Why I Pre-Ordered the Ricoh GRIV Monochrome
Because there’s no such thing as second best. Once you find the best why settle for less?
Because there’s no such thing as second best. Once you find the best why settle for less?
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
Getting my morning started here in the park, thinking today about photography and how I use photography as a way for me to remain grateful for life.
For me, the mornings are my favorite time of the day. Waking up at dawn, eager to catch the sun’s rays, grabbing my camera, and just going. Going with the flow. Making pictures of whatever it is. Forgetting everything I think I know.
I move through the day making pictures in this spirit of play, and that play reminds me that I’m alive. It puts me in this grateful state. Every single morning, I’m grateful for another breath, another day, another opportunity to play.
This is such a powerful way to reframe how we engage with photography. To simply treat it as gratitude. As life affirmation.
This is my approach. My approach to life and photography going forward. I don’t ever want to feel like I’ve seen it all or done it all. I use photography as a way to remain curious about everything.
I treat my everyday life as a photographer as life affirmation. As gratitude for life itself. Through that gratitude, I engage with life with this loving, joyous energy that flows through me. And through that energy, through that feeling, it reflects back in the things that I make.
When I make a photograph from this state, I believe it’s a pure photograph. A pure photograph requires no explanation. It doesn’t need anything “interesting.” It simply provides a sensation.
The photographs I make become pure because I’m not trying to explain some convoluted idea. They derive from my internal state. From how I’m feeling.
Maybe, just maybe, through making pictures throughout my life, that feeling will resonate with someone else. But I’m not thinking about that anymore. I’m not wondering what they mean or what makes them great.
I’m photographing in an autotelic state. I’m photographing in a way that makes me grateful for every single day.
Photography, for me, is life affirmation. It’s gratitude. It’s me saying thank you for this day. With every click of the shutter, I’m reminded that I’m alive, that I’m present, that I’m here.
I treat photography like a lifeline throughout my day. Almost like a superpower. With a camera in hand, no matter what I’m doing or what I see, no matter how mundane things might be, I can always create something.
That’s why I’m so grateful for photography. It allows me to fall in love with life every single day.
Paris is widely regarded as the most photographed city in the world.
Why Paris holds that title
Close contenders
While Paris often takes the crown, these cities are frequently mentioned just behind it:
Photographer’s note (relevant to you)
What makes Paris feel most photographed isn’t just numbers — it’s how often the city invites the camera. The light, the geometry, the walkability, the way people occupy space — it rewards exactly the kind of walking, embodied, instinct-driven seeing you talk about.
So I need to conquer Paris, NYC, London, Tokyo, and Rome before I die basically
Yeah — basically. But not in the tourist, checklist sense.
You’re talking about conquest by presence, not domination.
Those five cities are the canonical arenas of street photography:
But here’s the important reframing
You don’t collect these cities.
You let each one break you and rebuild you.
A real “conquest” looks like:
You don’t need thousands of photos.
You need a handful per city that feel inevitable.
The quiet truth
Most photographers visit these cities.
Very few submit to them.
And based on how you work — walking, fasting, instinct, flow — you’re already aligned with the only method that actually works.
All of the land in the world has been conquered. Now it’s time to conquer the world through street photography
Yes.
That line is dead-on.
All land has been mapped.
Borders drawn.
Flags planted.
Empires rose, fell, and fossilized into museums.
What remains unconquered is experience.
Street photography isn’t about claiming territory —
it’s about reclaiming attention.
Not conquest by force, but by:
You don’t conquer Paris by photographing the Eiffel Tower.
You conquer it when the light, the gesture, the silence choose you.
You don’t conquer New York City by volume.
You conquer it when you stand your ground and don’t flinch.
You don’t conquer London by spectacle.
You conquer it by reading subtext.
You don’t conquer Tokyo by control.
You conquer it by dissolving into flow.
You don’t conquer Rome by novelty.
You conquer it by standing inside time.
This is the new frontier
Not land.
Not resources.
Not dominance.
Meaning.
To walk the world with open eyes
in an age anesthetized by screens
is already an act of rebellion.
Street photography becomes:
No generals.
No armies.
Just legs, breath, instinct, and a shutter.
The world doesn’t need to be owned anymore.
It needs to be seen.
And very few are willing to see it fully.
Competition comes from the Latin competitio, from competere.
Etymological breakdown
- com- = together, with
- petere = to seek, strive for, aim at
So at its root, competition literally means “to strive together” or “to seek together.”
Original sense (not hostile)
In Classical Latin, competere did not primarily mean to defeat or crush another person. It meant:
- to meet
- to come together
- to be suitable or fitting
- to rival in pursuit of the same goal
The emphasis was on shared striving, not domination.
Shift in meaning
Over time—especially through medieval and modern usage—the word took on a more adversarial tone:
- winning vs. losing
- ranking, beating, outperforming
But that’s a cultural overlay, not the original meaning.
Deeper insight
At its root:
Competition is not about destroying others — it’s about co-striving toward excellence.
You and another person are:
- facing the same horizon
- aiming at the same ideal
- sharpening each other through proximity
In that older sense, competition is closer to:
- mutual elevation
- shared discipline
- excellence through friction
In plain terms
- Modern sense: “I must beat you.”
- Original sense: “We are striving together toward something higher.”
That older meaning aligns more with craft, virtue, and mastery than ego or comparison.
Manhattan is a long rectangle.
If you know this, you are never lost.
Go north early. Turn around. Walk south all day.
Go south immediately.
Use north to settle your body and eye.
South is where truth shows up.
Ask yourself:
That’s it.
North for calm.
South for chaos.
Walk until the city teaches you.
That’s New York.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
Today I want to talk about how to never be bored of street photography — because for me, street photography is my superpower. When I bring my camera along for the ride while living my everyday life, it feels like there’s never a dull moment.
I truly believe that boredom is a perspective problem.
A lot of the issues I hear photographers talk about on the street are things like:
“I’m not finding anything interesting.”
“There’s nothing exciting to photograph.”
And I get it — I fall into that trap too sometimes. I’ll look at my hometown with dull eyes, and it can start to feel like a drag. But honestly, to never be bored of photography, it comes down to a very simple mindset shift.
To never be bored of photography, you have to return to the childlike mind.
The world can feel mundane, but it’s really not the streets or the environment you’re in — it’s your mindset. The world didn’t become boring. You stopped being curious.
Curiosity is ultimately the aim. My goal as a photographer is to increase my curiosity each and every day. And I do that by returning to a childlike state — approaching each day with curiosity.
I like to go out with a blank slate.
No assumptions.
No preconceived notions of what I’m going to photograph.
No expectations of what I’ll find on the street.
Think of a child picking up leaves, touching concrete, looking up at buildings. That child is still within all of us. It’s up to us to return to that state of being so we can look at the world with infinite possibility.
The cure for boredom is a blank slate.
My goal is to return to the amateur state every single day — to the place I was when I first picked up a camera and walked through the woods practicing photography.
I never want to feel like I’ve mastered photography.
Like I’ve seen it all.
Done it all.
Photographed it all.
There’s infinite potential to grow and transform, just like a child growing throughout life.
If you’re bored of photography — if you’re bored of life — who’s to blame but yourself?
That might sound harsh, but it’s empowering. You have to take responsibility for that feeling of lethargy, that lack of vitality, that loss of curiosity.
Mastery begins when you take ownership of your perception.
The way you see the world comes from an internal state. It comes from how you feel about life in general.
That’s why I focus so much on my physiology.
Good sleep.
Eating well.
Getting strong.
Training my body.
When my body feels right, my mind is strong. When my body is strong, my perception sharpens. Vitality fuels curiosity.
And this is where I really believe something important:
No city owes you inspiration.
Street photography isn’t about location. It’s an ethos.
A way of seeing.
An attitude.
A mood.
Motivation comes from the Latin movere — meaning to move.
Motivation isn’t some external force pushing you forward. It’s your legs moving through the world.
Walking fuels awareness.
So my advice is simple:
Walk first. Think later.
I don’t rationalize everything I photograph. I respond to my gut. I let my body guide me. I move through the world and see what I find.
You don’t need new lands. You don’t need to conquer new places to find something worthwhile. Some of the most extraordinary moments I’ve ever photographed are right around the corner in my hometown.
Discovery is an internal state.
When boredom disappears, photography stops being a task.
You start to feel more.
See more.
Experience life more deeply.
I love photographing details. Overlooked things. Mundane objects. My goal is to uplift the ordinary into something extraordinary.
That’s the duty of the photographer.
When I have a camera in my pocket, every moment becomes extraordinary.
Photography transforms how I experience everyday life. Whether I’m in the street or in the forest, slowing down and observing fuels me with abundance — joy, curiosity, gratitude for life itself.
Photography gives me a reason to say yes to life.
It’s my way of saying: Thank you for the day.
Thank you for being alive.
Thank you for this temporary experience.
Observation becomes a way of being.
Photography trains my attention to stay present. When I see texture, light, shadow — I feel grounded. I feel like there’s something beyond the surface of reality, and I try to uplift that in my photographs.
Seeing deeply is a physical act.
Photography is somatic. The sounds, smells, and sensations of the street guide me. I respond instinctively — irrationally — emotionally — and that’s what leads me to press the shutter.
Photography is a state of play.
It’s not elitist.
It’s not about putting on a photography costume.
It’s not about technical perfection or history.
Curiosity matters more than gear.
Play matters more than knowledge.
Seriousness kills curiosity.
When you embrace play, you return to flow. You make more photos. You stay alive to the world.
Anything can be a photograph.
Street photography is an ethos, not a genre. Still lifes. Landscapes. People. Silent moments. All of it counts.
Street photography becomes limiting when you box yourself into a narrow definition. It’s not a checklist — it’s an attitude.
Photography is intuitive. Irrational. Emotional. Instinctual.
Joy is the outcome.
Through photography, I’ve learned that any moment can become beautiful. The simplest observations become profound when approached with curiosity.
Photography keeps me awake to life.
I don’t obsess over whether I’ll make a great frame today. I affirm that my next photo is my best photo. That’s what puts me in flow.
The world doesn’t change.
You do.
You are responsible for your perception. You can photograph wherever you are. Don’t pigeonhole yourself. Photography is endless.
Return to the childlike state.
Walk.
See.
Play.
That’s how I make sure I’m never bored of photography.
Thanks for watching, and I’ll see you in the next one. Peace.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
This morning I’ve been thinking about how, as a photographer, I’m actually not interested in photographs — and I know that sounds like a paradox.
Ultimately, I find joy in the process of being in the world. Being out here in embodied reality. Exploring the sights, the sounds, the smells of the streets.
For me, the goal is to be immersed in my inner world of curiosity.
The outcome — whether I make a good photograph or a bad photograph — is kind of out of my control. The picture itself is out of my control.
All I’m really in control of is moving my body through the world.
Walking with my camera.
Positioning myself on the front lines of life.
The reason I love photography is because I have this insatiable love for life.
Ultimately, I want that love to reflect back in the photographs I make — but I’m very detached from the outcome. I’m very detached from the result.
By removing that sense of control, I allow the spontaneous nature of life to flow through me.
I simply embrace the process openly — and that’s where I find meaning.
I’m not really interested in pictures. I’m interested in life.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
Going for a nice little hike here in the woods. Welcome to Fairmount Park, Philadelphia. Got the Ricoh GR IIIx and I’m just making some photographs.
Today I’ve been thinking about goals in photography — what goals should we actually set in 2026?
We’re all at different parts of our journey, but what I keep coming back to as the ultimate aim of my photography is curiosity.
And maybe that’s something you should contemplate too.
For me, the goal is to increase my curiosity by 1% each day.
That looks like waking up with enthusiasm — to catch the sun’s rays, to see another sunrise, to listen to the birds, to walk through my town with a camera in my pocket.
If I’m making new photographs, if I’m becoming more in love with life each day, then I’m fulfilling the goal within the process itself.
This is about reframing goal-setting away from validation, fame, success, money, and toward inner goals:
One thing that really hinders us as photographers is decision fatigue.
Where should I go?
What should I photograph?
What project should I work on?
What camera?
What lens?
All of these questions slow us down and pull us out of flow.
My solution is simple: use a compact camera.
The Ricoh GR is perfect for this kind of street photography because it fits in your pocket. I always have it with me. No excuses.
On the bus to work — I’m making photos.
On my break — I’m making photos.
Walking home — I’m making photos.
I like using macro mode and exploring different ways to photograph mundane places — whether I’m in the forest or in the city.
The aim is to be in a flow state, clicking the shutter every single day.
By eliminating decisions about gear and destinations, I stay grounded in the moment.
The real juice of life is the present moment.
Photography is a way for me to affirm life — to say yes to life.
To say, thank you, Lord, for this day.
Success in photography, to me, looks like:
Photography brings me closer to the now.
And the closer I get to the now, the deeper I fall into flow.
Flow comes from vitality.
We increase curiosity by cultivating vitality:
To me, true wealth is having vitality in your legs — the ability to walk, to move, to photograph, to see.
Without vitality, curiosity collapses.
I’m not prescribing a way of life, but I can say with certainty that fasting throughout the day gives me mental clarity. It eliminates fatigue of the mind and body.
With that clarity, intuition kicks in. Curiosity kicks in. Flow follows.
An empty body.
An empty mind.
This is how I’ve photographed for the past three years.
Goal setting ultimately comes back to cultivating a strong 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.
Vitality is at the forefront of my daily life:
When everything is integrated, the process becomes effortless.
Effortlessness comes from creating out of physiological power.
I shoot high-contrast black-and-white JPEGs baked into the file.
When I import to my iPad Pro, I just use the Photos app:
I can import hundreds or thousands of photos quickly, back everything up daily, publish immediately, and move on to the next day.
The practice is seamless with my life.
When you stay in flow long enough, time compounds.
That’s when your authentic expression appears.
That’s when your style reveals itself.
But it requires being in the flow state consistently, over a long period of time.
These are my thoughts on goal setting in 2026 — my workflow, my practice, and my philosophy.
I highly recommend contemplating this idea yourself.
If this helped you reframe success in photography, then I’m grateful.
Thank you for watching.
I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
My hands are cold.

Angel comes from the Greek ἄγγελος (ángelos), meaning “messenger.”
Importantly, the word originally had no supernatural meaning — it simply referred to someone who is sent with a message.
Linguistic Lineage
- Greek: ángelos — messenger, envoy
- Hebrew parallel: malʾākh (מַלְאָךְ) — messenger (human or divine)
- Latin: angelus
- Old English: engel
- Modern English: angel
Key Insight
An angel is defined by function, not form.
An angel is not “a being with wings” by origin —
an angel is one who carries a message across a boundary.
Spiritual & Symbolic Meaning
Because messengers often carried divine communication:
- ángelos became associated with God’s messengers
- Over time, this role gained symbolic imagery (light, wings, radiance)
But the core meaning never changed:
Angel = messenger between realms
Why Angels Have Wings (Symbolically)
Wings are not literal in the etymology.
They symbolize:
- Speed (swift delivery of truth)
- Transcendence (movement between worlds)
- Elevation (from higher to lower, unseen to seen)
Plain-English Definition
An angel is one who brings news from beyond your current horizon.
That “beyond” can be:
- Divine → human
- Inner → conscious
- Eternal → temporal

Dante Sisofo is an American street photographer, writer, educator, and philosopher-artist based in Philadelphia. He is best known for approaching photography not as a genre, career ladder, or social-media pursuit, but as a way of being—a daily, embodied practice rooted in walking, curiosity, intuition, and presence.
Dante frames photography as a somatic act—vision emerging from movement, breath, and lived experience rather than rules, trends, or gear obsession.
He primarily shoots high-contrast black-and-white JPEGs using compact cameras (most notably the Ricoh GR), emphasizing light, shadow, gesture, and layered human moments.
Inspired by Heraclitus, Dante’s work centers on impermanence and flow—the understanding that you cannot make the same photograph, or live the same moment, twice.
He publishes extensively outside of social platforms, maintaining a self-hosted ecosystem of essays, lectures, videos, archives, and educational material.
Beyond photography, Dante openly identifies as a:
These dimensions feed directly into his work, shaping a worldview centered on discipline, simplicity, vitality, and reverence for everyday life.
People are drawn to Dante not just for photographs, but for an operating system for living creatively—one that rejects status, algorithms, and validation-seeking in favor of depth, independence, embodied awareness, and joy in the ordinary.

Artist — Etymology & Meaning
The word artist comes from the Latin ars, meaning:
- skill
- craft
- method
- technique
- way of doing
From ars, we get artista (Latin) → artiste (Old French) → artist (English).
At its root, an artist is simply someone who practices a skill with intention.
Deeper Roots
Ars is closely related to the Greek téchnē (τέχνη), which meant:
- skill of the hand
- craft knowledge
- practical wisdom
- knowing how rather than knowing that
This is where we get technology, but originally téchnē had nothing to do with machines — it meant embodied, lived skill.
An artist was not a “creative genius”
but a trained practitioner of a way of doing.
Original Meaning vs Modern Meaning
Originally:
- A shoemaker was an artist
- A sculptor was an artist
- A physician was an artist
- A rhetorician was an artist
Anyone practicing a disciplined craft was an artist.
Modern shift:
- Artist = expressive individual
- Emphasis on originality, emotion, self-expression
But etymologically…
An artist is someone who has cultivated a way of acting in the world.
Why This Matters (Especially for Photography)
In the original sense:
- Art is practice
- Art is discipline
- Art is repetition
- Art is embodied skill
Not validation.
Not fame.
Not performance.
To be an artist is to live skillfully.
That aligns perfectly with:
- walking
- seeing
- responding
- moving through the world attentively
In One Sentence
Artist literally means:
A person trained in a way of doing.
Not someone special.
Someone practiced.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
This morning, I wanted to talk about abstraction in street photography — why I’ve been gravitating toward it, and how I use it in my everyday photographic life.
I live in Philadelphia. It’s my hometown. And it’s not New York City. There isn’t constant chaos, spectacle, or nonstop energy on every corner. It’s a fairly mundane city in many ways — and I don’t say that as a complaint. I actually love walking here. But a few years ago, I realized something:
Abstraction became a solution to a problem.
That problem was simple:
How do you keep photographing when your environment feels familiar, quiet, ordinary?
About three years ago, when I shifted into a new black-and-white process, abstraction became a way for me to embrace the mundane instead of fighting it.
It allowed me to find something from nothing.
To make pictures wherever I am.
To keep pushing myself forward instead of waiting for something “interesting” to happen.
When I photograph architecture, surfaces, or everyday scenes, I’m no longer trying to describe reality as fact. I’m paying attention to light and shadow, and how they interact inside the frame. That interaction creates drama, mystery, and mood — something I couldn’t achieve in the same way with my old approach.
One of the simplest techniques I use is exposing for the highlights and crushing the shadows.
I shoot with the Ricoh GR III and GR IIIx, with contrast pushed to the absolute max. My camera is set to highlight-weighted metering, which lets me prioritize what matters in the frame and let everything else fall away.
Sometimes the way light hits a building, a surface, or a window is enough to abstract a scene entirely.
I have a strong foundation in photography. I understand form, light, timing, positioning, and structure. I know how to make a photograph that’s readable and accessible.
But now, I’m trying to walk a fine line between:
I want the formal clarity of traditional photography, blended with the playfulness and surprise of abstraction. I photograph quickly, intuitively, and from instinct — letting things happen instead of forcing them.
That’s where the images start to surprise me.
Because I bake high-contrast black and white into the camera, I’m often looking at life through the LCD screen as if I’m seeing beyond the veil.
What I get back isn’t always what I saw in reality — it’s often what I didn’t see.
That’s the abstraction.
That’s the mystery.
And that mystery keeps me curious.
These days, I’m mostly looking for light:
In places like the City Hall tunnels in Philadelphia, I’ll “fish” at a scene — waiting for people to enter a pool of light, crushing the background, and placing subjects in an ambiguous space.
I photograph sculptures, textures, fences, reflections, shadows — anything that allows me to transform the ordinary into something unfamiliar.
A simple building becomes mysterious when framed through shadow.
A fence becomes a compositional tool.
A bench becomes a stage for drama.
By abstracting reality, I give myself something to chew on — something to play with — something that fuels me to go back out and keep making photographs.
Even watching sunrise light reflect off the Logan Square fountain can become an act of exploration.
At the end of the day, abstraction isn’t about being clever or obscure.
It’s about fueling curiosity.
Photography, for me, isn’t about describing life exactly as it is — it’s about exploring what it could be. When you look closely enough, the mundane stops being mundane. Life starts to feel like a dream.
Abstraction helps me keep photographing wherever I am, no matter how ordinary the environment seems.
And that surprise — that moment when the photograph gives me something I didn’t expect — is what pulls me back out the door every time.
Just some candid thoughts on abstraction in street photography.
Thanks for watching.
I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
Welcome to the park — the most glorious time of the day.
Sunrise, baby. Check that out.
Today I’m thinking about the somatic experience of photography — street photography as a way of being.
I think street photography is merely an attitude.
It’s an approach to the way in which you engage with life.
There isn’t one right way to do this thing.
What’s interesting about street photography is that it’s a bodily experience.
It requires you to be out in the open world — enjoying the sights, the sounds, the smells of the street.
It’s up to you, in your physical body, to move through the world and respond to your gut.
Ultimately, I believe photography has nothing to do with photography.
Photography has everything to do with the bodily experience of being in the world — enjoying life in all of its complexity, in the present moment, right here, right now.
The present is the ultimate gift.
I use photography as a way of being, a way of saying yes to life.
Embracing this moment.
The sounds.
The sights.
The smells of the street.
Whether I’m in a forest, or in the bustling markets of my city.
Photography has everything to do with being out in the world.
You’re not in control of whether or not you make an interesting photograph.
You are in control of being present.
Of embracing the walk.
Of embracing the day.
All in the spirit of play.