March 16, 2026 – Philadelphia


Askesis (Greek: ἄσκησις) means exercise, training, or discipline. It originally referred to the physical training of athletes but later evolved to describe spiritual or philosophical discipline—a practice of self-control and inner cultivation.
In the context of Stoicism, Cynicism, and Christian asceticism, askesis refers to the intentional practice of self-denial, simplicity, and mental fortitude aimed at achieving moral or spiritual excellence.
Think of it as:
Askesis = voluntary hardship for the sake of inner strength.
Examples:
It’s training not for the body alone—but for the soul.

Flux is street photography as continuous becoming.
It is rooted in the idea that:
You cannot step into the same river twice.
Everything is changing:
There is no repetition.
There is no fixed moment.
There is only flow.
Flux rejects the idea that photography is about capturing a perfect, frozen instant.
Instead:
The photograph is not a conclusion. It is a trace.
You are not a passive observer.
You are:
You are inside the scene, not outside of it.
To photograph is to participate.
The image breathes because it is alive.
The body reacts before the mind explains.
Perfection is artificial.
Imperfection is evidence of life.
Light is not balanced.
Light is aggressive, directional, alive.
The camera is not separate from you.
It is:
No delay. No friction.
See → react → shoot
More complexity = more life.
The faster you can shoot, the closer you are to reality.
Flux is not about control.
Flux is about surrender.
Flux is not just photography.
It is a way of being:
You are not capturing life.
You are moving with it.
And every photograph is proof:
That you were there.
That you saw.
That you lived.
Futurism began in early 20th-century Italy as a radical artistic movement that rejected the past and embraced the modern world.
It was obsessed with:
Futurist artists didn’t want to freeze a moment — they wanted to depict motion itself.
Traditional street photography often emphasizes:
A Futurist approach flips this completely:
You are no longer documenting reality.
You are translating velocity into an image.
The subject is no longer the person.
The subject becomes time itself.
One frame is no longer one moment.
It becomes many moments colliding.
Light is no longer just illumination.
It becomes force — something active and aggressive in the frame.
Let the image inherit your movement.
Perfection kills energy.
Control how time appears in your frame.
The more happening, the better.
Traditional:
“The decisive moment.”
Futurist:
There is no single moment. Only continuous becoming.
This aligns with the idea that reality is always in motion — never fixed.
Futurist street photography is not about documenting the city.
It is about revealing:
This approach aligns naturally with:
Flux is lived Futurism.
You are not standing outside the world observing it.
You are inside the movement of life — photographing from within it.
This page is your complete resource for learning street photography.
You’ll find free online courses, a full archive of my blog posts, and in-depth eBooks covering contact sheets, layering, and the Ricoh GR system.
Everything here is designed to help you see better, shoot more, and develop your own way of photographing the world.
A structured navigation of all posts.
A growing collection of street photography guides, visual archives, and raw knowledge — all 100% open source.
These e-books are free to download, remix, share, and learn from.
No paywalls. No permission needed. Just keep the spirit alive.

The Unedited Frames Behind the Frame
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A decade of photographs. 11 full contact sheets from shoots in Baltimore, Jericho, Zambia, and more — paired with real stories and lessons on intuition, composition, courage, and storytelling.
“Don’t leave the scene until the scene leaves you.”

Depth, Presence, and the Visual Puzzle
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This guide breaks down layering as both a visual technique and a way of being present in the world. Featuring real-world examples, behind-the-scenes GoPro POVs, and field philosophy.
Patience. Presence. Position.

Settings, Techniques & Workflow
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Camera setup. Snap focus. Tourist technique. Composition on the fly. Workflow from camera to blog. Everything you need to master the Ricoh GR as a street weapon — no editing required.
“Your next photo is your best photo.”


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Today we’re going to be discussing the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome’s red filter.
We’ll talk about:
The Ricoh GR IV Monochrome has a physical red filter built into the lens that darkens blue light, increases contrast, and interacts directly with the monochrome sensor to produce stronger black and white tones straight out of camera.
You can see me turning it on here. I actually have the video button on the side of the camera set so that when I hold it down, it toggles the red filter on and off.
Honestly, this is extremely clutch and really innovative.
When I’m out on the street using it, the first thing I notice is how dark the sky becomes.
With the monochrome sensor and the built-in red filter, blue skies suddenly turn deep black. The contrast becomes dramatic, and it changes the entire feel of the photograph.
The red filter is blocking blue light and allowing red light to pass.
That means it’s changing the tonal relationships in black and white photography.
And the effect is honestly insane.
Look at the result of this photo — the dark blue sky and the dark water with the reflection popping from the brighter areas. This is something I wasn’t really able to achieve with the Ricoh GR III or Ricoh GR IIIx.
Before, I would try to get results like this by underexposing and playing with exposure. But that never gave the same effect.
Now the red filter naturally produces those deep black skies.
What the red filter is doing is increasing overall contrast and separating tones more aggressively.
Bright objects stay bright.
Cool-toned areas — especially blues — become much darker.
That’s huge.
Because one of the problems I had when shooting black and white on the Ricoh GR III was that when I underexposed to create drama, everything became darker, including the highlights.
But with the red filter, the contrast separation becomes much more pronounced.
The images become more:
And honestly, it just looks beautiful.
One of the most exciting parts about using the red filter is the sky.
The sky becomes this rich deep black, while the clouds pop bright and defined.
It creates this surreal, almost dreamlike look.
And that’s been keeping me curious.
Because suddenly I can take a completely ordinary scene — a house next to the river, some buildings, a simple skyline — and transform it into something much more dramatic just by toggling the filter.
The red filter can turn a mundane situation into something visually powerful.
The red filter cuts roughly two stops of light.
That means:
When you compare before and after images, you can clearly see that the sky and water become much darker while highlights remain visible.
This is where the contrast really starts to shine.
The effect on skin tones is actually really interesting.
I made a self-portrait with the red filter, and what happens is that warm tones become lighter.
Skin appears smoother.
Freckles and blemishes are reduced.
There’s almost this soft glow on the skin, which I found really beautiful in the image.
One thing I love about black and white photography is separating the subject from the background.
With the red filter, the background can become crushed in black, while the face stays soft and luminous in the light.
It creates a really strong visual separation.
Anything blue becomes darker.
That includes:
You can see it clearly in scenes with the river — the water and sky become nearly black while reflections from brighter surfaces still pop through.
That creates a very graphic, high-contrast look.
And the abstraction you can get from that is extremely intriguing.
This is important.
The red filter on the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome is not a digital effect.
It’s a physical filter that shapes the light before it reaches the sensor.
That means the tonal effect is baked into the image during capture.
The ND filter from previous GR models is replaced with this red filter.
But Ricoh compensated for that by adding a faster electronic shutter up to 1/16,000th of a second, so you can still shoot in bright light.
Interestingly, the red filter also behaves a little bit like a mini ND filter because it reduces exposure by about two stops.
The Ricoh GR IV Monochrome sensor has no color filter array.
Every pixel records pure luminance information.
Because of that, color filters behave more like they did in black and white film photography.
So the red filter is literally shaping the luminance relationships in the scene before the image is recorded.
This isn’t something you’re recreating later in software.
It’s happening optically.
This is especially amazing for me because I shoot JPEG.
So the image comes straight out of camera with this tonal structure already baked in.
No editing needed.
Just shoot.
Lately I’ve been using the red filter mostly when I see:
It’s perfect for those walks along the river where the sky and water can create strong contrast.
I haven’t used it as much for classic street photography yet, but I can definitely see it becoming part of that workflow too.
This camera is honestly one of the most interesting photographic tools I’ve ever used.
Think about the history of photography.
Niepce experimenting with chemistry.
Eugène Atget carrying around a huge wooden camera with a bellows and tripod.
And now we have a camera that:
It’s kind of insane when you think about it.
You can pretty much be a human tripod.
I’m not the biggest tech guy, honestly.
I just wanted to experiment with this feature and share my thoughts.
So yeah.
Thanks for watching.
And I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.
Today we’re starting something new on the channel — a little behind-the-scenes look into my photography process.
This is officially Street Photography Diary Entry #1, where I’m sharing my visual diary with the Ricoh GR4 Monochrome. I’m going through some photos from a recent walk and talking about what I’m discovering with this camera.
The very first photograph from this walk in my hometown, Philadelphia, was made using the red filter.
And honestly — the red filter is insane.
I’m starting to realize that if you’re a monochrome shooter, this upgrade is absolutely worth it. Having a monochrome sensor paired with a red filter changes the game drastically.
Even just seeing the results on the camera screen has me extremely excited.
When I shoot with the Ricoh GR4 Monochrome, I typically use multi-segment metering mode.
In scenes like this, I’ll usually use the EV to slightly underexpose, especially when using the red filter. That helps preserve highlights and also boosts contrast.
In the past, when I was shooting with the GR III, I would try to replicate this look using my JPEG recipe:
But even doing that, I could never achieve this result.
The way the bridge pops out from that black background here is completely nuanced in a way that surprised me. I personally had never used a red filter before, and now I’m seeing completely new results.
I shoot small JPEG files, which makes my workflow extremely simple.
My process is straightforward:
That’s it.
It’s a very streamlined way of working, and it keeps photography feeling light and fluid.
For me, shooting monochrome is not an aesthetic decision.
It’s actually a solution to a problem.
Photography asks the question:
How can we articulate the mundane nature of everyday life in new ways?
And for me, the answer is simple:
Follow the light.
By stripping away color and photographing in black and white, I find infinite ways to keep returning to photography every day.
These days, I’m not trying to photograph interesting things.
I’m not searching for moments.
I’m simply looking at the light.
When you think about the medium of photography, it’s really just drawing with light.
So when I’m walking the streets, light itself becomes the subject.
I’m not looking for impactful photographs.
I’m not looking for anything specific.
I’m simply following the light.
On this particular walk, I was along the Schuylkill River Trail here in Philadelphia.
There’s a beautiful new suspension bridge that connects the boardwalk to the Grey’s Ferry area.
I walk this trail almost every day, especially when the weather is nice.
And on the surface, these walks are completely mundane.
It’s the same path every day.
A narrow trail.
You can’t really veer off.
Just the road ahead.
But once you embrace monochrome photography, these spaces become infinitely interesting.
Because now I’m not dependent on:
Instead, I’m simply letting light elevate the mundane.
At the end of the day, I’m curious about how light renders onto my monochrome sensor.
Using the red filter:
And I allow myself to be surprised.
That surprise is actually what keeps me awake when I return home and start reviewing the photos.
I’m excited to see:
How did life render on the sensor today?
When I see something interesting, I’ll raise the camera and make lots of frames.
For example, I was photographing a pool of light with these sticks coming up from the ground.
I moved around while shooting, trying to see how the light beams interacted with the scene.
These small moments bring me a lot of joy.
And when I get home and review the photos, the novelty that light provides keeps me endlessly curious.
Because of this, I no longer feel the need to travel somewhere new to photograph.
My backyard here along the river trail is more than enough.
By simplifying everything and working with monochrome, the world opens up again.
I also noticed something interesting while shooting toward the light with the red filter.
Sometimes these strange flares appear.
There’s likely another surface between the filter and lens that causes these reflections.
I was photographing a climber on the suspension bridge and noticed these unexpected flares appearing in the frame.
Once again — the surprise keeps me curious.
Even the smallest things catch my attention now.
A reflection in a window.
A glimmer of light on the ground.
That’s enough.
I’m just trying to stay sensitive on the street and photograph everything — while primarily following the light.
Later that day I walked down Chestnut Street.
The weather was beautiful. The sun was out and people were everywhere.
I came across a group of girls playing double dutch.
Immediately I jumped into the scene.
I asked them:
“Can I get in?”
So I started playing double dutch.
Now listen — I do not know how to play double dutch.
They were spinning the rope ridiculously fast.
They were definitely trying to mess me up.
But the beauty of the Ricoh GR is that I don’t appear as a photographer.
I’m just a guy walking down the street.
So I start playing.
Then I pull the camera up.
Suddenly I’m inside the scene, making photographs.
The photographer’s duty is simply to be present.
To engage with humanity.
Because photography actually has nothing to do with photography.
It has everything to do with how you experience life.
The real traits of a photographer are things like:
Composition, timing, and lighting are easy.
Those things come with repetition.
But curiosity and courage — those are the real skills.
My philosophy is simple:
Play.
Let the chips fall where they may.
The more you play, the more you develop your authentic way of seeing.
I don’t go out pretending to be some serious visual storyteller trying to make impactful photographs.
I’m just living my life.
The camera comes along for the ride.
And I photograph what I find.
At the end of the day I stopped by a local photo club at the Philadelphia Library.
If you’re from Philly, check out the art section where the photo books are.
This was my first time joining the club.
I met some interesting people and presented some new work.
I showed my new book:
Flux Volume 1
This is my work from Tokyo — 13 days of photographing.
The photographs turned out beautifully in the small 5×8 trade book from Blurb.
I feel like after a decade of photographing, my vision finally came together on this trip.
I pushed myself in:
And I became fascinated with faces as the central subject.
For 13 days straight I was completely obsessed with photographing Tokyo.
This street photography diary will become a new series on the channel.
I’ll share the photographs I’m making as I go out and shoot every day.
Work in progress.
The process.
The evolution.
Because photography is a constant state of becoming.
A state of flux.
Every day is simply another opportunity to make new frames.
Thank you for watching.
And I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
Like a gay giant flying on mercury’s wings
The idea of the Overman (Übermensch) comes from Friedrich Nietzsche. The Overman is a human who creates his own values instead of following the herd. He lives creatively, courageously, and playfully — transforming life into art.
If we imagine that mindset applied to street photography, the approach becomes something very different from ordinary photography.
1. The Overman Rejects the Herd
Most photographers copy trends:
Leica aesthetic, Instagram edits, safe compositions.The Overman would not care.
He would create his own visual language.
He walks the street like a conqueror of perception.
Not asking:
- “What will people like?”
- “Is this trendy?”
- “Will this get likes?”
But asking:
- What do I see?
- What vision wants to emerge through me?
Street photography becomes an act of self-creation.
2. The Overman Treats the Street as a Stage
For the Overman, the city is not chaos.
It is a living theater.
Every passerby becomes a character.
Every shadow becomes a symbol.
Every moment is mythic.The photographer becomes a myth-maker of the everyday.
A man stepping off a curb is no longer a pedestrian.
He is Achilles crossing the battlefield of asphalt.
3. The Overman Embraces Risk
Most photographers hesitate.
The Overman steps forward.
He gets close.
He trusts instinct.
He shoots boldly.Because hesitation is a form of weakness.
The Overman believes:
Better a bold photograph that fails
than a safe photograph that never lived.
4. The Overman Creates Meaning
The herd photographs events.
The Overman photographs symbols.
He sees:
- irony
- tension
- humor
- contradiction
- power
He sees the spirit of the age in a single gesture.
Street photography becomes philosophy in visual form.
5. The Overman is Playful
Nietzsche said the highest stage of the spirit is the child.
Playful. Creative. Free.
So the Overman photographer moves through the street like a cosmic trickster.
Light. Fast. Curious.
6. “A Gay Giant Flying on Mercury’s Wings”
This image actually captures something very true.
In mythology, Mercury (Hermes) had winged sandals, symbolizing speed and fluidity.
The Overman photographer would move through the street like this:
- quick
- joyful
- mischievous
- impossible to pin down
Not heavy.
Not anxious.
But light and airborne.
A photographer dancing through reality.
The Overman Street Photographer
He walks the city like a god among men.
Not arrogant — but fully alive.
He sees what others miss.
He acts when others hesitate.
And when the shutter clicks, it is not just a photograph.
It is a declaration of life.
Honestly Dante, this actually aligns a lot with your own Flux philosophy — the idea that life is in motion and that the photographer enters the stream of reality and responds instinctively.
Heraclitus would probably smile at that.
“You cannot step into the same street twice.”