for the rest of my days. For this is the ultimate joy in life: to stand, to walk, and to move, to be physical. By increasing our physical strength, we increase our curiosity, and by focusing on strength and vitality, we can ultimately become better artists. With increased vitality comes an increased lust for life. With an increased lust for life, it is inevitable that you will never want to miss another sunrise again.

First and foremost, light is the medium of our choice. The camera is the tool that allows us to wield light. Photography is simply drawing with light. If you consider light as information, we have new information, new stimuli, always changing, always moving, consistently painting our canvas, the world, 24 hours per day, 365 days per year. Even in the early mornings, when I walk before the sun rises, the moon reflects light from the sun, providing me with the faintest amount of light possible, but nonetheless, there is still light, even in the night. Maybe the only place a photographer should not dwell is within caves—places where there is the absence of light, in darkness, lacking information. This is why I believe a photographer should be outside as much as humanly possible. The more time you spend outside, the more opportunities you have to make photographs.
Also, consider light and the way that it changes throughout the hour, day, and year. You can visit the same location over and over again, and make a photograph of the same thing, from the same angle, but because of the way light changes, you can never make the same photograph twice.
We are closest to God when closest to the ground: your hands in the soil, your knees on the ground, your body bound by the laws of physics- gravity bound.

The number one quality a street photographer must possess is courage. Without courage, how will you find the will to make photographs? A street photographer is not just a visual artist. I prefer the idea that you are a Spartan of the street.
“Spartans! What is your profession?”
“Ahoo! Ahoo! Ahoo!”
When I was a young boy, I would explore in the forest, play football, basketball, baseball, hockey, lacrosse, ride bikes, climb trees, and skateboard. I basically played every major sport except for soccer. Soccer always seemed super lame to me. My least favorite sport that I played as a kid was baseball—also very boring.
American football was really fun. I played for maybe two years, I think seventh and eighth grade, and was a tight end for both offense and defense. I actually scored a touchdown one time with a small pop pass. Because I was one of the fastest runners on the team, they would sometimes look for me to run the ball. I liked playing on the end of the line because it was a hybrid approach—both defending the quarterback, the runners, and being open to making plays on offense. Football practice was extremely intense, probably the most hardcore sport to play as a youth.
I’ll never forget when you huddle up in a circle with your full suit of pads on, and you put two people in the center. When the coach blows the whistle, both players charge towards each other, attempting to tackle one another to the ground. American football felt like warrior training. The craziest part of a football match is when they kick off at the very beginning, and both teams are sprinting full force at one another. I remember my biggest advantage was speed, as I was very fast but also not afraid to take a hit.
I remember when the video game UFC Championship for Xbox 360 came out. This was around the time when I hit puberty—maybe 12 or 13 years old, sometime around when you go through hormonal changes, when your balls drop. My brother and I, along with two friends, would sit down and play the game. Something within us, and the two other boys, triggered insane testosterone rages. After one of us would lose a fight, we would start to kick the shit out of each other, just beating each other up for no reason. It was actually so funny—the way we would roughhouse, tackle each other, and really go at it like we wanted to kill each other.
I still have a vivid memory of choking one of my friends out, his head turning red, going full-on UFC mode. Afterward, we would go downstairs, laughing our asses off after cooling down, shaking our bodies around and hearing our balls flap against our thighs because they were now hanging low. It was one of those early boyhood memories I’ll never forget—so amusing, just beating the shit out of each other and then doing some sort of tribal dance to showcase our growing testosterone.
I also remember in eighth grade, my basketball team won the CYO Catholic School Championship. I was a point guard, liked to dribble, pass, and set up plays for the team.
Skateboarding was actually the first and my favorite sport I ever played. I learned at FDR Skatepark in Philadelphia, which is an insane DIY park with large obstacles, all built of concrete. I was probably five years old when I first started. Skateboarding taught me to be fearless, courageous, and creative.
The first time I arrived at FDR Skatepark, I remember seeing a man doing insane tricks, riding up the wall—the column that connects the ground to the highway, I-95, above the skatepark. He must’ve gotten 75% of the way up the column, but when he reached the top, he fell backward, cracking his head on the concrete. There was a bloody mess at the scene. Despite this, my brother and I kept going back to the skatepark, learning to carve the bowls, pump our small legs up and down the large obstacles—wearing a helmet, of course, and I believe kneepads, elbow pads, etc. Like armor. Wearing these pads taught me how to fall and get back up properly.
We even attended Woodward Skatepark camp in Philadelphia at Franklin Mills Mall. One of my greatest memories was learning to ollie the staircase. You started at the top of the platform, ollied up a small pad where you did a manual (wheelie), dropped down the ledge, and then ollied a set of stairs. Honestly, from what I remember, the stair set was only about three steps, but they were very wide steps, making it almost around a five-stair in the grand scheme of things.
Personally, I wasn’t one to try crazy stunts or learn the most technical tricks. My favorite way of skateboarding was freestyle—simply finding a flat patch of concrete and finding new ways to dance upon it with my two feet. I remember my favorite skateboarder as a child was Rodney Mullen, and I found out about him after watching one of his parts in a skate video on YouTube (Almost Round Three) at my neighbor’s house. I’m pretty sure he is responsible for introducing the flat-ground ollie and developing most of the modern-day tricks that people use today. He’s certainly one of the most innovative skateboarders of all time. Just go on YouTube and type in Almost Round Three, Rodney Mullen.
In the summer, when my family went to the beach, I always brought a skateboard with me. During the early morning, I would skimboard along the shallow end of the beach. You’d run with the wooden board in hand, throw it onto the ground, jump, and ride the shallow waves. I’d even put my finger into the sand, bending down low to make the board spin in circles, doing 360s, and trying to carve along the banks of the small waves.
In the afternoon, after a long day at the beach, my brother and I would grab our skateboards and surf along the sidewalks. I remember finding simple ways to skateboard in the flat-ground environment of this beach town, Longport, New Jersey. We would ride in the street and launch ourselves off the curbs at the entrance of driveways, where there would be a small bump in the curb, allowing you to get air and ollie over the grass patch separating the street from the sidewalk.
My favorite skateboard trick was the boneless, where I would plant my foot on the ground, grab the board with one hand, push off, launch into the air, and land back down on the skateboard. I would boneless onto benches, flip the board with my fingers, trying to be as creative as possible in an environment where you seemingly have nothing to work with. Skateboarding is so creative in that regard, where you basically have to find new ways to play with whatever terrain comes your way.
I remember when I learned to manual, I would bomb down this big hill in my neighborhood and see how far I could go with my two wheels off the ground—from one crack to the next, treating these cracks like gaps or obstacles to overcome. When new houses were being developed in the neighborhood, my neighbors, brother, and I would go to the construction site when they weren’t working, find any scrap wood they no longer used, steal it, and construct skateparks in our neighborhood.
I always liked to tinker and make things. Even when it came to my Nerf guns, I would open them up, remove the air restrictors, and open the bladders so the darts would shoot further. I liked to tinker, break things, and put them back together again.
Even with the iPod Touch when it came out, everybody in eighth grade paid me five dollars to jailbreak their iPods so they could access new games and customize their devices however they liked. It was so simple, but somehow no one knew how to do it. I always had a knack for hacking and tinkering.
I attended Central High School in Philadelphia. I remember my freshman year—it felt like a college campus compared to my Catholic middle school, as there were thousands of students now. I think there were around 600 to 1,000 students just in my class alone. One of the starkest contrasts between Catholic and public school was the behavior of the students. People didn’t really give as many fucks in public school—more ratchet, more crazy, less controlled.
I think on the literal first day of lunch when I arrived, I sat down by myself, and some kid came up to me, took my lunch, and threw it in the trash. This kid was a bully who consistently tried to mess with me throughout the year. Actually, one time when I was giving a presentation in class, he punched me in the balls, making me cry in front of the entire class because it hurt so damn much. Imagine getting punched in the balls in front of the entire class—brutal.
I’ll never forget, it was towards the end of the year. I think it was actually the last day of school, and I was waiting by the bus stop. He was trying to press me again, talking shit. I’ll never forget beating the shit out of this kid, choking him out in front of the whole school as they cheered me on, making this rat scurry away.
Yes, I dealt with bullies in high school, but only when I was a freshman, which is probably normal for lots of people. The biggest difference is that in Philly, in the inner-city public school system, there’s much more roughhousing “`markdown
than in normal schools. I even remember being threatened with a knife and feeling genuinely scared to go to school because of it. At the end of the day, Central High School was pretty ghetto, despite the high reviews and ratings it gets, as it’s often regarded as the number one school in Philadelphia.
To be honest, the bullying wasn’t the typical kind of bullying you’d expect, like teasing or making fun verbally. It was really physical, and I believe because of my good-hearted nature, as a freshman, I was an easy target coming from a Catholic school. I never really posed a threat because I never wanted to fight back, since I had Christian morals and virtues instilled in me from a very young age.
One day I was getting books from my locker, turned around, and was instantly punched in the face by some big fat guy, giving me a black eye. In high school, I mostly found myself hanging out with some breakdance kids, watching the way they glided across the floors, hanging with more of the outsiders along the outskirts of the halls. I would skip class a lot, explore outside, and pretty much stick to myself.
I remember getting into indie music, alternative styles, wearing either long hair, spiked hair, beanies, graphic T-shirts from Zumiez, and even getting into street photography. I was great at graphic design after taking a web design course, learning basic HTML, and getting really good at typography. Actually, when I was in sixth grade, I’ll never forget pirating software like Photoshop, learning graphic design on Photoshop CS3 when I was maybe 11 or 12 years old.
I think my childhood and high school experiences during my teenage years shaped me into a creative type, a lone wolf, making me the formidable, courageous person I am today. I believe that going through a period of bullying made me stronger, more fearless, and ultimately made me who I am today.
I went to an art school, the Maryland Institute College of Art, in Baltimore. I would walk the streets of this dangerous neighborhood, Sandtown-Winchester, in West Baltimore, with my Ricoh GR II. I was making photos in a neighborhood where basically nobody else would go and photograph. It required lots of courage, to say the least.
There is one experience I remember: I was photographing a little girl with a flower in her hand, in front of a beautiful mural. As I was making the photograph, a car came drifting by, shooting live ammunition at a barbecue I was photographing. I remember ducking behind the grill with the locals, and as the car sped away, they told me, “Get out of here, white boy!” I immediately ran all the way back to my dorm, imported the photos, and just kept going back out there day after day. I was never afraid of anything in life, from the young age of five years old throwing my body down concrete, to now walking around the most dangerous streets in the United States of America.
When I was 20 years old, I studied abroad at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. My gut told me to visit Israel. I have no idea why, but when I looked at a list of countries I could study in, Israel seemed like the most adventurous. I didn’t want to just go for a trip to Rome or any of the other boring locations on the list—I wanted a real hardcore adventure. I spent most of my days traveling throughout the West Bank, visiting every major Palestinian city in the Holy Land.
I’ll never forget my first time going beyond the wall in East Jerusalem, at Shufat Refugee Camp. I walked through the checkpoint, showed my American passport to the Israeli soldiers, went through the metal detector, the barbed fence, and then through the wall. I actually climbed on top of the wall and walked along it after photographing an epic scene by this no man’s land.
During one of my journeys throughout the refugee camp, I stumbled across a really big and fat Palestinian man. He was fighting with one of his brothers, and I decided to join in for fun. I remember squaring up, boxing with this young Palestinian man—playfully, but also taking it seriously. I knew that if I showcased my courage, I would be respected more in this community as an outsider.
Even during my time in Jericho, I would arm wrestle every man in the village, beating every single one of them, one by one. This was a fast way to gain respect among the Palestinian brothers.
Where there is fear, there is also a sense of respect.
In Jericho, I made close relationships with many of the people there. They respected me and even allowed me onto the front lines during the clashes between Israel and Palestine.
Actually, during one of my journeys from Jerusalem to Jericho, there was fire rising from the border, and no one was permitted to enter Jericho. When I was at the border, I decided to hop out of the taxi and into a random Palestinian car, hitchhiking, asking him to bring me to the closest way to enter the city. He drove me to a hillside at the barbed-wire fence—the border that separates Israel and Palestine. I hopped the border from Israel to Palestine, slipping through the barbed-wire fence, running through the desert into the city of Jericho.
Once I scurried through the alleys and streets of Jericho, camera in hand, I marched towards the front lines of conflict. I made one of my strongest photographs of all time, of a Palestinian man with a tattered mask and fire blazing in the background, on the front lines while getting shot at with live ammunition, tear gas, and rubber bullets.
I think all of my life experience bubbled up to this one moment—letting go of all fear, reflecting my courage through the photograph I made.


Have you ever walked along a curb and seen how far you can go without falling to the left or the right? Anybody can tightrope walk; you just let go and move onward with courage.
I find that I feel closest to God when I’m lowest in the earth. I recognize that I am a gravity-bound creature, with the laws of physics holding me down. When I was at the lowest elevated city in the world, Jericho, I found myself closest to God. When I put my head down on the floor of a mosque, it was the first time I felt the presence of God. Now, when I attend church on Sunday, and kneel in a Catholic Church, that is where I feel closest to God. It’s on your knees, on the floor, close to the earth and the ground itself. When I’m pulling weeds, clearing land, and planting flowers into the soil of the earth, holding worms in my hand, I feel most connected to God.
I believe a critical trait every street photographer must possess is pattern recognition. Through our intuition, we recognize the patterns that exist in both nature and human behavior, whether in light, gestures, or fleeting moments. Look closely at life, with sharp visual acuity. Observe the textures and patterns that exist all around you. In nature, there is so much beauty to look at within the details. For example, the veins in a leaf, the peeling bark of a tree, the patterns and intricacies of flowers. All of the beauty and detail, whether in nature or man-made creations such as architecture, infrastructure, and concrete structures—perhaps there is a touch of godliness within it. God is in the details.
My favorite part of my day has been sitting alone in my treehouse symposium that I found within Fairmount Park. I simply go for a nature hike every day, alone, surrounded by beautiful things: the sounds of insects humming, the tripping songs of birds, and the rustling of leaves as things fall from trees. In silence, we increase our connection to God. I find that we can only be connected to something higher or greater than ourselves when we are alone, in silence, away from the chaos of urban life.
While I absolutely thrive in the chaos of the city streets as a photographer, nothing truly beats being alone in nature. When you’re surrounded by green spaces, it is inevitable that you will feel good, healthy, and full of vitality. The fresh air, open spaces, and the sun kissing your skin is such a blissful sensation and place to be. The greatest aspect of the city of Philadelphia is the numerous green spaces and tree canopies that cover the city streets. We have various parks, and even a gigantic forest in the Wissahickon, where I spent my childhood. These places are sacred, and certainly worth visiting on a daily basis if you live in Philadelphia.
Philadelphia is paradise because you do not need to own a car. It’s actually quite amazing, but I have hardly ever driven a car in my life, which may seem strange, as I’m 28 years old, and I can count maybe five times that I’ve ever driven before. I’ve lived in the city all my life, and never needed an automobile. I can simply walk everywhere, as the city is the perfect size, where everything is within reach from my two feet. This is why I believe city life is supreme: because you do not need a vehicle, and can simply treat your body as such. Also, public transportation using SEPTA buses is fantastic—they arrive on time, basically every 20 minutes, and are always there when I need it in a pinch or to commute to the park. As street photographers in Philadelphia, we should recognize how lucky we are. This truly is the most walkable city in the country, and because of that, perhaps it is the new Mecca of street photography? We are in the birthplace, baby.
The more I photograph, the more I realize how important vitality and strength are in the realm of photography. If you feel low in vitality or strength, I believe that this will impact your will to press the shutter. The more strength and power I have within my legs and my physical body, the more will I have to make more photographs. This is a very simple and practical suggestion: hone in on sleep, weightlifting, and the foods that you eat. The more that you are filled with vitality, the more power within your legs, the more you will photograph and find success in your daily street photography practice. He who walks the most shall win. The more that you walk, the more that you see, and the more that you see, the more that you photograph. Do you have the will to press the shutter? Do you have the will to power? We must walk endlessly throughout our journey and always be filled with vitality as photographers.
Lately, I’ve been wearing all black clothing. I just feel most comfortable with fewer decisions. I’ve always had lots of black clothes in my wardrobe, and find that eliminating all of your choices makes my life more simple.
Also, I’ve been carrying a black bag with me and my iPad Pro everywhere I go. The iPad Pro provides me with the simplest solution when it comes to importing and reviewing my photographs. Not to mention, using the application Procreate gives me more opportunities to create visual art by mixing my images with collages. I think that we should hone in more on the idea of becoming a visual artist, rather than a photographer. Pick up an iPad Pro, forget about all of the traditional ways of working, whether as a film photographer in a darkroom or even a digital photographer using Lightroom and RAW files. Shoot JPEG, shoot small JPEG, bake in the color or black-and-white simulation, and stop doing any processing. Simply import your photos to the Photos app that’s built into the iPad, and keep your process as lightweight, minimal, and simple as possible.
A photograph is more than just light on a surface, a moment, or a story. A photograph is a reflection of the photographer’s lust for life.
He who loves life the most shall win.
A photographer requires two key traits: courage and curiosity.
You must possess the courage to put yourself out there onto the front lines of life, close to life itself, both physically and emotionally. Also, we must remain curious, like a child, to photograph, tinker, and experiment with our photography practice each day.
The ultimate goal of a photographer is to increase our curiosity by one percent each day.
A photograph is a reflection of the photographer’s soul.
A photograph is a reflection of the photographer’s courage or heart.
The more you love life, the better your photographs will be. I believe this to be an inevitability as he who has lust for life within him will be walking more, seeing more, and photographing more. The world is our canvas, and the physicality of photography is most critical to hone in on.
As much as photography is a visual game of solving visual puzzles—putting the foreground, middle ground, and background together in a fleeting decisive moment—photography is also a physical pleasure. This means a stronger photographer will make stronger photographs. How is this possible?
The physical strength within a photographer’s legs and body will determine the output of their photographs. I believe the best compositions are made through movement. Through movement, we can tap into our intuition and respond to life through our gut.
Street photography does not require your brain.
Shoot from your heart, not from your brain.
Forget about everything you think you know about what makes or breaks a good or bad photograph. Detach from the outcome, and embrace the process of photographing more, not less.
The motivation you are looking for derives from your legs, through moving your body onto the front lines of life. Do not seek any external praise or reason for making photographs. We must detach from the outcome of the photographs we make entirely and simply march onwards with the will to press the shutter more. Delete your Instagram account, and make your own website blog using wordpress.org, and host it using your first name and last name on bluehost.com.
Photography is a superpower and gives you the ability to create a new world in a fraction of a second. The world is so open and endless to explore. The photographer thrives by stepping outside their door and embracing the spontaneous now, more. We thrive in chaos by articulating the unknown.
Our camera is the passport, the excuse for us to go out there and see the world.
Our camera is the key that unlocks the door to the multifaceted complexities of life through all of the experiences that we have along our journey.
However,
I wield my camera as a sword, striking through the heart of chaos, revealing the soul of the street, creating visual order and harmony through the spontaneity of everyday life.

Nietzsche challenges the common assumption that self-preservation is the primary instinct of all living beings. Instead of organisms seeking a secure, balanced state (homeostasis), Nietzsche argues that life is more about transformation and growth. The notion of striving for stability excludes the possibility of necessary change, which is a fundamental part of life.
Nietzsche introduces the idea that life itself is not about self-preservation but is a will to power. Living beings do not merely conserve energy but instead seek an optimal expenditure of energy. Nietzsche sees this desire to discharge strength as the driving force behind life.
Nietzsche’s concept of the will to power can be seen in how different drives within us, such as hunger or anger, compete for dominance. When one drive becomes dominant, it inhibits all others. This internal struggle reflects the broader will to power in human behavior.
Nietzsche suggests that all drives, whether internal or external, seek to unify and dominate. This desire for unity is central to his concept of the will to power. However, Nietzsche leaves some ambiguity in defining what this unifying force is.
Nietzsche is critical of Christianity for fostering a slave morality, which he views as weak and resentful. However, he acknowledges that Christianity also contains elements of unity, such as the monotheistic spirit, which complicates his critique.
Carl Jung, a student of Nietzsche’s ideas, took the concept of the will to power and applied it to psychological development. Jung believed that the psyche’s goal is to integrate its many parts into a unified self, which he symbolized in the figure of Christ.
Nietzsche’s critique of narrow gender roles, particularly the rejection of creativity in men, is mirrored in Jung’s idea that integrating the feminine into the masculine is part of a healthy psyche. Jung believed that rejecting creativity or emotional expression stunted personal growth.
Nietzsche critiques the idea that identity is a fixed, subjective construct. He challenges the notion that the “I” or ego is the source of thoughts, arguing instead that thoughts arise from something deeper and more uncontrollable.
For Nietzsche, thoughts and revelations are not things we create but things that happen to us. This idea mirrors religious notions of revelation, where truth is revealed by a higher power.
In social contexts, Nietzsche’s will to power manifests as a unifying spirit, which brings individuals together in shared activities and goals. This unifying spirit can be seen in everything from religious gatherings to concerts and sports events.
Nietzsche challenges traditional notions of objective truth, instead proposing that truth is defined by its utility. Truth, in this sense, is what works in practice, not what corresponds to some external, objective reality.
Nietzsche’s will to power is not merely a desire for domination but a complex drive toward unification and transformation, both within the individual and in society. His critique of self-preservation, Christian morality, and traditional views of truth all stem from this central concept.