Ricoh GR IV Monochrome Red Filter Explained (Before & After Results)

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today we’re going to be discussing the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome’s red filter.

We’ll talk about:

• what the red filter does
• how it works mechanically
• why it matters for black and white photography
• and look at some before and after examples to see how impactful it really is.

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.

The Immediate Impact

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.

Stronger Contrast and Tonal Separation

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:

• graphic
• dramatic
• abstract

And honestly, it just looks beautiful.

Dramatic Skies and Abstract Landscapes

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 Exposure Effect

The red filter cuts roughly two stops of light.

That means:

• exposure drops slightly
• contrast increases
• tones deepen

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.

What It Does to Skin Tones

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.

Darkening Blue Objects

Anything blue becomes darker.

That includes:

• sky
• water
• distant atmosphere

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.

A Physical Filter, Not Digital

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.

Why It Works So Well with a Monochrome Sensor

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.

Why I Love It for My Workflow

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.

When I Use the Red Filter

Lately I’ve been using the red filter mostly when I see:

• blue skies
• buildings and architecture
• rivers and landscapes

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.

Final Thoughts on the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome

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:

• turns on in half a second
• has image stabilization
• can shoot 1/16,000th of a second
• and has a mechanical red filter built into the lens

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.

Ricoh GR IV Monochrome — Street Photography Diary #1

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.

The Red Filter Changes Everything

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:

• High contrast
• Small JPEG files
• Underexposing slightly

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.

My Simple Monochrome Workflow

I shoot small JPEG files, which makes my workflow extremely simple.

My process is straightforward:

• Import photos directly to my iPad
• Publish immediately to my website
• Back everything up with Lightroom CC cloud
• Move on

That’s it.

It’s a very streamlined way of working, and it keeps photography feeling light and fluid.

Why I Photograph in Monochrome

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.

The Light Is the Subject

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.

Walking the Schuylkill River Trail

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:

• an interesting character
• a dramatic moment
• a clever juxtaposition

Instead, I’m simply letting light elevate the mundane.

Surprise Is the Fuel

At the end of the day, I’m curious about how light renders onto my monochrome sensor.

Using the red filter:

• the sky crushes into deep blacks
• subjects pop with high contrast
• scenes become completely transformed

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?

Making Frames in the Light

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.

Photographing My Backyard

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.

The Red Filter Surprises

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.

Small Glimmers of Light

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.

Playing Double Dutch on Chestnut Street

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.

Photography Is About Life

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:

• curiosity
• courage
• intuition

Composition, timing, and lighting are easy.

Those things come with repetition.

But curiosity and courage — those are the real skills.

Don’t Take Photography So Seriously

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.

Philadelphia Photo Club

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.

Flux Volume 1 — Tokyo

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:

• Shibuya Crossing
• the alleyways of Shinjuku
• pools of light across the city

And I became fascinated with faces as the central subject.

For 13 days straight I was completely obsessed with photographing Tokyo.

A New Series on the Channel

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.”

Trinity

Why I Chose the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome for Street Photography

Stripping Photography Down to the Essence

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante, currently along the Schuylkill River here in Philadelphia, thinking today about why I choose the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome for my street photography.

So I’m no stranger to Ricoh. In 2015, I picked up the GR II and made some of my earliest and best photos with that camera. Fast forward seven years, I picked up the GR III and started photographing in high contrast black and white with small JPEG files.

Now in 2026, picking up the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome and really pushing myself forward with this commitment, with this mindset shift in my practice — adopting a monochrome sensor, adopting a streamlined workflow, stripping away color, stripping away decision generally, removing friction from my life as a photographer.

It seems that the more I go forward on this journey as a photographer, the more I’m looking to subtract from the practice.

I’m trying to strip away everything from photography and return to the essence of the medium.

Commitment Changes How You See

I’m not going to sit here and tell you about the technical details of the camera system — how it renders life on the sensor or what the files look like.

But I will tell you that the way your mind shifts when committing to a practice — when committing to black and white photography — is unlike anything.

For me as a photographer, my goal is to continue photographing.

So I decided to remove friction. Remove choice from my life.

Whether or not I shoot color or black and white.
Go left or right.
Use this camera or that lens.

I strip it down to this simple black box with a shutter button that allows me to cultivate instinct.

I don’t want to think when I’m on the street.

When I photograph things, I’m just curious about how life will look like photographed.

I’m not hunting for photographs.

I simply throw the camera in my pocket, live my life, and photograph what I find.

Infinite Novelty in the Mundane

No matter where I am — whether I’m in the bustling city or on the side of the river here in the outskirts where I usually dwell — I find infinite ways to play this game of photography.

By adopting a black and white workflow, I’ve found new ways to articulate the mundane.

And I find infinite novelty all around me as a photographer.

By stripping away color and returning to the essence of the medium — light itself — I become more curious.

I become more joyous.

Because life really is glorious.

Life isn’t necessarily what it seems.

When I photograph things, I’m not saying that this is a fact. I’m not looking at life as this or that.

I’m wondering.

What You Get Back Is What You Didn’t See

When I make a photograph and commit to monochrome with everything baked into the high-contrast file — contrast settings cranked to the max — you could argue that what you see is what you get.

You can’t go back and post-process.

But what’s interesting is:

What I get back in the photograph is what I didn’t see.

Photography with monochrome becomes a natural abstraction of life.

And once you go monochrome, it’s almost like you can’t go back.

You can’t unsee the infinite novelty that’s all around you.

Light provides endless ways to return to photography.

A Streamlined Practice

My goal is simple:

Wake up and pick the camera.

Walk more.
Photograph more.
Do more.

When I streamline the practice into the most simplified workflow possible — small JPEG files around five megabytes, processing baked in, nothing to tweak — I cultivate instinct.

I cultivate a practice where:

I shoot → I go home → I publish.

Shoot.
Go home.
Publish.

And I exist in this perpetual stream of becoming, evolving every day, making new frames while walking the same lane that I walk every single day.

Following the Light

That’s why I choose the Ricoh GR for monochrome.

It reshapes your mind.

It changes the way you look and experience life.

From that state of curiosity, you can infinitely return to photography because of the way light provides the novelty.

It’s everywhere.

Right now I’m looking at the sky — the blue sky above, the tree in the foreground, the white popping from that sky.

I throw on a red filter and photograph the patterns of nature.

And what I get back in the photograph isn’t what I was looking at.

When I go home and review the photos, I smile.

I’m eager for the next day to wake up and photograph more.

Because there are infinite ways to find new things inside the photographs you make.

The World Is Always in Flux

With a red filter, I can photograph the same scene twice and get two completely different results.

I could stand on the same street and photograph the same scene every single day for the rest of my life.

But I will never make the same photograph twice.

The light is always changing.

The world is always in flux.

And so are you.

Your cells replenish.
You grow older.
You evolve as an artist.

There’s beauty in stripping away the superfluous technical aspects of photography and returning to pure instinct.

Stop thinking. Start shooting.

Just live and respond intuitively from the gut.

Over time, you cultivate your authentic expression.

Your style emerges — not because you chose black and white — but because you removed friction and lived your life with a camera.

Photography Is a Way of Living

Photography has nothing to do with photography.

Photography has everything to do with:

• How you engage with humanity
• How you live your everyday life

If you’re curious about life and you’re following the light, it’s inevitable that you will find your authentic expression.

Right now I’m hearing the cars passing by.

The railroad track.

The wind moving through the leaves.

The rocks beneath my feet.

Walking barefoot.

Feeling the sunlight on my skin.

Photography isn’t about the medium or even the content inside the frame.

It’s about how it reorients the way you see and feel life.

Slip the Camera in Your Pocket

So the more you walk, the more you see.

And the more you practice your photography.

I’m trying to make it inevitable that I practice.

So I slip the Ricoh in my pocket.

I live my life.

And I photograph what I find.

And sometimes I just watch the geese pass by and smile.

That’s really why I choose Ricoh.

A Quick Note: Flux Volume 1

Also check out the first edition of Flux Volume 1, a small publication of my photographs from Tokyo.

It’s 13 days in Tokyo, all photographed with the Ricoh GR III and Ricoh GR IIIx in high-contrast black and white.

I put together a little trade book through Blurb with a collage cover I designed.

That trip to Tokyo honestly felt like the moment when my vision really came together.

Photographing in the pools of light at Shibuya Crossing and the gritty alleyways of Shinjuku at night — something clicked in my practice.

So I compiled those 13 days into this small book.

If you’re curious, you can check it out through the link in the description.

The Joy of Looking

Anyway, those are my thoughts for today.

I’m excited to see what kind of new photos I can make with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome.

Look at this birdhouse right here with the sun glowing behind it.

That is beautiful.

When you look at the LCD screen of a monochrome camera, it almost feels like looking beyond the veil.

That photo looks unreal.

So yeah.

Thanks for watching.

I’ll see you in the next one.

Peace.

Street Photography Style Is NOT What You Think

Style Isn’t an Aesthetic Decision

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today I want to discuss style in street photography — this notion of your authentic expression, who you are as a photographer.

I think a lot of photographers want to look at a picture and say:

“I took that picture.”

And when you see a body of work from another photographer, you can say that’s a photograph by such and such.

I believe this is something everyone seeks to achieve. Everyone wants to make something that is theirs. As a photographer, you want your voice to be seen. You want that vision to be authentically yours.

But my idea around style might be a little different.

Because I don’t believe style has anything to do with aesthetic decisions.

Not whether you shoot black and white.
Not whether you shoot color.
Not grainy photos.
Not blurry photos.
Not shooting through reflections.
Not smudging your lens.

Those decisions have nothing to do with your vision.

Style Comes From Instinct

When it comes down to style, I believe it arises through the cultivation of instinct.

Your instinct — with consistency compounding over time — ultimately reveals your authentic perception. The way that you see, feel, and experience life.

Photography isn’t really about photography in the technical sense.

It’s not about:

• how you operate the camera
• why you make certain aesthetic decisions
• how you process the photograph
• even what’s inside the frame

Style is not something you can force.

Style is not something you can choose.

Style comes to you through consistency and the cultivation of instinct.

The Role of Repetition

Instinct is the moment where you no longer think.

But instinct only arises with time.

To arrive there, you must photograph with repetition.

Essentially every single day.

When you photograph consistently, it becomes inevitable that you will eventually discover what you have to say.

But you will not force this with an aesthetic trick.

You won’t force it by saying:

• I’m shooting layers now
• I’m photographing textures
• I’m working in this particular location

Style arrives when you stop thinking.

When you cultivate the pure gut instinct that subconsciously pulls you toward photographing certain things.

Finding Your Voice in the Edit

Over time, you begin extracting photographs from that stream of work.

And that’s when you start to see it.

That’s when your voice begins to reveal itself.

But this only comes through time spent actually out there photographing.

Not in the darkroom.

Not in Lightroom.

Not in how you shake your film canister while developing.

Not through presets or filters.

Your voice arises from pure intuition.

Why I Simplified My Photography

For me, this is why I stripped my practice down to a simple setup.

A Ricoh GR in my pocket.

A fixed lens.

A small JPEG file with the contrast cranked to the maximum.

I’ve stripped photography bare.

There is no going back.

We have black and we have white.

When the practice is simplified this much, I find that instinct develops much faster.

Responding to Life Intuitively

For the past three years working this way, I’ve been responding to life in front of me in the spirit of play.

Not thinking.

Just responding quickly.

Photographing intuitively.

Photographing from a state of being.

The reason I shoot black and white with maximum contrast and a simple JPEG workflow is because I want to remove all the superfluous technicalities of photography.

What’s left is instinct.

And instinct arises when there are no decisions to make.

It arises when you no longer have to think.

When the Camera Becomes an Extension of You

Eventually the camera becomes an extension of your body and your eye.

You no longer question why you’re pressing the shutter.

You simply know.

You see something.

You position your body.

You feel how the photograph wants to exist within the four corners of the frame.

This doesn’t mean you should photograph randomly without understanding your gear.

But the deeper point here is separating style from the technical and aesthetic decisions photographers make.

Surrendering to the Practice

My workflow is really about forgetting everything I think I know.

About photography.

About life.

I surrender to the medium.
I surrender to the practice.
I surrender to the process.

And I trust the passage of time.

The more I strip away from the practice, the more what remains is pure instinct.

Style Reveals Itself Over Time

After more than a decade of practice, I’m now stripping everything bare.

My camera.

My mind.

My process.

Everything about the way I engage with the medium.

When I’m on the street, all that remains is instinct.

And I believe that is the purest way to cultivate your authentic way of photographing.

Because two people can shoot the same camera.

The same settings.

The same film.

You can go in the corner and shoot Tri-X.

I can go in the corner and shoot Tri-X.

But the frame you make — from your internal state, your feelings, your perception — will be completely different from mine.

Photography as an Unrepeatable Act

You cannot make the same photograph twice.

Photography becomes an unrepeatable practice.

An endless exploration of your subconscious mind.

It arises in the moment you click the shutter.

It arises when you walk through life with a camera and photograph consistently, repetitively, obsessively over time.

Eventually, you will find that authenticity you’re looking for.

But it will not appear magically through aesthetic or stylistic decisions.

Because when you remove friction…

what’s left is instinct.

The Demigod Photographer

Is man permitted to strive to become a demigod in this modern world?

It seems that we’ve lost touch with myth, story, and meaning in this modern world of ultra-processed food, social media, and endless news headlines. We are bombarded with distractions that cloud our mind and perception. That haze that you feel — that tired feeling of waking up each day — is meant to delay your ability to tap into the divine essence within you, something beyond a human being.

You are a demigod.

When I consider the teachings of Christ, I always come back to this thought he shares: to be in the world, but not of it.

The more I’ve spent the past 2½ years working in a park, surrounded by nature, carving my own path and values for how I would like to spend my time — working and playing, essentially returning to the Garden of Eden each morning — I realized that God set me apart.

I’m not telling you that I’m a chosen one. I’m telling you that you are too

And so each morning is a blessing, and this overwhelming feeling that flows through me is a mixture of joy and sorrow. It’s a feeling that’s indescribable with words — where the joy is so overwhelming and beautiful that it almost makes you feel sorrowful, because you’re unsure that others can feel this sensation.

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Eros and Agape

When you look at a beautiful human being, it’s inevitable that you will feel some sort of lust of the flesh — erotic love.

We are biological beings with hormones firing, who have the ability to sense with touch, taste, sound, and smell. These base-level senses give us pleasure and pain.

When I eat a delicious steak, grass-fed, directly from the Amish of Lancaster, I fill my tongue and mouth with pleasure.

When I pull my weight up on a bar, or wear my 40-pound plate carrier and go for a walk uphill, there is friction. There is pain. But through that pain, through that suffering, I become stronger.

I am an animal. I am a beast.

And so I am an animal. I eat the flesh of other animals and gain strength and nourishment from the energy they provide me.

When I wake up in the morning and bask in the glory of the sun, my cells are replenished. The cholesterol within my cells synthesizes vitamin D. My testosterone increases. My muscles grow. My overall strength and power increase.

And so, with this strength — this physiological power that I feel within my body — this joyful feeling, this gay and jolly attitude toward life simply has me grateful for another day in this beautiful place.

From this state of abundance, you begin to love so freely.

Love starts to flood through you and reaches its ceiling.

If somehow you kiss the face of God, you’re the luckiest man on earth and will never forget agape.

While you recognize the flesh of others, when you look into their eyes you can see and feel their soul.

Because all living things are made in the divine image of God, when you are looking through the eyes of another human being, you are witnessing, feeling, and experiencing the divine love of God.

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The Spirit of Transformation

When Hercules descended into Hades and conquered Cerberus, he was eventually lit on fire and ascended to Mount Olympus alongside the gods.

When Christ died on the cross, he descended into hell, and on the third day he rose to heaven.

And so the story of the descent and the ascent is an architectural story that I believe we neglect much too easily.

We disregard the mystical, the spiritual, because our iPhones are tangible, physical — a scrying device that allows you to commune with fallen angels.

Thank you, Prometheus, for your divine gift of fire, for we are currently at the precipice of incredible transformation.

But with the rapid advancement of technology, we have neglected the God that dwells within our physical bodies.

And so through fasting, and separating your physical body and mind from the modern world of distraction and consumption, you deprive yourself of base-level physical needs — belonging and satiety.

But in this deprived state, during the descent into hell, you are reborn again.

And when you conquer the beast that dwells within your mind, you eventually rise.

When you rise, you gain perception beyond your eyes.

You no longer look at life for what it is, but recognize the dream.

When you are aware of the dream, and the body as a machine, you begin to feel deeply and see much more clearly.

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The Photographer as Übermensch

Photography is my superpower, and the streets are a battlefield.

I wield my camera as a sword, striking through the heart of chaos and reflecting the soul of the street through the photographs that I create.

The problem with the mortal photographer is that they are looking at a man, or some old lady on a Bryant Park bench who has an interesting outfit on, or makes a unique gesture, and they believe that is what makes a great photograph.

The New York City street photographer frolics through Washington Square and hopes to find a unique character to uplift in a photograph — telling a visual story about what it’s like being a troubled youth, or making a portrait of a man in old age as a reminder of the transience of life.

But the demigod photographer, the Übermensch, is no longer looking at life in front of him as fact, or considering the content within the frame they make as a story.

The Über photographer — the demigod photographer — treats his life as the living work of art.

He simply follows the light.

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Banishing Myself from the Garden

And so I banished myself from the garden.

I can no longer stay in paradise forever.

I may have been clever in my ability to play the game within modern society in my own unique way, but it’s time to destroy again so that I can create.

Don’t get me wrong — paradise is great.

But chaos is even greater.

And now that I am a child again, nothing can break my spirit or my love for life.

When you have an insatiable love for life — when you are possessed by God, enthusiastic and eager for the day — no mortal, no tangible thing disturbs your mind or body.

From this divine peace and understanding comes equanimity and clarity.

And when you feel so deeply, when you experience such pure love, you grow wings and fly like the Holy Spirit — like the dove.

Icarus fell from the sky.
The Übermensch will land on Mars.

And so let us strive to go beyond this modern world and this material plane.

Eventually, when your mortal flesh perishes, Saint Michael will take you up on his wing.

Maybe you won’t live forever, but at least you can make a photograph!

Why I Shoot JPEG (And Never RAW)

What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.

Today I’m thinking about why I shoot JPEG and don’t shoot RAW.

Essentially, I shoot with a JPEG file — even with a monochrome camera — with a JPEG recipe, with the image control settings and everything baked within the camera. And the reason is simple: I’m trying to remove all friction in my practice.

The goal for me as a photographer is to be in a perpetual flow state of making new photographs.

And I choose to shoot with a JPEG monochrome camera setup because I’m looking for the fastest workflow possible.

You see, I’m looking to photograph with speed.

I’m not shooting monochrome or JPEG because I’m trying to create some aesthetic stylistic choice. I really couldn’t give a shit about that kind of stuff. I’m trying to speed up the process of photographing.

I’m trying to make it so photography becomes effortless and the flow state is inevitable.

And to get there, I had to strip away all the superfluous.

For the past three years, adopting a JPEG workflow has provided me with insane speed in terms of the amount of output I’m able to produce.

I mean, I have photographs everywhere.

I’ve got 13,000 prints stacked up on my table. I’ve made 360,000 frames in three years. I’ve never made this many photographs in the decade of my practice.

So the reason I’m shooting JPEG is simple:

Speed. Speed. Speed.

The Technical Reason: Speed and Simplicity

If we want to get into the technical side of things, I’m also interested in the longevity and simplicity of a JPEG file.

My workflow is incredibly simple.

I’ll take the JPEG file and import it directly into the Photos app on my iPad Pro, and I have this contact sheet where I can quickly go through, select, cull, and publish work at lightning speed.

It takes about a minute to import 1,000 photos.

Then I upload the photos and back them up immediately.

My entire archive from three years of shooting is only about 57 gigabytes.

That’s insane.

Initially, shooting JPEG was purely a technical decision. I was tired of the burden of coming home and dealing with RAW files — waiting for backups, putting things on hard drives, going through the whole process.

Back in 2022, I was in Hanoi, Vietnam, photographing with color and shooting RAW files. I’d be sitting in the hotel room at night thinking:

Holy shit, this is so slow and clunky.

It just felt ridiculous.

So I went home, sold my camera equipment, picked up the Ricohs, switched to JPEG, and I haven’t looked back since.

Now I’m making more photographs than ever.

The Philosophical Reason: Creative Constraint

But beyond the technical reasons, there’s also a philosophical side.

Once the workflow became frictionless, the entire practice changed.

I go out.
I photograph.
I come home.
I upload.
I back up.
I publish.

No processing.
No Lightroom.
No tinkering.

And that constraint becomes creatively liberating.

The more creative constraint you introduce, the more creative freedom you actually gain.

Freedom isn’t infinite choice.

Freedom is the elimination of choices.

The result is baked into the camera. I already know how the photograph will look. There’s nothing left to tweak or adjust afterward.

So instead of obsessing over photographs I made yesterday, I’m just in this perpetual photo flow state of making new frames.

Photography as Instinct

I’m not trying to make a perfect picture.

I’m not trying to make a photograph that describes life as fact.

I’m trying to make photography inevitable.

I’m stripping all the technicality away so that all I’m left with is intuition.

That’s why the commitment to JPEG is so powerful.

Yes, there’s a technical advantage — speed, file size, simplicity.

But philosophically, it’s about imposing a limitation that allows me to photograph prolifically, every single day.

I haven’t missed a single day of photography in three years.

Because there’s no friction.

No decisions about color or black and white.

No editing afterward.

I’m just making instant sketches of light when I’m out on the street.

Quickly.

Instinctively.

Creating Faster

With this workflow, I can go on a trip somewhere and photograph for a weekend.

By the time I’m on the train coming home from New York City, I’ve already:

• Culled the photographs
• Sequenced them
• Published them online
• Laid them out for a potential book

I can create a photo series in a weekend.

All because of a simple creative constraint.

By setting parameters around my practice, I’m actually forced to think more outside the box.

Stripping Photography to Its Essence

At the end of the day, I’m not trying to create my own style through some JPEG recipe.

That’s not the point.

The point is to strip everything down to the essence of the medium.

Just a black box.

A shutter button.

Light and shadow.

And when you remove everything else, you become a vessel for the medium.

That’s why I choose JPEG.

That’s my thought of the day.