Don’t allow an algorithm determine what enters your mind. Unsubscribe from everyone and disable and delete it all.
Only consume information that you pay for. For example- the Peterson Academy lectures are actually worth paying for and consuming. Watching social media content will shove you through a funnel and put you down a path of no return. You will start to subconsciously pick up on unhealthy beliefs and patterns of behavior that are difficult to unlearn.
If you are actively consuming social media content you are susceptible to so much destruction. Just read the Bible, ancient texts, and pay for education
Welcome to Flux Weekly Witness #13, where I look at the photographs that you submit to me in the Flux community.
Today we’re looking through the last five days from Suhaib Al-Jawahri. These photographs were made throughout the month of July in New York City.
Suhaib says he’s finding inspiration from Daido Moriyama and Josef Koudelka, two photographers who use high-contrast black and white aesthetics in a way that’s deeply emotional. Let’s dive in.
Intimate Moments Close to Home
Right off the bat we have this cat looking directly into the lens.
It’s such a small, intimate scene. Something incredibly ordinary, maybe photographed inside the home.
I really resonate with pictures that are homebound—work that’s personal and close to you.
Having a Ricoh with you at all times really lends itself to this kind of photography.
The Strongest Portrait
These next two frames immediately stood out to me.
The intimacy of this child’s eye, combined with the light reflecting off the nose, creates such a special moment.
The vertical framing really emphasizes the gesture of the gaze.
There’s something extremely special about the nuance of the light and the way it falls across the face.
This is probably my strongest frame from the entire set.
Alongside it we have these flowers, and I love pairing human photographs with nature or inanimate objects.
It opens your horizons.
You don’t need to photograph only one thing.
Stay open to all the different complexities of life.
Echoes Between Frames
These photographs of the children work almost like a diptych.
One is photographed from above.
The other shows a boy drinking from a can.
Although they’re different people, there’s something about the framing that makes them feel connected.
On the right, the frame-within-a-frame composition emphasizes the gesture beautifully.
The left image is more mysterious.
The shadows covering the face create ambiguity while turning the hair into a simple geometric shape.
Simple Gestures Matter
Moving back into New York City, we have this textured photograph with the repeated “New York” typography.
Next to it is a man reaching for his glasses.
I can actually tell Suhaib is probably using the crop mode on the Ricoh here because the framing feels much tighter.
It’s a very simple gesture.
But that’s exactly why it works.
Everything in the composition points back toward that small movement.
Even the strip of light in the background helps separate the figure and gives the frame more depth.
Blur as Emotion
One image that really surprised me was this sporting event.
I honestly couldn’t tell if it was a photograph of a photograph or an actual live moment.
The blur, imperfections, and movement make it feel surreal.
You know they’re playing a sport…
But emotionally it becomes something much stranger.
That’s why I enjoy it.
The aesthetic qualities of blur resonate with me much more than technical perfection.
Strange Things Along the Walk
One of my favorite discoveries is this broom balanced across two traffic cones.
These are the moments that reward paying attention.
He also has a really strong sense of when to shoot vertically versus horizontally.
That instinct shows throughout the body of work.
Portraits with Feeling
There are several close-up portraits here that are blurry and imperfect.
I genuinely enjoy that aesthetic.
Especially imagining these printed on old monochrome laser printers using ordinary copy paper.
There’s something about that presentation that really suits the photographs.
One frame feels slightly weaker because the sunglasses remove some of the human connection.
Compositionally it’s still interesting because of the negative space and the relationship between the rectangular forms.
But the next portrait has much more emotion.
Even a simple gesture—covering the nose—creates tension.
That emotional gesture elevates the photograph.
Nature Against Industry
We move into photographs of ivy growing across industrial buildings.
There’s always something compelling about nature slowly reclaiming man-made structures.
Nearby we see stacks of vintage televisions creating repetitive patterns and shapes.
Those repetitions naturally lend themselves to photography.
Framing the Subject
There’s also an interesting photograph of a religious sculpture framed through a window.
Normally cutting off half of the face might feel distracting.
Here it actually works.
Using the architecture itself as a framing device creates something much more intriguing.
Photographing the Phone Era
We hear all the time that street photography has been ruined because everyone is looking down at their phones.
I actually think the better approach is to lean into it.
This close-up of someone’s hand gripping a phone becomes interesting precisely because it reflects the time we’re living in.
Years from now, these everyday gestures may become historically meaningful.
Street photography changes.
Our job is to respond to that change instead of fighting it.
Building Sequences
I almost pair this phone photograph with the portrait that follows.
The close-up face hidden in shadow.
The mustache.
The tension.
Together they almost feel like the same person.
Sometimes photographs naturally begin creating conversations with one another.
Movement Everywhere
We move into blurry photographs on the subway.
Legs repeating across the sidewalk.
A small foot tucked into the corner of the frame.
Graphic compositions built from negative space.
A man moving through blur.
I really enjoyed the energy throughout this sequence.
Looking Beyond People
There’s a man praying.
A silhouetted cyclist.
Graffiti.
An empty parking lot.
Cathedral architecture.
Street infrastructure.
One photograph in particular is packed with visual energy.
Poles.
Curbs.
Leading lines.
Cones.
Manholes.
Shadows.
Everything comes together into one cohesive composition.
Photograph Everything
I appreciate the variety throughout this body of work.
It’s not only about people.
It’s also about strange discoveries along the walk.
Like that broom from earlier.
Or this fuzzy pillow sitting on top of a bench.
Walk through the world believing everything has photographic potential.
Final Thoughts
We finish with a wonderfully textured frame that reads:
“Jesus Saves” alongside “Free Palestine.”
As always, at the back of every Flux issue you’ll find the contact sheets and manifest documents.
If you’d like to print this work yourself, the link is in the description.
If you’d like to submit your own photographs for review, generate your own Flux issue using the link below.
If your work is selected, there’s a chance I’ll review it here on the YouTube channel.
I really enjoyed looking through this body of work.
I’m especially inspired by Suhaib’s use of blur.
Aesthetically, it really resonates with me.
This portrait remains my favorite frame from the entire issue.
I’m currently out for a beautiful walk here in Philadelphia, and today I wanted to share my thoughts on the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome after using it for the past few months.
Honestly, I don’t even know exactly how long I’ve had it. I’ve been using it since release, and today I simply wanted to talk about why this camera means so much to me.
Not from a technical perspective.
But from a philosophical one.
This Camera Changed My Life
I’m obviously biased.
I’m a Ricoh GR user.
But the reason I’m so passionate about this camera is because photography is the most meaningful thing in my life.
The tool you use every day matters.
And having a camera that slips into my pocket and is always ready has completely changed the way I experience life.
Creation gives you an incredible feeling.
It makes you feel purposeful.
Strong.
Alive.
When life becomes overwhelming, I can simply reach into my pocket, pull out the camera, press the shutter, and say yes to life.
That’s what this camera gives me.
Simplicity Creates Freedom
There are countless cameras available today.
But for me, nothing replaces the Ricoh GR.
Its size changes everything.
It’s always with you.
It’s always ready.
And because of that, photography becomes effortless.
The monochrome version takes that philosophy even further.
By removing color entirely, one more decision disappears.
No more wondering:
Should this be color?
Should this be black and white?
That choice is already made.
You’re simply left with photography.
When you remove choices…
You remove hesitation.
A Philosophical Decision
The jump from the GR III to the GR IV Monochrome is honestly pretty small.
But that’s not why I chose it.
Choosing a monochrome camera is me making a statement.
It’s me saying:
“I’m a monochrome photographer.”
It’s a philosophy more than a specification.
That mindset changes everything.
The Red Filter Is Magic
One of my favorite additions is the red filter.
Even though the camera is limited to monochrome, adding the red filter completely transforms how light renders.
The exact same scene suddenly becomes something entirely different.
That surprise never gets old.
Every time I press the shutter I’m curious to see:
How will reality be translated into a photograph?
How will this sensor interpret light?
Why I Believe Monochrome Lasts Forever
For me, monochrome photography is sustainable.
It’s something I can see myself practicing for the rest of my life.
By stripping away color, photography naturally becomes more abstract.
I’m shooting with:
Maximum contrast
Crushed shadows
Highlight priority
JPEG only
Everything baked into the camera
There is no post-processing.
The photograph already exists.
And something interesting happens.
You think:
What you see is what you get.
But in reality…
What you get back is what you didn’t see.
High-contrast monochrome transforms reality.
Even the most ordinary walk becomes fascinating because light behaves in ways I never expected.
Every day feels new again.
Infinite Curiosity
Because of this setup, I no longer need interesting subjects.
Light is enough.
Every shadow.
Every reflection.
Every silhouette.
Everything becomes worth photographing.
That’s what keeps me going outside every single day.
Photography becomes play.
Not work.
There Is Nothing Left To Remove
Over the years I’ve been simplifying everything.
Now my photography consists of:
A black box
One shutter button
Automatic settings
High contrast
Small JPEG files
That’s it.
There’s nothing else left to subtract.
And I’ve realized something.
The more you remove…
The more your own way of seeing begins to emerge.
Style Comes From Repetition
People often think style comes from shooting black and white.
Or from using a certain camera.
I don’t believe that.
Style comes from repetition.
It comes from instinct.
My entire process with the Ricoh GR is built around reaching the point where thinking disappears.
All that’s left is intuition.
Multiple photographers could use this exact setup…
And every single one would produce different work.
Because instinct is personal.
A Workflow That Disappears
When I get home, everything stays simple.
I plug the camera into my phone.
Scroll through the JPEGs.
Then I print them.
Not on expensive photo paper.
On cheap office copy paper.
And somehow…
That gives me more joy.
I’m embracing imperfection.
I’m embracing simplicity.
The physical object matters more than perfect print quality.
Photography As A Personal Diary
Monochrome feels deeply personal.
It goes beyond documentation.
The photographs become emotional.
A visual diary.
A reflection of my days.
If you’re looking for a way to genuinely express yourself through photography…
I honestly don’t think there’s a better tool than the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome.
Forgetting You’re A Photographer
One of my favorite parts about this camera is that nobody notices it.
I don’t wear a camera around my neck.
I don’t look like a photographer.
I’m simply walking through life.
Then something happens.
I pull the camera from my pocket.
Take one photograph.
And continue walking.
That feeling is incredibly liberating.
Removing the viewfinder.
Using Snapshot Focus.
Making imperfect compositions.
All of those limitations become strengths.
They keep me curious.
They keep me playful.
Photography For Life
Using the Ricoh GR has genuinely changed my life.
It has made photography joyful again.
It has made me more curious.
It has given me a process I can imagine sustaining for the rest of my life.
And that’s ultimately why I continue sharing these thoughts.
Not because I’m interested in gear.
But because I’m interested in what a simple tool can do for the way we experience life.
If that resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
If you ever have any doubts about what you should photograph, just go to a place where you can look out towards the horizon or up at the clouds above. When you visit these locations and have a clear view, you’ll start to realize the infinite expanse and the potential in the unknown. If I don’t know what I should photograph, I instantly seek the clouds.
Otherwise, just look below your feet, and notice the beauty of the details beneath
I’m currently walking around one of my favorite places—Penn’s Landing here in Philadelphia.
Check it out.
Construction.
Yeah, we’ve had construction here for the past year or two, and we’ve got a new park that’s coming soon. Well… probably not soon. Maybe 2030. It’s going to take a while.
But let me say it here first:
This is going to be one of the most beautiful parks in the country.
You might be wondering why.
Look at this beautiful river.
The park is going to extend over the highway with this gigantic bridge connecting Old City directly into Penn’s Landing. I just think it’s going to be incredible.
This is one of those places I naturally gravitate toward.
Open spaces.
The water.
The horizon.
I come here to decompress.
To look out into the distance.
To watch people.
To feel the sun on my skin.
Sometimes I take my shirt off and just walk.
I feel good by the water.
I feel good when I have a clear view of the horizon.
It feels like anything is possible.
I love watching the planes fly overhead.
I like staring at the bridge and watching the cars move in the distance.
It reminds me of being a kid.
My brother, one of our cousins, and I used to ride our bikes around here exploring. We even climbed on top of one of those old buildings—I think it was some kind of navy fortress.
Those memories never really leave you.
Freestyle Vlogging
Today I’m just freestyle vlogging with the Sony DCR-SR40.
Check it out.
I was told I’d make a good influencer.
So here’s my commercial…
The Vibram FiveFinger Commercial
This is my official advertisement for the Vibram FiveFinger ELX shoe.
Transcend the modern world and experience what it’s like to tap into the infinite unknown by grounding yourself in nature.
Barefoot sensation.
Honestly…
It’s kind of like wearing normal shoes is a condom.
But barefoot shoes let you actually feel the sensations of the earth beneath your feet.
So there you go.
My official Vibram FiveFinger announcement.
A quick advertisement from Flux TV.
That would actually make a pretty good commercial.
What do you think?
What It Means to Be an Influencer
What does it actually mean to be an influencer?
I don’t think it means promoting products.
I don’t think influence comes from convincing people to buy something.
I think being an influencer means becoming undeniably great at something.
When you’re undeniably great…
People naturally want to emulate you.
They don’t copy you because you told them to.
They copy you because the work speaks for itself.
Maybe being an influencer is the modern-day luxury.
Not because of fame.
But because we live in a world where everyone is constantly consuming.
Food.
Media.
Entertainment.
Everything.
To be a producer…
To be a creator…
To be a mover.
To be a shaker.
To actually be out in the field doing something—
That feels like one of the greatest privileges you can have.
The Real Definition of Luxury
The ultimate privilege today seems to be the freedom of your mind.
The freedom to walk.
To wander.
To stand beneath the sun.
To read books.
To write.
To create.
To make art.
Being outdoors is a privilege.
Maybe lifting weights is a privilege too.
Check this out—they’ve got a gym here at the construction site.
These guys are working hard making things happen.
Movement itself is a privilege.
Simply moving your body.
Being under the sun.
Being beside the water.
Surrounding yourself with nature.
Stretching.
Drinking clean water.
Eating good food.
Having access to red meat.
Drinking raw milk.
Having enough free time to simply look up at the clouds.
To me…
This is luxury.
Luxury isn’t sitting in some ivory tower.
It isn’t unlimited television channels.
It isn’t Uber Eats.
Luxury is much closer to the earth.
It’s grounded in the simplest parts of being alive.
Gratitude
Today I’m grateful for the sun.
I’m grateful for the vitality in my body that lets me walk.
I think the biggest mindset shift is moving away from constantly chasing something…
…and instead recognizing what you already have.
This moment.
Your body.
Your consciousness.
The ability to experience.
To feel.
To think clearly.
This is what matters most to me.
Having freedom.
Freedom of time.
Freedom of mind.
And the privilege of movement.
These are the things I cherish most deeply in life.
Follow the Light
Check it out.
The geese.
You could ride the geese.
You want to be free like the birds.
Out beneath the sun.
Moving.
Living.
So I encourage you to think about what you’re grateful for.
What does privilege actually mean?
What is luxury?
I think luxury lives in the body.
Luxury is vitality.
Having energy.
Feeling powerful.
Feeling alive.
Those things elevate your mood.
They make you unstoppable.
Of course…
We’re flesh.
We’ll eventually die.
We’re imperfect creatures who make mistakes.
But when you begin from a place of physical abundance—
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante, currently walking around Center City Philadelphia.
Today I’ve been thinking about goals—and why the goal of your creative practice, whether you’re making photographs, videos, drawings, paintings, or sculptures, should be fulfilled within the process itself.
I think this is one of the most important mindset shifts any creative person can make.
Too often we chase the outcome.
A great photograph.
An impactful moment.
Perfect light.
Perfect composition.
Perfect timing.
But those moments are rare.
That’s not to say you can’t create meaningful work. It’s simply recognizing that the only way to arrive at those moments is to remain fully engaged in whatever it is you’re doing.
The photograph is never the goal. Presence is.
The Goal Is Movement
As a photographer, I think the ultimate goal is surprisingly simple:
Move your body.
The more you walk, the more you see.
The more you see, the more you photograph.
The more you photograph, the more curious you become.
And so I think curiosity should be our true orientation as photographers.
The goal isn’t making a masterpiece.
The goal is fulfilled through walking, exploring, noticing, and making new work.
Sometimes the greatest success isn’t the photograph you bring home.
Sometimes it’s simply that you went outside.
Curiosity Creates Longevity
I believe it takes a lot of time spent in the world before something genuinely interesting reveals itself.
That’s why curiosity matters.
Curiosity allows you to keep returning.
It gives your practice longevity.
That’s what I’ve tried to cultivate with my own work—a rhythm that’s sustainable enough to repeat every day.
Not because every day produces a great photograph.
But because every day offers another opportunity to see.
Reduce Decisions
One practical thing I’d recommend is creating a routine.
Know where you’re going.
Know where you’re walking.
Give yourself a destination or a street to follow.
When you remove unnecessary decisions, something interesting happens.
You stop hesitating.
When you stop hesitating, you stop thinking.
When you stop thinking, you start doing.
Photography is instinct.
Photography Is Physical
I also think it’s important to recognize just how physical photography really is.
Every photograph is simply the result of your position relative to the subject and the exact moment you press the shutter.
That’s it.
Photography isn’t only about seeing.
It’s about moving.
It’s about positioning yourself.
It’s about responding.
Recognizing the physicality of photography is incredibly important.
Play Instead of Performance
If you’re walking…
If you’re observing…
If you’re responding with your camera…
If you’re doing it every day with a spirit of play…
Then I genuinely believe it’s inevitable that you’ll eventually create something meaningful.
Whether that meaning is visual or emotional doesn’t really matter.
It reveals itself with time.
As artists, I think movement itself is the practice.
Whether that’s physically walking or slowly chipping away at a drawing, what matters is that you’re engaged in the act.
Even if today’s work isn’t your best.
Remove Good and Bad
The work I find most fulfilling isn’t necessarily the work that performs the best.
It’s simply the work that I genuinely enjoy looking at.
And that’s completely subjective.
When you stop labeling your work as good or bad, you create space for something authentic to emerge.
That’s where your own visual language begins.
Return to the Childlike State
Photography should feel like play.
Every morning is another opportunity to transform.
To evolve.
To change.
To remain in flux.
I genuinely believe that joy is found through movement.
Not through arriving.
You never want to feel like you’ve reached the peak.
Return to day one every day.
Remain an amateur forever.
Interestingly enough, the word amateur simply means to love.
If you continue making work because you love it—not because of money, recognition, or validation—you’ll eventually create something that’s authentically yours.
And I think that’s what we all seek as artists.
Show Up Every Day
If you’re trying to cultivate your own way of seeing…
Detach from the outcome.
Find meaning in showing up.
Walk.
Observe.
Respond.
Produce.
The act itself is enough.
The Greatest Gift
Personally, I think the greatest gift isn’t even the photographs.
It’s simply being outside.
Fresh air.
The sun on your skin.
Meeting strangers.
Looking at beautiful people.
Looking at beautiful light.
Remaining present.
From that state of presence, life occasionally delivers you something extraordinary.
Your only responsibility is to be there when it happens.
Camera in hand.
Ready to respond.
Photography Is an Excuse to Look Closely
Photography has become one of my favorite ways to experience life.
Not because of the images.
Because it gives me permission to look closely.
To notice.
To feel deeply.
The camera becomes a vessel.
Life delivers.
You respond.
That’s all there is.
The Autotelic Approach
Ultimately, I think the goal is presence.
Being aware.
Being ready.
Responding without hesitation.
Detach from the outcome.
Embrace an autotelic approach to photography, where the reward is found within the act itself.
Within the art of walking.
Within noticing.
Within photographing.
When you remove the outcome as the goal, you’ll start to feel whole.
That feeling of wholeness comes through acting.
Through moving.
Through shooting.
Through producing.
And I genuinely believe there’s no better way to spend a day than walking under the sun, playing with a camera, curious about what life might offer next.
Today I want to share with you the power of printing your photography.
A lot of photographers today are simply making pictures and posting them on Instagram. While that’s how we share our work now, I think there’s something to be said about the tangibility of flipping through your photography physically.
Personally, I’ve found a workflow that makes printing effortless—and because of that, I actually print my work all the time.
I Prefer Cheap Copy Paper
The way I enjoy looking at my photographs might surprise you.
I genuinely enjoy looking through my work printed on cheap copy paper.
Regular printer paper. A monochrome LaserJet printer. Nothing fancy.
I love the imperfections of the prints. There’s something aesthetically beautiful about the way high-contrast black and white photography renders on inexpensive office paper.
This has become my personal workflow.
Simplicity Changed Everything
Because I’ve simplified my photography down to high-contrast black and white, printing became incredibly easy.
I no longer depend on my Canon Pro-1000 every time I want to hold my work in my hands.
With color photography, printing becomes almost a science.
You have to think about:
ICC profiles
Paper types
Color rendering
Processing
Test prints
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
It’s an incredible craft.
But for me?
I wanted something frictionless.
Print-on-Demand Still Has Value
I’ve also made books through Blurb using their standard black and white trade paper.
They’re great.
The matte finish feels nice. The books are enjoyable to hold. They have imperfections.
And honestly…
I like that.
But even after making professionally bound books, I still enjoy looking at my work on simple printer paper more than anything else.
DIY Sketchbooks
Another thing I love doing is making little sketchbooks.
They’re small enough to slip into a pocket.
If I meet another photographer—or someone interested in what I do—I can simply hand them the book.
The way I make these is incredibly simple.
I use a Canon Selphy CP1500, printing eight photographs onto a single 4×6 sheet.
They’re quick. They’re portable. They’re fun to share.
The Brother Laser Printer
For most of my printing I use a monochrome Brother LaserJet.
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante, currently walking along Penn’s Landing here in Philadelphia.
Today I wanted to share some thoughts about creation, art, and the act of not taking yourself too seriously as an artist.
Seriousness Kills Joy
I think seriousness kills joy.
When you’re creating with the mentality of work—when you’re attached to making something important, building a project, chasing a theme, or forcing a narrative—you lose the spontaneity that made you want to create in the first place.
Even with street photography, it’s easy to become obsessed with making strong photographs instead of simply responding to what’s in front of you.
I think the real joy is found in:
Curiosity
Serendipity
Unpredictability
Play
When you’re walking through the street making photographs or videos, cultivate your inner curiosity. Follow your gut. Follow what feels effortless.
Create from a place of abundance instead of obligation.
Become a Big Kid Again
I think that happens when you’re no longer working.
You’re simply playing.
Even right now I’m zooming into the water because I’m curious.
The reflections almost look like stars or galaxies.
There’s something about this old CCD Handycam that resonates with me. The softness. The imperfections. The way 480p renders light.
It doesn’t feel like I’m making content.
It feels like I’m making a memory.
Everything I Make Is a Visual Diary
I treat photography, videography, and everything I create as a visual diary.
A diary is simply a record of your everyday life.
Nothing more.
When you approach creation this way, you naturally find more things worth making.
The opposite is creating for an outcome.
The moment you decide exactly what something should become before you’ve even experienced it…
…the joy disappears.
The joy is in experimentation.
The joy is in chaos.
The joy is in trying something you’ve never done before.
Starting From Day One
Filming with this old Handycam has brought me back to being a beginner.
Every day feels like day one again.
And I think that’s where joy lives.
Trying something new.
Changing.
Remaining open.
Why Video Feels Different
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of the visual diary.
Photography has always been my language, but video feels different.
When I watch old footage, it resonates with me more deeply as memory.
A photograph leaves mystery.
Within those four corners, there are questions.
Video feels closer to reality.
The movement.
The sound.
The colour.
All of these elements combine into something that feels much closer to remembering than simply looking.
The Original Spirit of YouTube
I think about the very first video uploaded to YouTube.
“Me at the Zoo.”
It’s only about fifteen seconds long.
Jawed simply records himself at the zoo, talks briefly about elephants having long trunks, and the video ends.
That’s it.
No hook.
No thumbnail strategy.
No algorithm.
Just someone preserving a moment.
There’s something incredibly beautiful about that.
Imperfection Is the Aesthetic
The camera matters.
This Handycam reminds me of childhood home videos.
Like your dad filming family memories.
The tool itself shapes how the memory feels.
That’s why I love imperfection.
Low resolution.
CCD artifacts.
Weird reflections.
480p.
High contrast.
Grain.
Black and white.
With the Ricoh GR, I intentionally embrace grit and imperfection because those qualities feel more honest to me.
They’re closer to memory than perfection ever could be.
Even filming my face awkwardly close to the lens without worrying about composition…
That’s part of it.
It’s raw.
It’s immediate.
It’s real.
Remove External Validation
The only way you’ll find your style is by removing the noise.
Likes.
Comments.
Metrics.
Performance.
Social media trains you to create for approval.
I don’t want that.
That’s why I disable likes and comments on my videos.
Everything I make exists because I think it should exist.
Nothing else.
I only create things that I personally want to see in the world.
That mindset changes everything.
You begin creating because making things feels good.
Not because you’re expecting something back.
Nothing Can Stop You
That’s how I feel now.
Nothing can stop me.
Because there’s nobody left to please.
Creation has become something deeply personal.
It’s simply how I cultivate joy in my everyday life.
I don’t need something to go viral.
I don’t need a sensation.
Life is short.
Why spend it chasing outcomes?
Create What You Actually Want to Create
If you want to start a YouTube channel…
Share the videos you genuinely want to make.
Don’t make videos for the algorithm.
Don’t make photographs because they’ll perform well.
Trust your intuition.
Remove the judgment.
Forget what’s trending.
Forget what gets clicks.
Create from your own perspective.
That’s the only place your real voice exists.
Stop Consuming
I genuinely think the best thing you can do is disconnect.
Delete Instagram.
Unsubscribe from everybody on YouTube.
Stop consuming.
Start creating.
Because the moment you’re creating instead of endlessly consuming…
…life becomes richer.
Consumption might inspire you for a moment.
But too much consumption becomes stagnation.
I don’t want stagnation.
I want flow.
I want to move my body.
Experience life.
Notice things.
Record them.
Share them.
Then move on.
I Don’t Need an Audience
I think this is why I’m here.
To create.
I don’t need anyone to affirm that.
I affirm myself through making things.
I don’t need millions of comments.
The only feedback that really matters comes from the people closest to me.
My mother.
My brother.
The people actually in my life.
Everything else…
They’re just numbers on a screen.
Digital shadows.
Illusions.
Remember That Life Is Short
Recognize the impermanence of life.
Recognize that one day you’ll die.
Oddly enough, that’s liberating.
Because from that realization comes clarity.
You’ll finally create what you want to create.
You’ll find beauty in ordinary days.
You’ll begin treating your life as something worth documenting.
That’s all a visual diary really is.
Your perspective.
Your everyday experience.
Without worrying about where it ends up.
Just make things because you genuinely enjoy making them.
Welcome to Flux Archive #2, where I revisit photographs I’ve made over the years through my black-and-white visual diary practice.
Today we’re looking at Flux Volume 002, photographs made between February 7, 2023, and April 12, 2023.
Without further ado, let’s jump into the work.
The Flux Protocol
Every Flux zine begins with the Flux Protocol.
Flux is an open-source chronological photography publishing system that I’ve developed.
If you’d like to create your own zine like this, click the link in the description. You can generate your own publication, submit it to me, and maybe I’ll review it here on the channel.
Photography Without Chasing Greatness
The first photograph shows two socks protruding from a man sleeping on the street.
It’s a simple image.
But it reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.
The act of making things simply for the sake of making them.
Photography, for me, has become an autotelic practice.
That means the reward isn’t making a great photograph.
The reward is found within the act itself.
The walk.
The observation.
The curiosity.
The willingness to respond to whatever life places in front of me.
The process is the goal.
Saying Yes to Curiosity
As I move through the city, I’m constantly noticing small details.
A shoe caught between the cracks.
My own reflection becoming a self-portrait.
Two strangers embracing.
A small gesture between hands.
I’m no longer asking myself whether these photographs will be considered “good.”
If something sparks my curiosity, I make the photograph.
That freedom has changed everything.
Photography becomes less about performance and more about paying attention.
Beyond Documentation
As aware as I am of reality, I’m equally interested in going beyond it.
Light surprises me.
Reflections surprise me.
The way shadows fall across architecture surprises me.
A beam of light striking the Masonic Temple.
Clouds drifting overhead.
Branches reaching into the sky.
Those moments remind me that photography isn’t only about documenting what’s there.
It’s about responding emotionally to what you see.
Photography as a Way of Being
Photography has gradually become less of an activity and more of a way of being.
It helps me remain present.
The present moment is the greatest gift life gives us.
Standing beneath moving clouds.
Watching light transform a building.
Listening to the city breathe.
Every click of the shutter becomes another way of saying yes to life.
Extraordinary Moments Are Not the Goal
Sometimes extraordinary things happen.
A child holding a toy gun.
A car on fire.
Unexpected drama unfolding in front of me.
But I never leave home searching for these moments.
I’m simply walking.
Open.
Sensitive.
Available.
Because I spend so much time photographing, my instincts have become automatic.
When something unfolds, I don’t hesitate.
I respond.
Those impactful moments are rare.
That’s why it’s important to already be outside when they happen.
Follow Places That Bring You Joy
One photograph shows the Philadelphia skyline from the Benjamin Franklin Bridge.
This isn’t a destination because it’s famous.
It’s simply somewhere I love walking.
That’s something I encourage everyone to do.
Go to the places that naturally pull you.
Photograph the locations your inner child wants to revisit.
Follow your curiosity without hesitation.
Don’t Box Yourself In
Throughout this volume you’ll find:
Landscapes
Portraits
Street moments
Architecture
Details
Reflections
Light studies
I’ve stopped believing that photography has to fit neatly into one category.
Working within a simple constraint—high-contrast black and white using a compact camera—actually gives me more freedom, not less.
I don’t worry whether something qualifies as street photography.
I simply respond to life.
Street Photography Is More Nuanced Than Rules
Street photography isn’t about rigid definitions.
It isn’t about deciding whether asking permission is acceptable.
Or whether candid photographs are somehow more authentic.
It’s about responding to humanity.
Sometimes I ask permission.
Sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes I make portraits.
Sometimes I photograph buildings.
Sometimes I photograph reflected light.
There are countless ways to engage with the street.
The more freedom you allow yourself, the longer you’ll remain creatively alive.
Becoming the Archivist of Your City
One of the biggest shifts in my thinking has been treating myself as an archivist of Philadelphia.
Many of the places in this zine no longer exist.
Penn’s Landing has changed dramatically.
Buildings have disappeared.
Construction has transformed entire blocks.
By making photographs without worrying about immediate impact, I’ve unknowingly preserved pieces of the city that are already gone.
Photography preserves space and time.
That’s incredibly meaningful.
Five years from now…
Ten years from now…
Twenty years from now…
Those photographs may carry far more weight than they do today.
Let Time Give the Work Meaning
When you stop chasing immediate validation, something interesting happens.
The photographs begin collecting meaning over time.
Not because they’re technically perfect.
But because they become evidence that you were there.
That you witnessed your city.
That you paid attention.
Thinking of yourself as the archivist of your hometown gives every walk a quiet sense of purpose.
Change Your Perspective
Go slow.
Allow life to come toward you.
Look up as often as you look down.
Photograph the sky.
Photograph the pavement.
Experiment with different perspectives.
Some of my favorite portraits happened because I switched into macro mode and moved incredibly close.
Small changes in perspective often create entirely new photographs.
A Reflection of the Internal World
Near the end of this volume is a photograph of myself.
I’m holding a bottle of water.
A book I picked up from church.
My kendama.
Although photography documents the external world, it ultimately becomes a reflection of the internal one.
Every photograph says something about how I was experiencing life at that moment.
That’s what a visual diary really is.
Final Thoughts
At the back of every Flux zine you’ll find a complete contact sheet.
Each volume contains:
36 photographs
Approximately 44 pages
A QR code linking directly to the digital archive
Everything is available online.
If you’d like to explore this volume yourself, you can download the PDF, print it at home, and experience it as a physical publication.
Hopefully this volume encourages you to go outside, slow down, and begin photographing your own life.
Treat yourself as the archivist of your hometown.
Remain curious.
Trust your instincts.
And let time reveal the meaning of your work.
If you’d like to join the Flux community, click Join here on YouTube or submit your own work through the Flux Generator.
Welcome to Flux Weekly Witness #11, where I look at the work submitted by members of the Flux community.
Today we’re looking at Flux 5 by Brad Pickle, made from June 23rd to June 28th in Alabama.
Brad has been working with a creative constraint: the square format.
We looked at his work a couple of weeks ago, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to check back in and see how his photography is evolving.
Learning to See Differently
I can immediately see that the way Brad is looking at life is transforming.
He’s focusing on:
Light and shadow
Geometry
Shape and form
Texture
The quiet, mundane details of everyday life
Rather than fighting against where he lives, he’s using it to his advantage.
There is no excuse not to start creating, no matter where you live.
Whether you’re photographing leaves, your own shadow on a wall, or a simple fence, there’s infinite possibility if you’re willing to look closely.
Elevating the Ordinary
Throughout this body of work, Brad finds beauty in simple things.
A fence becomes an exploration of texture.
A bird in flight becomes a small visual surprise.
A one-way sign transforms into an abstract composition through the use of the square frame.
Instead of documenting objects as facts, he’s arranging shapes, letters, stickers, contrast, and negative space into something visually engaging.
Today I want to share some thoughts on my philosophy of photographing more instead of less, and why I believe you should shoot a lot of photographs when you’re out on the street.
Street Photography Is a Numbers Game
As a street photographer, it’s important to recognize that this game is a numbers game.
The more you photograph, the more opportunities you give yourself to make a successful image.
It’s like anything in sports.
Whether you’re stepping into the batting cage every day to practice your swing or standing at the free-throw line working on your jump shot, improvement comes from putting in the reps.
If you’re hesitating…
If you’re not pressing the shutter…
If you’re not engaging with the simple act of making photographs…
…it’s going to become a detriment to your practice.
Stop Treating Film and Digital Differently
Whether you’re shooting digital or film, I don’t think you should approach them differently.
The camera you use shouldn’t influence whether or not you decide to make a frame.
The equipment doesn’t matter nearly as much as your willingness to respond to what’s in front of you.
Inspiration Isn’t Coming
The real secret with street photography is this:
If you’re waiting for inspiration before you click the shutter, it’s probably never going to come.
Moments that feel obviously incredible are rare.
If you’re constantly waiting for “the perfect photograph”…
If you’re carrying around preconceived ideas about what a good photograph should look like…
…you’re simply going to stop making photographs altogether.
And that’s the truth.
Practice Responding
Instead of waiting, get into the habit of responding.
When people are walking toward you, practice making frames.
Practice arranging your subject in relation to the background.
Practice your composition.
Practice your timing.
Practice your relationship with the light.
Every frame is another repetition.
Every click is another opportunity to cultivate instinct.
Eventually, when something genuinely extraordinary appears, you’ll already be ready.
You won’t hesitate.
You’ll simply respond.
Hesitation Is Holding You Back
I honestly believe hesitation is one of the biggest things holding street photographers back.
We spend so much time looking at history.
Studying books.
Analyzing great photographs.
Learning what we think is “good.”
But the only way to make photographs like that…
…is to start making photographs.
You have to shoot.
You have to stop hesitating.
Street photography is already difficult.
Why make it even harder by limiting yourself?
Don’t limit what you photograph.
Don’t limit when you photograph.
Don’t constantly judge whether something is interesting enough.
The Magic Lives in the Mundane
The name of the game is the mundane.
Even right now…
Standing at a bus stop…
Watching a woman’s hand resting on top of her head…
Seeing light reflecting through glass surfaces…
You could argue there’s nothing inherently interesting happening.
But that’s not the point.
It’s your perspective.
It’s how you position your body.
It’s your timing.
It’s your framing.
It’s your understanding of light.
Those decisions transform ordinary moments into something extraordinary.
Control What You Can Control
A simple thought:
Recognize what’s inside your control and what’s outside your control.
What’s outside your control?
Seeing something incredible.
Making a masterpiece.
The world giving you amazing moments.
What’s inside your control?
Your curiosity.
Your enthusiasm.
Your willingness to press the shutter.
If you shift your practice from hoping to doing, you’ll find far more success over time.
Cultivate Instinct
The only way to develop instinct…
The only way to enter a flow state…
…is through repetition.
Through clicking that damn shutter.
Stop overanalyzing whether a photograph is going to be good.
Just make photographs.
You’ll be surprised by what you discover when you simply give yourself permission to try.
Say Yes to Life
Go slow.
Let life flow toward you.
Respond to mundane situations even when you believe nothing is happening.
Think of every click of the shutter as saying yes to life.
Stay curious.
Ask questions.
Cultivate instinct.
Eventually you’ll begin finding photographs that are truly impactful.
But the only path there is repetition.
Shoot more.
Think less.
Stop Dwelling. Start Doing.
I really believe this is something that holds a lot of people back.
Hopefully this encourages you to spend less time dwelling and more time doing.
Hesitation truly is the thief of all joy.
It will destroy your practice.
Get out of your head.
Get into your body.
Recognize there’s infinite possibility hiding inside the mundane nature of everyday life.
The juice of street photography is spontaneity.
It’s surprise.
It’s discovering something despite believing there was nothing there at all.
Stop worrying about whether the outcome will be great.
Instead, cultivate your own way of seeing.
Develop your own way of framing.
Approach the street in a way where, regardless of what appears in front of you, you’re always ready to respond with instinct.
Currently along Penn’s Landing here, looking out toward the Delaware River. I wanted to make a video with the Sony DCR-SR40.
Welcome to Flux TV.
Memory Lives in Places
Today’s thought is about memory.
I’m just going to speak candidly.
Whenever I return to this location and look out toward the horizon, the boats, the river—there’s something ancient and primal within me that resonates extremely deeply.
I think about George Washington crossing this river.
I think about the Lenape people who originally lived here.
I think about everyone who has crossed these waters before me.
The river is always flowing. Always changing.
Yet despite that, we’re still here.
We’re still breathing.
Still experiencing.
Still moving through life.
There’s something invigorating about being near a body of water.
It’s almost like every memory I’ve ever experienced flows through me all at once.
I don’t know why, but it excites me.
That’s why I always come back to this part of the city.
It makes me feel alive.
The Places That Made Me
I remember being a young boy crossing the Benjamin Franklin Bridge.
Visiting New Jersey.
Going to the beach.
Playing with my neighbors Eddie and Sam.
Building sandcastles.
Swimming.
Surfing.
Snowboarding during the winter.
My brother and I would go to the mountains.
My Aunt Vicki had a beautiful home where she taught us how to fish, shoot a BB gun, hike, and canoe.
All of those memories seem to arrive at the exact same moment whenever I’m standing here.
I don’t know if other people experience this with certain places.
Maybe they do.
Maybe they don’t.
It’s not really nostalgia.
It’s something else.
Photography Creates Its Own Timeline
One thing I’ve been thinking about is how photographs and videos create their own timeline.
Their own universe.
As human beings, we’re constantly trying to tell stories.
We’re trying to share something with each other.
Maybe that’s why photography feels so powerful.
It’s the act of remembering.
The simple act of creating a memory.
Whether it’s a still image or moving video.
Why Old Cameras Feel Like Memories
There’s something about this old-school Handycam footage.
480p.
4:3 aspect ratio.
Watching it back on a television.
It almost feels like a memory.
The imperfections.
The softness.
The aesthetic.
The visual qualities themselves remind me of memory.
I feel something very similar whenever I shoot black and white photography.
Maybe that’s what I’m trying to express.
Maybe, deep down, everything I photograph is simply an act of remembering.
Maybe photography is nothing more than remembering made visible.
Creating in the Face of Mortality
When you go back through old videos and photographs, you’re retracing your life.
You’re retracing your steps.
Eventually you’re confronted with the realization that one day your life will end.
One day you will die.
While I’m alive, I want to live freely.
I want to create.
I want to share.
I want to express myself through photographs and videos.
Every time I publish something online, it feels like I’m contending with that existential thought.
Because I think deep down we all want to leave something behind.
Something beyond our flesh.
Something that becomes a vessel through which people can remember us.
Or remember what we had to say.
There’s something incredibly primal about our desire to create.
To share.
To tell stories.
To immortalize ourselves in some small way.
Every individual has their own unique story.
Every individual has their own perspective worth sharing.
I think that’s something really special.
The Beauty of Everyday Life
Whenever I travel—or even when I stay in my hometown and simply meet someone new—I’m reminded of how beautiful the world is.
There’s so much to see.
So much to explore.
So much to experience.
So much to photograph.
Life is incredibly short.
Maybe while we’re here we should create more memories.
Share them with others.
Tell our stories.
Listen to someone else’s story.
Photography and video are incredibly powerful forms of self-expression because they allow us to remember.
Watching My Own Memories
Sometimes I go back and watch my own YouTube videos.
Gardening with my godmother.
POV travel videos.
Trying different foods.
Walking through the woods talking about whatever happens to be on my mind.
Even as the creator, it’s fascinating to consume my own work.
To revisit that point in my life.
To remember what I was thinking.
It’s a beautiful feeling that we even have this technology.
Our ancestors made cave paintings.
They carved sculptures.
They painted portraits.
They wrote stories.
All in an attempt to preserve memory.
Today we can simply pull out an iPhone or a camera.
Press record.
Capture a moment.
And, hypothetically, let it live forever.
To hear your own voice.
To watch your own expressions.
To experience life again from your own point of view.
That still feels like an incredible novelty to me.
Maybe one day this part of the city will be finished and we’ll have a beautiful park here.
