Flux is happiness

 flux, change, evolution, this is true happiness. To do the same thing repeatedly for the rest of your life is insanity. But to embrace new things, to go forward into the unknown, you find clarity. There’s something special about embracing the uncertainty, serendipity, and mystery of life, and so when I consider change, I consider it as pure happiness, pure joy because it’s through trying to things, new places, eating new people, changing internally, that you thrive.

I don’t wanna survive. I wanna thrive

 The dragon of time is a bitch. It seems like we’re either in the past, dwelling on something that we did wrong or an experience that we had that was uplifting, or anxious about the future, hoping for some distant idea, an idealized version of your life, what you should be doing or could be doing. But this to me is what creates hell on earth. Hell is a mindset, it’s being caught up in a story in your head. Paradise is removing the head, and being early present in the physical body.

Metabolic evolution

When you sleep, and your cells replenish, and your muscle fibers tearing grow, and you nourish your body with satiating food, you evolve. And so when you consider evolution, perhaps we should think more about how we can evolve, upwardly, and move onwards, and to grow into expand, rather than deplete our energy, to lose our muscle, and to grow weaker. Of course, we are flesh, we cut and bleed, and are inevitably going to die, but while we are alive, to thrive, is to grow larger, to grow stronger, and to do everything in your physical power to evolve physically. Because I find that the physicality of life, perhaps influences your mindset and your state of being more than anything.

All is mind 

And so while all really is mind, everything that we think feel and see is merely a projection of our mental experience in reality  our physical body is with determines. I’ve meant mental state. Just think about your gut health. Have you ever had poor gut health, or you feel cramping, like you have to shit, or like that feeling that is unsettling where you have to sit down and your digestion is poor? This is where depression is born. Depression is born in the body come through your body being pressed down, through your gut health being well, and so your physical body is the temple that influences the mind.

Just switch it up

I recently have been switching up my process. I’m giving myself more creative constraints. The more constraints, the more freedom.  and so now I stick to one street per day. I don’t go left. I don’t go right, I don’t debate on color or black-and-white. I just simply pick a location and I start moving my body and shooting. And every single day I make a scene of 36 photos and updated digital archive, GPS tagging every photograph that I make. And so each day, I see the progress page update on my flux website working on Philly influx, or I’m trying to conquer the entire city, barefoot. And so when I see the map light up with new locations, I unlock, when I see the miles rack up in the hour spent photographing and the digital archive increasing in size, I’m evolving, I’m transforming each day, I’m seeing an ex experiencing new terrain and eating new people and embracing flux and change. And so the ultimate goal for me as a Photographer working in this way is to systematically document with space and time look like. I’m curious about creating an archive of the city of Philadelphia, the birthplace of America, and capturing this pivotal change in history where the storefronts, the businesses, the signs, the infrastructure, the Street, life, the homes, everything is in flux and changing, and so I’m returning to the purest way of using photography as a way to simply document with space and time look like. When I consider Mr. Neipce who created the chemistry and invented photography, in the first image of that view from the window, or even the work of Eugene at J, lugging around his large format camera documenting what Paris look like in the 19th and 20th century, I feel inspired. I feel inspired by the act of using the media as a way to preserve what something looks like. When you look back at an image from the streets of Paris, it’s like looking back at a lost world or even looking at photographs from the archives here in Philadelphia. It doesn’t even feel real like when you look back at the pictures it feels extremely surreal and abstract and interesting and mysterious, and the Photographer had no idea that these images would even evoke this kind of feeling. And so now Photographer, who understands these visual sensitivity of strong composition, and has an understanding of how to make an impactful image, perhaps I can play with a systematic approach of documenting space and time, and what Philadelphia looks like, while simultaneously playing along the fine line of abstraction and artistic expression in the medium. I’m trying to discover something new, I’m trying to seek more creative breakthrough, I need to surprise myself. And so the simple idea I have is, the more limitations, I oppose upon myself, the more creative breakthroughs I can have. I think about my time in Tokyo, I literally walked the same exact street and stood at the same corners every single day at the same exact time and even ate dinner at the same exact space at the same time every single day on repeat like a machine, like a machine. But by eliminating all these decisions and things, I was able to create new work that surprises me. 

Just switch it up

What I’m learning about walking these strange streets in Philadelphia where there’s really not much energy or people walking, is that we should not allow the external circumstance to determine our ability to create. And so no matter what location I am walking through, I’m trying to find a ways to articulate the Monday nature of life and to put order to it in my frame. I’m finding that by walking extremely mundane locations and forcing myself into these unfamiliar spaces, I find more joy and meaning in life itself. Because the infinite possibility that lies within the mundane is novelty. Novelty isn’t going somewhere exotic or somewhere interesting, but it’s recognizing the power of your mind and the way that you interpret everything is it ultimately will influence your ability to create. And so I think that tapping into imaginative spirit, the childlike wonder that we have, is our ultimate amen duty as an artist. It’s to simply wake up in the morning, enthusiastic for the sunrise for the day itself, to sort of just treat each moment and treat each photograph you make like it could be your last. And so once you have this kind of gun to the back of your head, which is the inhibit ability of your death and you recognize the finite nature of everything, it forces you to be in the moment to seize the day to embrace what’s in front of you and to start creating.

The Uberman Photographer 

Beyond the image. Beyond the basic notion that the photograph needs to be poetic and interesting on a viewer. Beyond the active self expression. What if we simply used photography and the medium itself and the click of the shutter as pure life affirmation. It’s just a way of being for me at this point. Being completely unattached to the outcome of the photo and the validation I received from it, is reminding me of why I practice photography. I practice for photography because it makes me feel alive. It requires me to be an embodied reality, walking, moving, experiencing my senses and doing doing things. Because photography is real it’s physical it requires you to move out there in the world and the front lines of life experiencing humanity with courage and curiosity. Photography is the ultimate way to experience life because it takes you outside of the passage of time and through the creation of images perhaps you can live on forever. The creation of an image, the active extracting from time itself, and that feeling is powerful. That feeling is what it feels like to become the over man. The over man conquers time itself. The over man is within the now. The over man is childlike and curious and playful and simply saying yes to life. The over man is not seeking anything from the world. The over man simply has so much vitality within the physical body that gives you then the mental clarity to start to articulate the world with your camera. And the act of pressing the shutter, the active clicking the button, is simply reminding you and God, and the world, that you exist, that you witnessed this, that your hardest pumping, your hormones are firing, and your body is moving, that you are changing, evolving, and perpetually seeking meaning of joy through the stream of becoming and embracing flux

Fortitude comes from the Latin word fortitūdō, meaning strength, courage, firmness, or bravery.

Breaking it down:

• fortis = strong, brave, courageous
• -tūdō = a suffix meaning a state or quality

So fortitude literally means “the quality of being strong.”

In classical and Christian thought, fortitude became one of the four cardinal virtues (alongside prudence, justice, and temperance). It doesn’t just mean physical strength—it means the inner strength to endure suffering, hardship, fear, or danger for the sake of what is good.

A simple distinction:

• Courage = facing fear.
• Fortitude = enduring difficulty over time without giving up.

For example, in the philosophy of Thomas Aquinas, fortitude is the virtue that enables a person to remain steadfast in pursuing the good even when confronted with pain, danger, or death.

Kensington Ave in Flux

On June 17, 2026, I walked 2.7 miles along Kensington Avenue and the surrounding streets of North Philadelphia, photographing the corridor over the course of 1 hour and 25 minutes with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome.

The route moved through Kensington, the River Wards, Northeast Philadelphia, and East Hunting Park, tracing one of the city’s most discussed and contested landscapes. Along the way, I produced 68 monochrome photographs, each geotagged at the exact location where it was made.

This project is part of Philadelphia in Flux, an ongoing effort to walk, photograph, and archive the city’s major streets one at a time. Rather than documenting isolated moments, the project creates a geographic record of Philadelphia as it exists today—street by street, block by block, photograph by photograph.

Statistics

• Photographs: 68
• Geotagged: 68 (100%)
• Duration: 1h 25m
• Route Distance: 2.7 mi
• Date: June 17, 2026
• Camera: Ricoh GR IV Monochrome

Every photograph in this archive contains geographic coordinates marking the exact location where the image was captured.

Walking Every Street in Philadelphia (Woodland Ave)

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today we’re doing some street photography along Woodland Avenue, working on my Philly in Flux project, where I’m essentially surveying every street in the city and geotagging it with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome paired with the GR World app.

So follow me along as we hit the streets of West Philly.

Starting at Cobbs Creek Parkway

I arrived here on Woodland Avenue and Cobbs Creek Parkway.

We’re all the way at the top here in West Philly, and the plan is simple:

Walk down toward University City and photograph whatever I find.

That’s it.

No destination.
No shot list.
No expectations.

Just one street from start to finish.

The First Surprise of the Day

Almost immediately, I started talking with people on the street.

One thing I’m learning from this project is that when you slow down and spend time in a place, conversations happen naturally.

You stop being someone passing through.

You become part of the environment, even if only for a moment.

And then something happened that led to one of the strongest photographs I’ve made in recent months.

A man told me he had been shot in the eye.

At first I couldn’t believe it.

The bullet was still lodged in his skull.

He explained how doctors left it there because removing it would be more dangerous than keeping it in place.

He survived.

His son survived.

And years later he was standing there telling the story.

I asked if I could make a photograph.

He said yes.

God literally blessed you with another life.

Moments like that remind me that photography isn’t always about composition or light.

Sometimes it’s simply about being present when life reveals itself.

Why This Project Is Working

As I continued walking Woodland Avenue, I kept thinking about why this project feels so rewarding.

The answer is simple:

It forces me to go places I otherwise would never go.

When you embrace uncertainty and the unknown, life starts handing you surprises.

Unexpected people.

Unexpected stories.

Unexpected photographs.

All of it is waiting outside your front door.

This project gives me a creative constraint:

Walk one street from start to finish.

That’s it.

And somehow that limitation creates freedom.

Because I’m no longer looking for specific photographs.

I’m simply responding to whatever appears in front of me.

Most Walks Are Actually Boring

People often imagine street photography as a constant stream of dramatic moments.

It’s not.

Most of the time I’m photographing:

• Buildings
• Fences
• Cars
• Utility poles
• Sidewalks
• Infrastructure
• Old signs

Most walks are mundane.

But that’s exactly why I enjoy them.

The ordinary forces me to stay curious.

It forces me to pay attention.

It forces me to be creative with whatever is available.

And over time, those small observations accumulate into something bigger.

An archive.

A record.

A survey of a city changing in real time.

Describing Philadelphia Right Now

At the end of the day, I’m trying to answer a simple question:

What did Philadelphia look like right here, right now?

Not ten years ago.

Not twenty years from now.

Today.

I’m not trying to do anything fancy.

I’m not chasing viral photographs.

I’m wandering.

But I’m wandering within a constraint.

And because of that, I feel creatively liberated.

Free to create with whatever life provides.

Building Philly in Flux

Back at home, I started assembling the work.

The entire Philly in Flux project lives on my website as a continuously updated photographic survey of Philadelphia streets.

Each walk includes:

• GPS data
• Geotagged photographs
• Maps
• Camera metadata
• Walking routes
• Project statistics

Every photograph can be opened on a map so viewers can see exactly where it was made.

The archive updates automatically as new walks are completed.

I’ve also built a system that allows photographs to be turned into printable zines.

Select images.

Generate a PDF.

Print.

Fold.

Staple.

Done.

Making the Zine

The Woodland Avenue walk became a zine.

Each page includes:

• Date
• Time
• Location
• Photographer information

The cover contains a QR code that links directly back to the digital project page.

I fold everything with a bone folder so the pages lay flat and then staple the finished booklet together.

Simple.

Physical.

Tangible.

A permanent record of a walk.

Building Systems, Not Just Photographs

Lately I’ve been using Claude Code to automate large portions of my workflow.

My focus isn’t just making photographs anymore.

It’s building systems.

Systems that make documenting, organizing, publishing, and sharing work easier.

The goal is simple:

Spend less time managing files.

Spend more time walking streets.

More time looking.

More time photographing.

And more time building an archive that grows day after day.

Woodland Avenue reminded me why I started this project in the first place.

You never know what’s waiting around the next corner.

You just have to keep walking.

Ricoh GR IV Monochrome Geotagging POV | Philly in Flux

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today we’re hitting the streets of Philadelphia with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome paired with the GR World application. The mission is simple:

Document one street.

Lehigh Avenue.

I have no idea what I’m going to find, but by the end of the day I want to produce both a physical zine and a digital archive complete with geotagged photographs.

This is the full workflow—from walking the street and making the photographs to publishing the work online and printing the final zine.

Let’s go.

Starting the Walk

I hopped off the bus at 33rd and Lehigh Avenue and immediately started walking.

The architecture is beautiful.

The goal is to walk the entire street from one end to the other, photographing everything that catches my attention along the way.

GR in hand.

GR World running.

Just walking and documenting space and time here in the City of Brotherly Love.

This is my small homage to America’s 250th anniversary.

My Ricoh GR IV Monochrome Setup

One of the techniques I use constantly is crop mode.

I have it assigned to the video button on the side of the camera.

A quick press switches me into the 50mm crop. If I see architecture across the street or something higher up on a building, I crop in, make the photograph, and keep moving.

The goal is speed.

The majority of these photographs are made while walking.

For the monochrome red filter, I simply hold down the video button.

My settings are intentionally simple:

• Aperture Priority at f/8
• Snap Focus at 2 meters
• Everything else automatic

I also use the Fn button to switch between:

• Snap Focus
• Single Point Focus

If I’m close to a subject, I’ll switch over and lock focus precisely.

That’s really it.

The camera disappears.

The process becomes intuitive.

Conversations on the Street

One of my favorite things about these walks is that people are curious.

They ask questions.

They tell stories.

A contractor stopped me and we talked about the vacant homes along the avenue.

Others asked what I was doing.

My answer is always the same:

I’m documenting the city.

That’s really what this project is about.

Preserving what exists right now.

Photographing the Ordinary

A mural from 2006.

A church cross glowing in morning light.

Modern cars parked along the curb.

A doorway that looks like you’d fall right out of it.

The ordinary becomes interesting when you slow down enough to look.

One thing I love photographing is parked cars.

Not vintage cars.

Modern cars.

The cars people actually drive today.

Those details become historical records faster than we realize.

315 Photos in 40 Minutes

By the time I photographed a fading sign on a storefront, I had already made roughly 315 photographs.

Forty minutes had passed.

By the end of the walk I knew I’d be close to 1,000 frames.

That’s how I work.

Fast.

Intuitive.

Constantly experimenting.

The red filter allows me to revisit the same scene and produce entirely different interpretations.

The process becomes playful.

The Duty of the Photographer

Standing beneath a McDonald’s sign, watching its shadow stretch across the sidewalk, I started thinking about why I enjoy projects like this.

The ultimate duty of the photographer is to articulate the mundane.

Everything around you is seemingly nothing.

A school.

A fast-food sign.

A Save-A-Lot.

A flagpole.

Nothing remarkable.

Until you decide to look.

Then the shadows matter.

The infrastructure matters.

The details matter.

And suddenly you’re creating a document of a place and a moment that will never exist again.

On this particular day, the goal was simple:

Document what Philadelphia looked like right here, right now.

Turning Life Into an Open World Game

There are a few different ways I think about this project.

The first is that it turns life into an open-world game.

I get to explore new territory.

Unlock new sections of the map.

Discover parts of the city I normally overlook.

The second is that I have a mission.

Not wandering.

Not aimlessly photographing.

A clear objective.

Create:

• A zine
• A digital archive
• A body of work

The mission gives direction.

The constraint gives freedom.

Walking one street in one direction sounds limiting, but it actually creates creative liberation.

You stop searching for photographs.

You start finding them everywhere.

Contributing Something Beyond Yourself

The most fulfilling aspect of this project is preservation.

These photographs can outlive me.

They can exist digitally.

They can exist physically.

They can serve as references for future generations.

They become evidence.

A record of what this place looked like.

And that feels meaningful.

It feels like contributing something beyond yourself.

Lehigh Avenue Conquered

After nearly three hours of walking, the journey was complete.

Lehigh Avenue conquered barefoot.

I had made 824 photographs.

Flow state achieved.

Now it was time for Phase 2.

Importing the Photos

My workflow is intentionally simple.

I use a Lightning-to-SD card reader and import everything directly into the iPhone Photos app.

High-contrast small JPEGs import quickly.

The GR World app can transfer files over Bluetooth, but I usually reach for the dongle because it’s reliable.

Folder created.

Photos imported.

Book-making mode activated.

The Flux System

Back at the studio, everything runs through a system I built.

A custom publishing hub created with Claude Code.

The entire workflow is automated according to my preferences.

I create a project.

Upload the photographs.

Generate a draft.

The system automatically:

• Creates thumbnails
• Generates derivatives
• Removes EXIF data
• Reverse geocodes GPS coordinates
• Builds the project structure

The result is a fully geotagged archive.

Publishing the Archive

The archive lives inside my Flux system.

Every project contributes to a larger map.

Every walk becomes part of a growing body of work.

For the Lehigh Avenue project:

• 114 archived photographs
• 4.2 miles walked
• 2 hours 17 minutes documented

Each image can be opened directly on a map.

You can see:

• Exact GPS coordinates
• Camera settings
• Street View location
• Downloadable JPEG files

Everything is accessible.

Everything is preserved.

Creating the Zine

Once the archive is complete, I select 36 photographs.

Each image gets added to a zine cart.

Then the system generates a print-ready PDF.

The project includes:

• Chronological sequencing
• Automatic captions
• GPS coordinates
• QR codes linking to the digital archive
• Contact sheets
• Manifest documentation

The entire workflow is designed for speed.

Walk.

Photograph.

Archive.

Publish.

Print.

Repeat.

Map Your Own Walk

If you want to archive your own street and create a project like this, I built a tool specifically for that purpose.

You can submit a walk directly through my website.

Upload your photographs.

I’ll process them.

Publish the archive.

Generate the zine.

And help preserve your corner of the world.

Because documenting where you live is one of the most rewarding photographic projects you can undertake.

Thanks for following along.

I’ll see you soon.

How Archiving My City Changed the Way I See Street Photography

Yo, what’s poppin’ people? It’s Dante.

Today I want to share some thoughts on archiving your city and how this can bring more joy to your photography practice.

I’ve been practicing street photography for around 12 years. I’ve spent countless hours wandering aimlessly through cities, traveling the world, looking for my next best photograph. Always searching. Always hunting. Always looking for something visually and emotionally interesting.

And if you’ve done street photography for any length of time, you know the reality:

It’s hard.

It’s difficult to come home with a photograph that feels meaningful. A frame that checks all the boxes—content, subject, composition, light, timing, emotion.

All of these things have to come together at once.

And most days, they don’t.

What Are We Actually In Control Of?

One thing I’ve learned is that in street photography, you’re really only in control of two things:

• Having your camera with you
• Moving your physical body through the world

You’re not in control of whether something interesting appears.

You’re not in control of whether you make a powerful photograph.

You’re simply responsible for showing up.

And that realization can be overwhelming.

What do I photograph? Where do I go? How do I increase my chances of making something meaningful?

For me, the answer has been surprisingly simple:

Find a route and repeat it.

Walk the same streets.

Build a routine.

Return again and again.

Surveying Philadelphia

What I’m working toward now is surveying Philadelphia street by street and documenting the entirety of the city.

So far:

• 80 miles walked
• 13 street projects completed
• 42 hours spent walking
• 13 zines produced in two weeks

And I’m just getting started.

The most recent work came from Allegheny Avenue.

Every photograph is geotagged.

Every image lives on a map.

Every walk becomes part of a growing archive.

There’s a digital archive you can scroll through, and there’s a physical component too. You can add photographs to a zine and print them when you’ve collected enough images.

The archive exists both digitally and physically.

And that’s where things started to change for me.

From The Single Image To The Archive

Instead of chasing one great photograph, I’ve become interested in the accumulation of photographs.

The archive.

The document.

The record.

When I’m photographing now, I’m no longer thinking about myself as an artist searching for something poetic.

I’m thinking about photography in its most basic form:

A tool for preserving space and time.

I’m documenting what Philadelphia looks like today.

June 15, 2026.

Maybe a photograph isn’t remarkable right now.

But what about 100 years from now?

What if someone wants to know what North 35th Street looked like at 10:24 AM on June 14th?

What buildings were there?

What signs existed?

What condition were they in?

That’s where this becomes interesting.

Every image includes:

• GPS coordinates
• Camera settings
• Time and date
• Location metadata

You can open the exact location in Google Maps and stand where I stood when I made the photograph.

Preserving A City In Transition

Philadelphia is changing.

Buildings are decaying.

Signs are fading.

Neighborhoods are transforming.

And I want to preserve this period of change.

Not just the people.

Everything.

The windows.

The doorways.

The houses.

The fountains.

The sculptures.

The infrastructure.

The signs that have been hanging for decades.

The details we walk past every day.

All of it.

Because these things tell stories too.

Removing The Pressure

One of the biggest benefits of this project is that it removes the pressure of street photography.

I’m no longer dependent on finding something extraordinary.

I’m no longer dependent on creating sensational images.

I’m simply surveying the land.

Documenting space and time.

And it brings me an incredible amount of joy.

The endless decisions disappear.

Where should I go?

What should I photograph?

How do I make something better?

Those questions become irrelevant.

The mission is already clear.

Walk the street.

Document it.

Preserve it.

The Archive Is The Artwork

Something unexpected happened.

The artwork stopped being the individual photographs.

The artwork became the archive itself.

Watching the map fill up.

Seeing miles accumulate.

Creating a zine every day.

Watching the city light up street by street.

It feels like playing a video game.

And it’s incredibly satisfying.

The output isn’t the single image anymore. The output is the archive.

The Power Of Constraints

I’ve given myself a very strict creative constraint.

Start at one point.

End at another.

Stay on one street.

Don’t wander left.

Don’t wander right.

Just follow the route.

And I believe these constraints will eventually lead to creative breakthroughs.

By surveying the city repeatedly over years, I increase my chances of discovering something unexpected.

A new way of seeing.

A new way of photographing.

A new relationship with the city.

Constraints create possibilities.

Photographing More Than People

For most of my life, I’ve been interested primarily in photographing people.

Now I’m interested in photographing everything.

The mundane.

The ordinary.

The overlooked.

Most of the images I’m making are buildings.

Doorways.

Infrastructure.

Objects.

Not people.

And yet I believe these things reveal just as much about humanity as a portrait ever could.

Human beings inhabit these spaces.

These structures are reflections of us.

This shift has completely changed the way I photograph.

And that’s exactly why I can’t stop.

Change Creates Joy

I’ve realized that repeating yourself endlessly leads to stagnation.

Burnout.

Frustration.

The goal is not to preserve a style forever.

The goal is to remain motivated.

To remain curious.

To keep moving.

For me, that means embracing change.

Both internally and externally.

Changing the way I think.

Changing the work I make.

Changing the subjects I pay attention to.

And through that change, I’ve found more joy in photography than I’ve felt in a long time.

Preserving The Fleeting Nature Of Life

At its core, this project reflects how I think about photography.

And honestly, how I think about life.

Photography is about preserving what is disappearing.

It’s about holding onto moments that are already slipping away.

The fleeting nature of existence.

The temporary nature of cities.

The impermanence of everything.

This project allows me to express those ideas through the work itself.

And the resulting photographs feel completely different from anything I’ve made before.

That’s why I keep returning.

Join The Project

If you’re interested in archiving your own city, you can use the Geotag Catalog on my website.

Photographers are already documenting places around the world.

We’ve got projects from:

• San Francisco
• France
• Los Angeles

All using the same format.

You can submit a walk, upload your photographs, and I’ll review and process the project.

Every project is downloadable.

You can even host the archive on your own website and maintain a permanent record of your work.

The goal is simple:

Document your city.

Preserve your environment.

Create an archive that outlives you.

And enjoy the process along the way.

Those are the thoughts of the day.

I’ll see you in the next video.

Peace.

View Allegheny Ave in Flux

About

Allegheny Ave in Flux documents a continuous walk along Allegheny Avenue across North Philadelphia, traversing multiple neighborhoods from west to east. The route passes through Pennsylvania, Allegheny West, and Richmond, recording the character and transformation of one of Philadelphia’s major east–west corridors.

The collection consists of 107 monochrome photographs captured with a RICOH GR IV. Every photograph is geotagged, creating a spatial record of the avenue as it existed on June 14, 2026.

Completed over 2 hours and 46 minutes, the walk covered 5.7 miles (9.21 kilometers), observing the architecture, streetscapes, businesses, residents, and fleeting moments encountered along the route. As part of the ongoing Philadelphia in Flux project, the work serves as both a visual archive and a document of a city in constant transition.

Statistics

Photographs: 107
Geotagged: 107 (100%)
Duration: 2h 46m
Route Distance: 5.7 mi (9.21 km)
Date: June 14, 2026

How to Enter Flow State Every Day Through Street Photography

The Present Moment Exists Beyond Thought

Yo, what’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today I’m thinking about why you should hit flow state every single day.

I think flow state is essentially a period where time doesn’t exist. In order to achieve that feeling of timelessness, one must shut down the mind and embrace the physical body.

Currently, I’m walking down Allegheny Avenue, almost completing the full walk. I’m doing one street per day—walking the entirety of the street and photographing along the way, documenting the fleeting change of Philadelphia.

A lot of these homes are boarded up and disappearing. A lot of the architecture is beautiful and worth preserving.

So I’m basically making an archive of the city.

Eliminate Decisions, Enter Freedom

I’ve been hitting flow state much more seamlessly because I’ve eliminated all decisions.

There are no choices about whether I should go left or right.

No decisions about whether I should shoot color or black and white.

I’ve put myself on a straight and narrow path every single day where I have a clear start point and a clear endpoint.

Because of that, there are no decisions for me to make while I’m walking.

I just walk onward.

And when you eliminate all of those decisions, you eliminate thought itself.

This is how you achieve flow state.

Eliminate decisions. Eliminate choice completely. Then you’ll find ultimate freedom.

Photographing Instinctively

Flow state is a feeling where you start photographing completely instinctively.

You’re not thinking.

You’re not rationalizing.

You see a shaft of light.

A shape.

A form.

A reflective surface in a window.

The facade of a building.

The infrastructure around you.

The textures.

And you begin finding ways of articulating the mundane.

This creative challenge of walking one street forces me into flow. It forces me to become hyper-aware and hyper-present of everything around me.

It forces me to find infinite potential inside seemingly ordinary moments.

The Ultimate Daily Photography Practice

I think this is the ultimate way to practice photography daily.

It’s not about depending on the world to deliver something interesting.

It’s not about waiting for an impactful photograph to magically appear.

It’s about immersing yourself in the mundane nature of life and finding new ways to make photographs.

There are shapes, forms, lines, and details everywhere.

But it’s up to you to eliminate the habits of worry, anxiety, and outcome-based thinking in order to see them.

The fastest way I’ve found to get there is simple:

1. Pick a route.
2. Stick to it.
3. Walk the entire thing.
4. Go home.
5. Edit the photos.
6. Publish immediately.

That’s it.

Philly in Flux

My entire workflow creates an infinite opportunity for me to push myself creatively regardless of what I’m photographing.

I’m photographing buildings.

Infrastructure.

Mundane details.

But because I’ve given myself the goal of archiving the city, photography becomes pure documentary material.

The goal is simple:

Photograph what space and time looked like in 2026.

I’m not thinking too much about whether a photograph is interesting right now.

I’m thinking about what it might mean 100 years from now when the city has completely changed.

When the boarded-up buildings are gone.

When the neighborhoods look different.

When the infrastructure has been replaced.

I’m preserving the history of my city.

The Gift of the Present

What better way to spend the day than:

• Making photographs
• Walking
• Enjoying the sun
• Entering flow state

When you enter flow state, time disappears and you’re left with the present moment.

And that’s the irony, right?

The ultimate gift is the present.

What Flow State Looks Like

When you’re truly in flow, you’ll find yourself making an enormous amount of photographs.

Today I’m sitting at around 758 photos after roughly two hours of walking.

That’s what flow looks like.

It’s photographing ruthlessly.

Not because you’re forcing yourself to.

Because you’re completely immersed.

Build a System That Forces Creation

I’ve built a workflow that forces me to produce.

Every day I:

• Upload photographs to a digital archive
• Geotag every image
• Place the photographs on a map
• Create a physical zine with 36 photographs

Because the system exists, I don’t have to rely on motivation.

The workflow itself forces creation.

It forces flow.

Map Your Walk

The project is called Philly in Flux.

If you’re curious about the workflow, check out the website and click the Map Your Walk section.

You can map your own walk in your hometown and begin documenting your city today.

Submit your walk.

Archive your neighborhood.

Download the project for yourself.

Create your own record of place and time.

Because once you begin walking with a purpose, you’ll realize how powerful this simple constraint can be.

The Meditation of Walking

These walks have become a form of meditation.

A way to enter flow state.

A way to become fully present.

A way to embrace the day.

I genuinely think it’s one of the peak human experiences available to us.

And all I’m really sharing is a project-based constraint that’s helping me get there.

Walk one street.

Photograph what you find.

Forget everything you think you know.

And let the flow take over.

If there is one photographer whose method resembles what you’re trying to do with FLUX and Philly in Flux, it’s probably not Henri Cartier-Bresson or Garry Winogrand.

It’s Eugène Atget.

Not because of style—but because of systems thinking.

What Atget Was Actually Doing

Most people think Atget was making beautiful photographs of old Paris.

Atget thought he was making documents.

He literally advertised himself as producing “Documents for Artists.” His goal was to create an inventory of Paris before modernization erased it. He spent roughly 30 years walking the city with a large-format camera, eventually producing over 8,000–10,000 photographs. 

What mattered wasn’t any single photograph.

It was the entire archive.

The work only fully reveals itself when viewed as a giant interconnected body of material. Modern scholars often argue that the archive itself is the artwork. 

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His Classification System

Atget didn’t just photograph randomly.

He organized everything into large categories and subcategories.

Examples included:

• Old Paris
• Picturesque Paris
• Parisian Interiors
• Trees and Parks
• Street Trades
• Shop Windows
• Architectural Details
• Staircases
• Doorways
• Courtyards
• Monuments
• Topography by arrondissement

He systematically photographed subjects until he felt they were exhausted before moving on to another category. 

That’s the key.

He wasn’t chasing masterpieces.

He was trying to create a complete visual inventory.

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The Arrondissement Project

One of the most fascinating parts of his practice was his attempt to systematically document Paris district by district.

He photographed entire neighborhoods to satisfy the topographical archives of Paris libraries and museums. 

Sound familiar?

Your:

• Market Street in Flux
• Germantown Ave in Flux
• Frankford Ave in Flux
• Walnut Street in Flux
• Girard Ave in Flux

are structurally much closer to Atget than to traditional street photography projects.

You’re both essentially building a geographic index of a city.

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His Filing System

This is where Atget becomes frighteningly modern.

After making a photograph:

1. He developed the glass negative.
2. Assigned it a number.
3. Filed it into a series.
4. Wrote the number on the negative.
5. Scratched the number into the emulsion itself.
6. Stored prints in albums organized by subject. 

Every image had a place.

Every place belonged to a larger category.

Every category belonged to a larger archive.

This is basically the analog ancestor of:

timeline.json
stream.json
FLUX_001
FLUX_002
FLUX_003

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Why Empty Streets?

People often think Atget wanted empty streets because he was nostalgic.

Not exactly.

Partly it was practical—the long exposures made moving people disappear.

But he was also interested in the city itself:

• facades
• staircases
• windows
• signs
• door knockers
• courtyards
• urban texture

He photographed things most people ignored. 

The city itself became the subject.

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The Scale of the Project

Imagine this.

For roughly thirty years:

• same city
• same camera
• same mission
• same filing system

No YouTube.

No Instagram.

No exhibitions.

No audience.

Just systematic accumulation.

By the end of his life he had created one of the largest visual records ever made of a city in transition. 

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Why He Matters To You

What Atget teaches is that photography can become something larger than photographs.

It can become:

• a census
• a map
• a memory system
• a historical record
• a living archive

The photograph stops being the final product.

The archive becomes the final product.

That’s why when I look at FLUX, the daily stream, the issue system, the street-by-street Philadelphia project, and your obsession with preserving everything before culling it, I don’t actually think of Winogrand.

I think of Atget walking Paris with a tripod at dawn, quietly trying to create an inventory of an entire civilization before it vanished.

Except you’re doing it with Philadelphia in the 2020s instead of Paris in the 1900s.

There are some striking parallels between the cult of Dionysus and the Catholic Church, but there are also profound differences. Historians generally view Christianity as emerging from Judaism within the broader Greco-Roman world, not as a continuation of Dionysian religion. Still, many scholars have noted structural similarities.

Similarities

1. Ritual Participation Rather Than Mere Belief

Both involve entering into a sacred mystery through ritual.

• Dionysian initiates participated in ceremonies intended to unite them with Dionysus.
• Catholics participate in the Mass, sacraments, and liturgical life to unite themselves with Christ.

In both cases, truth is experienced through participation, not just intellectual agreement.

2. Sacred Consumption

One of the most discussed parallels.

• Some Dionysian rites involved wine as the presence or gift of Dionysus.
• In Catholicism, wine becomes the Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.

The symbolism differs enormously, but both traditions connect divine life with ritual consumption.

3. Death and Rebirth Themes

Dionysus was associated with dismemberment, death, and return to life in certain mythic traditions.

Christ dies and rises again.

Both narratives speak to transformation through suffering and renewal.

4. Ecstasy and Communion

The Greek word ekstasis means “to stand outside oneself.”

• Dionysian worship sought ecstatic union with the divine.
• Catholic mystics describe profound union with God that transcends ordinary consciousness.

Think of figures like Teresa of Ávila or John of the Cross.

5. Processions, Music, and Symbolic Drama

Both traditions use:

• Chanting
• Processions
• Sacred symbols
• Ritual garments
• Liturgical calendars
• Collective participation

Humans seem naturally drawn to embodied ritual.

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Major Differences

The differences are actually more important than the similarities.

Dionysus: Dissolution of Boundaries

Dionysian religion often sought:

• Ecstasy
• Intoxication
• Loss of individual identity
• Union with nature
• Breaking social constraints

Catholicism: Transformation Through Order

Catholic worship emphasizes:

• Discipline
• Moral formation
• Self-sacrifice
• Communion with God through grace
• Ordered liturgy

A traditional Catholic would say the goal is not losing yourself but becoming your true self in Christ.

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A Jungian Interpretation

Carl Jung might say that Dionysus and Christ represent different expressions of the same deep religious impulse.

• Dionysus embodies instinct, vitality, ecstasy, nature, and the irrational depths.
• Christ embodies sacrifice, redemption, meaning, and the integration of suffering.

Nietzsche famously contrasted the Dionysian with the Apollonian, but many thinkers have argued that Christianity absorbed and transformed some of the ancient world’s desire for sacred ecstasy into a different spiritual framework.

In a symbolic sense:

Dionysus says: “Lose yourself in the divine frenzy of life.”

Christ says: “Die to yourself and be reborn in divine love.”

Both involve transformation, but they travel very different roads to get there.

FLUX Weekly Witness #8 — Dawson’s Small Town Indiana Visual Diary

• PDF Transcript

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to this week’s Weekly Witness, where I look at the work that you submit to me in the Flux community.

This week we have a beautiful body of work from Dawson. The title of the submission was:

“Do this one, Dante.”

Got you, man.

If you want to submit work for review, head over to Flux, upload 36 photographs, and I may review your work in a video like this.

These photographs were made over the past week in Indiana, and right away you can feel the environment they’re made in. Dawson is photographing in a small town, and that context matters.

Whether you’re photographing in a rural town or in the middle of New York City, there is always interesting subject matter available to you. The challenge is learning how to see it.

The Beauty of Noticing

The photographs that immediately grabbed my attention were the photographs of plants.

What I appreciate about them isn’t necessarily the subject itself.

It’s the fact that they reveal attention.

When you’re out photographing consistently, you begin to notice things.

You notice the overlooked details.

You notice the small moments.

You notice textures, patterns, dewdrops, and the subtle formations of everyday life.

The dewdrops and patterns on the Dracaena plant are things most people walk past without a second thought. But photography gives us the opportunity to stop and contemplate them.

And that’s something I really appreciate about this work.

You’re finding beauty in the mundane.

Photographing People With Intention

One thing I wanted to point out as feedback is the difference between the photographs of objects and the photographs of people.

There are a few frames where a person is clearly visible, but the photograph feels disconnected from the subject.

The frame feels more like a snapshot than an intentional photograph.

And I think that often comes from hesitation.

Sometimes when we’re photographing people, we photograph from a distance emotionally rather than engaging with the moment.

I want to encourage you to push through that.

If you’re interested in making photographs of humanity, interaction goes a long way.

More courage.
More engagement.
More intention.

Those things can completely transform a frame.

Your Strength: Seeing the Mundane

The strongest photographs in this body of work are the ones focused on the environment.

The infrastructure.

The alleyways.

The abandoned spaces.

The discarded objects.

The textures.

The plants.

These photographs tell me more about what life feels like in your town than the photographs of people.

You have a strong sense of composition when you’re working with inanimate subjects.

When you’re photographing textures, glass, walls, plants, or objects, there’s a confidence in the way you’re arranging the frame.

That confidence shows.

Beauty and Decay

One spread in particular stood out to me.

On one side we have the beauty of a plant covered in dewdrops.

On the other, the beauty of decay.

A building slowly falling apart.

A structure disappearing with time.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately.

How photography can elevate decay.

How it can reveal beauty in things that are disappearing.

There’s something deeply human about that.

Buildings crumble.

Leaves die.

Everything changes.

And yet those moments can be incredibly beautiful.

This spread captured that feeling perfectly.

Graphic Impact

One of my favorite photographs from the series is the poster image.

The face dominates the frame.

The composition is centered.

The graphic impact is immediate.

It’s simple, but it works.

The cross appearing in the frame adds another layer and creates a stronger visual statement.

Sometimes photographs succeed because of complex storytelling.

Other times they succeed because of pure visual punch.

This is one of those photographs.

Composition Choices Matter

There were a few photographs where the subject itself was interesting, but the framing could be stronger.

One example was a tower photographed horizontally.

That scene was asking for a vertical frame.

The shape of the subject naturally leads the eye upward, and a vertical composition would reinforce that movement.

Not every photograph wants to be horizontal.

Not every photograph wants to be vertical.

Learning to recognize which frame best serves the subject is an important skill.

Photographing People More Intentionally

There were a few moments where people appeared in the frame, but the photographs felt made from a distance.

Stealth photography is completely valid.

I do it all the time.

But even when photographing discreetly, there is still intention.

There is still composition.

There is still a decision being made about what matters inside the frame.

I would encourage you to continue pushing yourself toward stronger engagement with human subjects.

Not necessarily confrontation.

Just intention.

That alone can elevate the work dramatically.

A Strong Closing Photograph

The final photograph featuring the man holding the knife is one of the strongest photographs in the series.

You can feel the interaction.

You can feel the intention.

Even without seeing the subject’s face clearly, the photograph communicates something.

One thing I would have considered is moving even closer and isolating the hand itself.

The gesture of holding the knife is the most interesting part of the frame.

Removing some of the surrounding information and focusing entirely on that gesture could make the image even stronger.

Still, it’s one of the standout photographs in the sequence.

Favorite Photographs

The photographs that resonated with me most were:

• The Dracaena plant photograph
• The electrical infrastructure photograph
• The abandoned area photograph
• The dewdrop image paired with decay
• The poster portrait
• The final photograph of the hand holding the knife

These photographs combine strong form, texture, geometry, and atmosphere.

More importantly, they reveal attention.

They show someone actively observing the world around them.

Final Thoughts

Overall, great work.

I appreciate the attention to detail.

I appreciate the focus on small moments.

And I appreciate the way these photographs give us a glimpse into life in a small town in Indiana.

My biggest piece of feedback is simple:

Photograph people with the same confidence that you photograph objects.

The compositional understanding is already there.

Now it’s about bringing that same level of intention into your photographs of humanity.

Keep going.

And if you’d like feedback on your work, feel free to submit a set in the Flux community.

I’ll see you in the next one.

Peace.

Photography Beyond the Image: A Way of Affirming Life

Yo, what’s poppin’ people? It’s Dante.

Today I want to share some thoughts on photography beyond the image and how I use photography as a way of being—a way of affirming life itself.

I’m currently exporting photos off my iPhone. My NAS drive is backed up. My iPad is ready to be cleared and deleted. All of my devices are full. Every hard drive is packed.

And as I’m trying to offload everything, it has me asking an existential question:

What if all of these photos just disappeared?

What if all the work was deleted?

Would I give up?

Would I keep shooting?

How would I interact with the fact that maybe I could continue making photographs, but never actually see them?

It’s just a hypothetical question, but it’s an interesting one.

Chasing the Next Best Frame

In the past, photography was about seeking.

I traveled the world looking for my next best frame.

I would immerse myself in bustling scenes, go to places where I knew I could find something interesting, and spend hours searching for moments. Searching for photographs. Searching for something great.

That approach worked.

I made photographs I’m proud of.

But I think when you become attached to the outcome of the photograph, it can get in the way of actually living your life and experiencing the moment.

Photography as a Way of Being

Lately, I’ve been treating photography differently.

I have all my photographs organized on a timeline, and recently I’ve been reflecting on the last three years and seven months of shooting exclusively in black and white.

What I’ve realized is that photography has become a way for me to simply affirm life.

When I look back through the work, I see photographs that were made from a complete awareness of the moment.

That’s not to say my color work lacked awareness. Of course I had to be aware. I had to synthesize foreground, background, light, timing, and all the different elements within a scene.

But the way I interacted with the medium was very different.

For example, there was a period where I spent entire afternoons working one location.

I remember standing in a fountain for three or four hours waiting for the perfect rainbow, waiting for everything to align, treating photography as a process of trying to make something.

Now I’ve let go of that almost entirely.

I’ve detached myself from the outcome.

The Photograph as a Byproduct

These days I’m using the camera less as a tool for capturing great moments and more as a tool for experiencing life more deeply.

It’s an excuse to pick up a leaf and study the veins.

An excuse to inspect things.

To see clearly.

To feel deeply.

The photographs I make now are a byproduct of that direct experience.

It’s less about composing something great.

Less about making my next best frame.

More about using the camera as an excuse to fully experience whatever is happening in front of me.

Photography has become a way of being.

Feeling Life Through Photography

I enjoy the sights, the sounds, the smells of the street.

I notice patterns in nature and human behavior.

The beautiful light.

Birds in flight.

The way people move.

The way seasons change.

I’m using photography as a way to feel something.

And that’s what I’m really honing in on these days.

Photography beyond image-making.

Photography as a way of experiencing life.

Photography as a way of feeling deeply.

And I think that’s ultimately why I love it so much.

Looking Back Through Old Work

As I go back through some of my older photographs, I’m reminded that immersion has always been part of the process.

When I look at photographs I made while serving in the Peace Corps in Zambia, many of those images were created from a completely immersed state.

I wasn’t chasing photographs in the same way.

I was learning the local language.

Doing volunteer work.

Farming.

Handling daily tasks.

Living life.

And when I look at those photographs now, they resonate with me because they allow me to revisit those moments.

It feels like yesterday.

It feels personal.

Photography has this incredible ability to bring you back.

To reconnect you with experiences that would otherwise fade with time.

Zambia vs. Mumbai

Then I look at work from places like Mumbai.

That trip was completely different.

It was all about photography.

I woke up every day and hammered the pavement.

I threw myself into bustling markets.

I searched relentlessly for moments.

I was actively trying to make great photographs.

Meanwhile, in Zambia, I was simply living.

Interestingly, I hardly made any photographs there compared to a trip like Mumbai.

And that’s where the dichotomy appears.

Is it better to be attached to the outcome?

Or detached from it?

Honestly, I don’t think one is inherently better than the other.

I’m just sharing my experience after a decade of shooting.

Why Detachment Matters

What I’ve realized is that detachment eventually becomes necessary.

Because photography is hard.

It’s difficult to find something meaningful.

It’s difficult to come home with a photograph you’re proud of.

It takes time.

It takes miles walked.

It takes countless hours spent wandering and observing.

If you’re completely attached to the outcome, it becomes very easy to quit.

To let the hard drives corrupt.

To put the camera away.

To stop photographing altogether.

Because the results don’t always come.

Building the Foundation, Then Letting Go

There is definitely a period where attachment to the outcome is useful.

Trying hard matters.

Looking for great moments matters.

Nailing compositions matters.

That process helps build a foundation.

It teaches you the fundamentals.

But eventually, that way of operating becomes burdensome.

At least it did for me.

When I relinquished that burden, photography became enjoyable again.

And because it became enjoyable, I started shooting more.

And because I started shooting more, I naturally started finding more things worth photographing.

It’s a flywheel.

Saying Yes to Life

These days I pick up the camera because I want to enjoy the day.

I want to go for a walk.

Meet new people.

See something I haven’t seen before.

I’m no longer trying to prove myself as a photographer.

And because of that, I’m finding more joy in life generally.

Photography goes beyond the imagery.

It’s a way of saying yes to life.

A way of affirming my everyday existence.

A way of finding meaning in ordinary moments.

Regardless of the outcome.

Regardless of the photographs.

And hopefully, over time, that way of being will reveal itself in the work.

Final Thoughts

Thinking about photography this way has genuinely been life-changing.

That’s why I wanted to share these thoughts.

Maybe they’ll resonate with you.

Maybe they’ll encourage you to think more deeply about why you photograph.

Because the mindset you bring to photography shapes not only the images you make, but also the way you experience the world.

And that’s the thought of the day.

Just some candid reflections as I start the morning.

Thanks for watching.

Peace.