Why Do We Create? The Philosophy of Street Photography & Radical Detachment

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante, currently walking around Philadelphia.

Today I wanted to ponder a simple question:

Why do we create?

Why do we paint, draw, sculpt, record, photograph, write poetry, or express ourselves through art at all?

What’s the driving force behind it?

Creating as a Response to Mortality

I think there’s something deeply existential about it.

Life has an inevitable timeline. We all know where it ends.

Maybe we create because we’re trying, in some small way, to immortalize our lives.

Maybe every photograph, painting, song, or journal entry is our attempt to push back against that reality.

Maybe we all seek to live forever.

And so we create.

Photography as Presence

For me personally, photography has become less about the photographs.

It’s become a way of engaging with the present moment.

I’ve become so radically detached from my photographic output that I sometimes ask myself a strange question:

What if I never actually saw the images?

Would I still photograph?

Would I still walk outside with my camera every day knowing I’d never review a single frame?

I genuinely don’t know.

It’s a fun thought experiment because it forces you to ask:

Why are you photographing in the first place?

Detaching From the Outcome

Of course the output matters.

We make photographs to express ourselves.

A JPEG can live forever.

A print can hang on a wall.

We can share our work with friends.

Creation naturally wants to become something tangible.

But imagine removing the outcome completely.

If you practiced photography purely for the act itself…

Would you still do it?

I think when you detach yourself from creating for the result, you begin to reshape why you create altogether.

Photography Makes Everyday Life Meaningful

I create because it’s enjoyable.

Photography simply gives me a beautiful way to spend my days.

Every moment becomes meaningful.

There’s always something to notice.

Something to explore.

Something worth paying attention to.

More than anything…

It gets me out the door.

And for that alone, I’m forever grateful for photography.

The Artwork Is the Process

Photography requires your body.

It asks you to move.

To walk.

To explore.

To engage with people.

To visit unfamiliar places.

Whether you make a great photograph almost becomes secondary.

Maybe…

The artwork was never the photograph. Maybe the artwork is the process itself.

What if we treated our lives as living works of art?

That’s how I increasingly think about it.

Walking around Philadelphia.

Listening to honking cars.

Watching people pass by.

Hearing birds overhead.

Simply existing inside reality with a camera in my hand.

That experience itself feels deeply fulfilling.

Radical Detachment

Because of that…

I don’t worry much anymore.

I’m not worried about the frame.

I’m not worried about composition.

I’m not worried whether people praise what I make.

When you remember that one day you’ll die…

Who cares?

You might as well play.

You might as well enjoy yourself.

Once you stop trying to prove your work is worth looking at…

…and instead find fulfillment in the act itself…

I think that’s when authentic expression begins.

Then Why Share?

Of course there’s a paradox.

If none of it matters…

Why upload to YouTube?

Why build a website?

Why publish books?

Why share anything?

Because I also think every creator secretly hopes someone else will experience what they’ve made.

I don’t think anyone creates entirely in isolation forever.

We naturally want another person on the other side.

Someone to connect with.

That’s part of being human.

From Fame to Something Higher

I’ve been thinking a lot about Achilles.

His name echoes throughout history.

We all seek some version of that.

Glory.

Recognition.

Fame.

The Greeks called it kleos.

Today, the internet has become our modern pursuit of kleos.

We publish.

We share.

We hope to be remembered.

But lately I’ve been wondering:

What if we redirected that pursuit?

Instead of seeking worldly glory…

What if we sought a divine kleos?

Instead of asking people to validate our work…

We asked whether what we made pleased God.

That single thought has genuinely changed my life.

Why I Photograph

These days…

I simply want to please God.

I want to dance.

Explore.

Laugh.

Sing.

Jump around with my camera like a big kid.

Maybe that childlike spirit is enough.

Maybe creating from that place is all that’s required.

And maybe someone watching this video will begin asking themselves the same question:

Why are you doing what you’re doing?

And…

Who are you really doing it for?

Photography, for me, has become a beautiful excuse to experience life more deeply.

To look closely.

To feel deeply.

To be present.

And honestly…

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

---

Here we are—the birthplace of America.

Tommy J signed the Declaration of Independence here.

He penned it… or something.

You saw it here first on Flux TV.

Signing out.

Flux Archive 006 — Follow the Gesture

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to Flux Archive #6, where I look at some of my photography and share a few lessons I’ve learned along the way.

Today we’re looking at photographs I made throughout Rome in 2023, and I want to talk about gesture in street photography and the power of photographing somewhere new.

The Power of Novelty

I spent around two months in Rome.

I’m actually a dual citizen between the United States and Italy, and I have cousins and extended family living in Napoli and Rome. It feels like my second home, so I spent time reconnecting with my roots while photographing throughout the Eternal City.

Rome is overflowing with beauty.

Architecture.

Churches.

Sculptures.

History.

When you arrive somewhere like this, it can almost become overwhelming.

Where do you look?

Where do you begin?

I’ve found that the simplest solution is to stop chasing spectacular scenes and start looking at gesture.

Gesture Is Everywhere

Whether it’s someone sleeping on the street…

A dress blowing in the wind…

Feet moving across cobblestones…

Or someone looking up toward the sky…

Gesture is everywhere.

You don’t need something extraordinary to make an interesting photograph.

The smallest movement can completely transform an ordinary scene.

The way someone holds their hands.

The direction of a gaze.

A slight turn of the body.

Those simple moments create tension, elegance, and mystery.

They’re what trigger me to raise the camera.

Photograph the Movement

When I photograph in busy places, I’m not necessarily looking for obvious moments.

I’m looking at the movement of people.

How they walk.

How they stand.

How they interact with each other.

Sometimes it’s simply a blanket blowing in the wind between two buildings.

There aren’t crowds.

There isn’t action.

There’s just movement.

And that’s enough.

Let Gesture Guide the Composition

During Ferragosto I photographed a young girl reaching for a bucket through a doorway.

That reaching gesture became the center of interest.

The doorway simply emphasized it.

Another frame shows two men sitting on a stairway.

One of them turns and looks directly toward me.

That eye contact creates the photograph.

Elsewhere, a man walks through the foreground while a young girl stands illuminated in the background.

The gestures.

The movement.

The direction they’re facing.

Those relationships elevate an otherwise ordinary scene.

Embrace Imperfection

In Ostia I photographed people along the beach.

Many of these photographs were made loosely from the hip.

I wasn’t chasing technical perfection.

I was responding instinctively.

A man’s hands.

A girl reaching into the sand.

A tilted horizon.

The movement of the body against the landscape.

Sometimes those imperfect frames carry more energy because they’re made from instinct instead of calculation.

Photograph From Every Distance

Gesture doesn’t only exist up close.

Sometimes I drop low and photograph someone walking across rocks.

Other times I step back and photograph someone playing football from far away.

The distance changes.

The gesture remains.

No matter where I stand, movement continues to be the thing I’m responding to.

Build Relationships Between Gestures

One of my favorite photographs from this series shows a young boy walking from the water while an older woman climbs slowly from the sea behind him.

The youthful energy.

The older body struggling upward.

Those two gestures create tension.

The relationship between them is what makes the photograph interesting.

That relationship also informed my decision to frame vertically.

The composition emerged because I noticed the connection between those two subjects.

Every Gesture Matters

Another photograph begins with a tattoo of Mary.

That was my first point of interest.

But I didn’t stop there.

I also paid attention to the people moving throughout the background.

A woman bending over.

People playing in the water.

Their gestures complete the photograph.

Every layer contributes to the final image.

The Street Photographer Salute

One gesture I’ve noticed over and over again is people shielding their eyes from the sun.

I call it the street photographer salute.

Whenever someone raises their hand to block the sunlight…

I’m almost always triggered to make a photograph.

It’s such a simple gesture, but it’s full of expression.

Gesture Exists Beyond People

Gesture isn’t limited to living subjects.

A sculpture.

An advertisement.

A shadow.

A blanket blowing in the wind.

They all contain movement.

They all communicate emotion.

One photograph I made in Florence focuses entirely on a sculpture.

The tension of the arms.

The gaze.

The hands covering the face.

Studying great works of art is also studying gesture.

Trust Your Instincts

Ultimately, photographing gesture is about being present.

You have to trust your instincts.

When you notice a glance…

A hand movement…

A kiss on a park bench…

Respond immediately.

Don’t overthink it.

The more aware you become of these small moments, the more naturally they’ll begin to reveal themselves.

Gesture is everywhere.

You simply have to learn to see it.

If you’d like to download and print this body of work, you can find the PDF in the description below.

You can also submit your own 36-frame Flux issue using the Flux Generator for the opportunity to have your work reviewed on the channel.

If you’d like to join the Flux community, click the Join button below to gain access to our Discord, where photographers share their work and discuss the craft together.

Thank you for reading.

Peace.

Flux Weekly Witness #15: One Morning, One Camera, One Complete Photo Story

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to Flux Weekly Witness #15, where I look at the photographs that you submit to me in the Flux community.

Today we’re looking at Miquel de Buceres’ photographs from Portugal, all made during the morning of June 28th, 2026.

If you’d like to submit photographs for review, use the link in the description to access the Flux Generator. Upload 36 photographs, I’ll print them out, and there’s a chance I’ll review them here on the YouTube channel.

A Morning by the Sea

Right away you can tell we’re in a completely different environment.

The opening spread shows the same scene photographed twice.

If I had to choose, I think the horizontal frame is stronger.

The circular shape within the composition works much better across the width of the frame, and because this body of work comes from a single morning walk, it’s natural that we’ll see a few variations of similar scenes.

Chasing the Sublime

This landscape is absolutely beautiful.

Honestly, it feels like the kind of photograph you’d frame on the wall of a beach house.

The foreground leads beautifully into the distant horizon, with soft clouds stretching across the sky.

The use of high-contrast black and white elevates everything.

The sublime is something I constantly seek in my own photography.

Looking toward the horizon…

Looking into the abyss…

This photograph reminds me to keep searching for those moments.

Elevating the Ordinary

As we move through the coastline, we begin seeing caves, cliffs, textured rock formations, and landscapes that slowly become more abstract.

The natural geometry begins taking over.

The photographer isn’t simply documenting beautiful scenery.

They’re using framing, light, shape, and composition to transform an ordinary landscape into something extraordinary.

That’s the difference.

Beautiful places exist everywhere.

The challenge is learning how to elevate them through photography.

Space to Breathe

One sequence that stood out was this pair of photographs overlooking the hillside.

I love the way the small strip of water opens up the composition and gives everything room to breathe.

You can even see distant houses resting quietly on the horizon.

Small details like that create a real sense of place.

Simplicity Wins

Later we arrive at another repeated scene overlooking the town.

Again, I think the photograph on the right is the stronger frame.

The horizon sits comfortably in the center.

The balance between the homes and the negative space feels elegant.

Sometimes a simple composition is all a photograph needs.

Small Details Matter

As the photographer continues walking through town, I find myself drawn to the small foreground details.

The flowers.

The plants stretching upward into the sky.

Those textures make otherwise simple landscapes feel much more alive.

Meeting the Fisherman

Eventually the human element enters the story.

We meet a fisherman standing along the coastline.

First, we see him candidly looking toward the water.

Then we see a direct portrait.

Together they create a beautiful diptych.

One photograph shows him working.

The other lets us meet him.

It’s a wonderful reminder that even while photographing landscapes, you can still find people whose stories become part of the place itself.

Light Creates Mood

As we continue wandering, the cloudy skies begin shaping the emotional atmosphere of the work.

High-contrast black and white transforms those clouds into something dramatic.

Simple light becomes emotion.

One of my favorite compositions is this path leading toward a small patch of light in the center of the frame.

The leading lines quietly guide your eye exactly where it needs to go.

The People Who Shape a Place

Soon we meet another person.

A farmer working the land.

Then another portrait.

Then another landscape.

One image I especially enjoyed combines this beautiful home with the tiny heart painted on the wall in the foreground.

It’s such a small detail, but it completely changes the feeling of the photograph.

What makes this body of work successful is the balance between place and people.

The landscapes establish the setting.

The portraits give it life.

Photography as Wonder

That’s ultimately what I enjoy most about photography.

Going out into the world with your camera.

Meeting people.

Looking at nature.

Walking through your own town with fresh eyes.

When you stay open to both humanity and the landscape around you, life begins to feel elevated.

Photography becomes more than documentation.

It becomes a celebration of simply being alive.

Building a Story

As we move further into the sequence, we begin meeting local workers.

Farmers.

Shopkeepers.

People preparing food.

Hands weathered by years of work.

Little by little, a larger story begins emerging.

This feels like the beginning of a long-term documentary project.

You can imagine returning here over and over again, slowly building relationships with the people who live in this community.

Openness Creates Better Photographs

One thing that’s especially clear throughout this body of work is the photographer’s openness.

People smile back.

They acknowledge the camera.

There’s trust.

That willingness to engage with strangers is something every photographer can learn from.

Photography isn’t only about landscapes.

It’s also about the people who inhabit those landscapes.

The fishermen.

The farmers.

The workers.

Together they define the place.

Three Hours Is Enough

What really amazed me was looking at the timestamps.

These photographs were made between 6:00 AM and 9:00 AM.

Just three hours.

That’s all it took to build a complete body of work.

A simple morning walk became a visual story.

I hope this reminds you that you don’t need to travel across the world or spend weeks photographing.

Sometimes all you need is a few hours, your camera, and the willingness to wander.

Final Thoughts

This is a beautiful celebration of both humanity and nature.

The landscapes are strong.

The portraits are genuine.

The sequencing creates a wonderful sense of place.

Really impressive work.

If you’d like to create your own body of work, visit the Flux Generator in the description.

Upload 36 photographs, print your own issue, submit it to me, and maybe I’ll review it here on the channel.

Thanks for watching.

I’ll see you in the next video.

Peace.

Your body IS the cathedral

Photography Makes Every Moment Meaningful

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today I’m going to share a thought.

Every moment becomes rich with meaning when practicing photography.

I tend to romanticize being a photographer.

I romanticize the act of exploring the world and making pictures, whether you’re in your hometown or walking through a city you’ve never seen before.

There really is something about this medium that fills my life with deep and lasting meaning.

The Camera Makes You Pay Attention

When you have a camera in your hand, you become hyper-aware of everything.

You’re looking at the way light reflects across surfaces.

You’re watching people move.

You’re studying gestures, patterns of behavior, birds in flight, shifting clouds, reflections on the water.

Everything becomes a story.

Everything becomes rich with meaning.

I think it’s because the camera gives you permission to simply look.

To feel.

To truly see.

When you’re walking the streets, you’re engaging reality directly.

The sounds.

The smells.

The movement.

The atmosphere.

When you experience life this way, everything feels meaningful.

Curiosity Is the Real Skill

Photography has always been guided by curiosity.

And I think curiosity is where we thrive as human beings.

When I think about curiosity, I think about children.

They’re eager to play.

They wake up excited to explore.

As adults, we slowly forget how to play.

We forget how to remain curious.

Maybe it’s the endless information online.

Maybe it’s social media.

Maybe it’s AI.

Maybe it’s simply that we feel like we’ve already seen everything.

As we grow older and accumulate knowledge, we begin believing we understand the world.

But photography reminds me that I know almost nothing.

Every day I leave the house empty.

I have no expectations.

I have no idea what I’m about to discover.

Every Walk Feels Like Day One

I can walk to Penn’s Landing every single day.

The same streets.

The same river.

The same quality of light.

Yet every walk feels completely different.

Because every experience is unrepeatable.

Novelty isn’t always about traveling somewhere new.

Sometimes novelty is simply a shift in perspective.

It’s letting go of what you think you know.

It’s returning to childlike curiosity.

That’s where enthusiasm lives.

That’s where photography becomes effortless.

Entering the Flow State

When curiosity leads the way, I naturally enter a flow state.

Time disappears.

The past no longer matters.

The future no longer matters.

Only this moment exists.

Every time I click the shutter, I feel like I’m affirming life.

Walking toward the river.

Feeling the warmth of the sun.

Watching light dance across the water.

Listening to people laughing as they pass by.

I feel like I’ve just begun.

Like it’s day one.

Photography has this incredible ability to return me to the present.

Joy Beyond Circumstances

It doesn’t matter what happened before I left the house.

Whether I felt anxious.

Angry.

Sad.

Frustrated.

Whether the weather is perfect or miserable.

Once I’m walking with a camera, so much of that disappears.

Photography becomes meditation.

Observation becomes presence.

Presence becomes joy.

And I think that’s something all of us are searching for.

Whether you’re a photographer…

A painter…

A filmmaker…

Someone who works with wood…

Or someone creating sculptures out of ice.

It doesn’t matter what the medium is.

When you’re fully immersed in what you’re doing…

When you’re outside your mind and inside your body…

That’s where we begin to thrive.

We Know Too Much and Feel Too Little

I honestly think we know too much…

And feel too little.

Photography helps me reverse that.

It allows me to feel deeply.

To become receptive.

To approach every moment with curiosity.

It’s why I’m so grateful for this medium.

Photography allows me to experience every moment as though it could be my last.

To me, that’s an incredibly powerful way to live.

Beyond the Photograph

The greatest gift photography has given me isn’t the image.

It’s the process.

It’s the meaning found in the moment before the shutter clicks.

The way the water moves.

The way light reflects.

The way strangers interact.

The rhythm of the city.

When you’re fully present inside those moments, you naturally begin finding joy.

You discover peace.

You discover clarity.

Photography becomes effortless.

Life becomes playful again.

Infinite Meaning in the Mundane

Photography gives me infinite meaning within ordinary life.

That’s why I romanticize it.

Because carrying a camera truly changes the way I experience the world.

Every walk becomes an adventure.

Every ordinary street becomes filled with possibility.

Every moment becomes rich with meaning.

If you’re another photographer watching from the other side, maybe you understand exactly what I mean.

And if you do…

Keep walking.

Stay curious.

And let the camera remind you how beautiful ordinary life really is.

Peace.

Latin pater (“father”) → patronus (“protector/patron”) → Old French patron (“model, exemplar”) → Middle English patron/pattern → modern pattern.

Originally, pattern meant something like “an example, model, or template from which something else is made.” By the 1500s, it expanded to mean a repeated decorative design, and eventually to the broader modern sense of a recurring arrangement or regularity.

So when we say “I notice a pattern,” there’s an interesting older idea underneath it: you’re recognizing the model or form that keeps reproducing itself.

And patron and pattern are historically the same word that eventually split into different meanings.

Curiosity Is the Cure to Modern-Day Boredom

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Currently walking along Race Street Pier here in Philadelphia.

Today’s thought is about curiosity—and why curiosity is the cure to modern-day boredom.

I think curiosity is found when you embrace the seemingly mundane nature of life and discover joy and meaning within it.

Learning to Notice

Look at the way the light peers through the trees.

Seriously.

Look at that.

Wow.

Isn’t that beautiful?

Look closely at the flowers.

Study their patterns.

Notice the little ant crawling across the petals.

Look at the bridge.

I mean…

How the hell did we build this thing?

Listen to the sounds around you.

The subway rushing by.

The train.

The cars.

The water moving beneath the pier.

The reflections dancing across the river.

When you become curious about life, this is where you begin to thrive.

Curiosity Comes From Within

The beautiful thing is that you don’t have to travel far to become curious.

Curiosity comes from within.

The word curiosity comes from the Latin cura, meaning to care.

So ask yourself:

What do you care about?

I care about nature.

I care about people.

I care about sunlight.

So I naturally orient my life toward those things.

I visit places where I can experience them.

I care about beauty.

I care about looking at things that inspire me.

For me, inspiration comes from the combination of nature’s beauty and humanity’s ability to build extraordinary things.

Bridges.

Cities.

Open water.

The horizon.

Whenever I look out toward the horizon, I’m reminded of how open the world really is.

How much there is still left to see.

To photograph.

To explore.

To experience.

My curiosity guides me.

I simply follow it.

Follow What You Care About

I follow what feels good.

I follow what feels right.

I think it’s important to listen to your body.

To trust your intuition.

Of course, it’s important to remain rational and avoid doing things that harm you.

But when you truly know yourself…

When you understand what brings you genuine joy…

You naturally begin moving toward those things.

And that’s where you thrive.

Not because the external world changed.

But because your relationship with the world changed.

Why I Always Carry a Camera

People ask me how to become more curious.

For me, the answer is simple.

Carry a camera.

That’s the first step.

When you have a camera with you, it forces you to pay attention.

It forces you to ask questions.

It forces you to notice.

Photography turns ordinary moments into opportunities for discovery.

Some people think cameras remove you from the present moment.

For me, it’s the opposite.

Photography pulls me deeper into the present.

It slows me down.

It makes me observe.

It teaches me to care.

Inspiration Means to Breathe In

Humanity inspires me.

Nature inspires me.

These bridges inspire me.

The trees.

The water.

The people.

The city.

The word inspire literally means to breathe into.

When I come outside and breathe fresh air…

When I stand beneath the sun…

When I simply allow myself to notice…

That’s inspiration.

You don’t always need external motivation.

Sometimes all you need is fresh air.

Sunlight on your skin.

Open eyes.

And a willingness to pay attention.

Thrive, Don’t Just Survive

I don’t want to simply survive life.

I want to thrive.

And I think thriving requires curiosity.

It requires experimentation.

Trying new things.

Exploring.

Tinkering.

Changing.

Following your intuition.

Curiosity demands growth.

It asks you to evolve.

I honestly believe that change is happiness.

To remain in motion.

To remain in flux.

That’s where joy is found.

You can’t stay curious if you’re repeating the exact same experience every day without opening yourself to possibility.

Even ordinary moments become extraordinary when you approach them with fresh eyes.

The Photographer’s Responsibility

As photographers, this is one of the few things completely within our control.

We’re not in control of whether the world presents us with an incredible photograph.

We’re not in control of whether something dramatic happens.

But we are in control of our curiosity.

We’re in control of how we choose to see.

What’s outside your control is whether life appears interesting.

What’s inside your control is whether you remain interested.

If your perspective stays imaginative…

Creative…

Childlike…

Then you can thrive regardless of your circumstances.

Just Follow the Light

Curiosity comes from inside.

Inside your mind.

Inside your heart.

Protect it.

Nurture it.

Follow what you care about.

Because curiosity isn’t something you find.

It’s something you cultivate.

That’s the thought of the day.

Flux TV signing out, baby.

Just follow the light.

Peace.

Flux Archive 005 — Follow the Light

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to Flux Archive #5, where I look at some of the photographs I’ve made throughout the past few years. Today we’re looking at a body of work from 2023, and I want to share some of the things I’ve learned along my journey of practicing black and white photography.

Light Becomes the Subject

One of the most impactful realizations I’ve had is that light becomes the subject.

I love focusing on light because I’m no longer dependent on the content of the frame to elevate a photograph. The simple way light falls upon a person can transform an ordinary moment into something transcendental.

By shooting in high-contrast black and white, exposing for the highlights and crushing the shadows, abstraction becomes a solution to finding meaning in the mundane.

Since adopting this workflow, I’ve found much more joy and possibility in my photography.

I can stand in the tunnels beneath City Hall and simply watch the way light falls across someone’s face, or notice the glint of a necklace catching the light, and suddenly those small details become worth photographing.

I’m no longer waiting for extraordinary events to happen.

Simple gestures.

Light.

Shadow.

These things create mystery and elevate the ordinary into something extraordinary.

Follow the Light

Light is my subject.

By following the light, I find infinite ways to photograph.

The light is always changing. Whether it’s beautiful golden light illuminating a portrait of my mother or the soft overcast light falling across workers on the street, there’s always something new to observe.

When you strip away the complexity of photography and focus on light, shape, and form, the details become much more prominent.

A person’s back covered in scratches and scars.

A silhouette emerging from darkness.

Simple scenes suddenly become mysterious because black and white abstracts reality.

That’s what keeps photography exciting for me.

Curiosity Changes Everything

When I photograph something, I’m curious about how life will look once it’s interpreted through the camera.

How will the light travel through the lens?

How will the sensor translate the world?

That curiosity keeps me practicing.

A friend smoking a cigarette could seem completely mundane.

But when I’m curious about what light will do to that scene, I make the photograph anyway.

The same goes for a fire hydrant exploding beside a Mr. Softy truck.

These ordinary situations become exciting again because I’m no longer photographing the object itself.

I’m photographing the way light transforms it.

Photography keeps me curious about life.

That’s one of the things I’m most grateful for.

The World Is Your Canvas

I think about the world as my canvas.

The camera is simply my brush.

Everything around me becomes material.

Footprints pressed into concrete.

Repetitive architectural patterns.

Windows.

Textures.

I’m looking beneath my feet.

I’m looking above my head.

Everything around me becomes fascinating.

Learning the Vertical Frame

Lately I’ve been making many more vertical photographs with the Ricoh GR.

One simple technique I’ve found is holding the camera with my middle finger on the shutter and my thumb supporting the camera underneath.

This lets me rotate into a vertical composition naturally without awkwardly twisting my wrist.

Sometimes a horizontal frame is the right decision.

Other times a vertical frame simplifies the photograph.

A single figure.

A gesture.

A tattoo on someone’s arm.

Vertical compositions often remove unnecessary distractions and strengthen the subject.

The Ricoh makes this transition feel effortless, and it’s opened up new compositional possibilities for me.

Experiment More

These photographs from Rome reminded me how important experimentation is.

Sometimes I’m photographing gestures at the Trevi Fountain.

Other times I’m stepping far away from my subjects instead of working close.

I’m photographing architecture.

Landscapes.

Textures.

Posters.

Macro details.

Removing the viewfinder from the equation encourages me to move the camera freely.

I can extend my arm, get close to a surface, photograph textures, and experiment with perspectives that wouldn’t feel natural using a traditional viewfinder camera.

I encourage you to play more.

Don’t lock yourself into one way of seeing.

Layering From Back to Front

The final photograph in this collection was made at the Colosseum.

I wanted to make a photograph that felt layered, but layering doesn’t mean adding more complexity.

It’s often about removing distractions so the important elements become stronger.

For this photograph, I first chose the Colosseum as my anchor.

Then I noticed the striking shadow stretching across the promenade.

I returned to this location multiple times because I knew the light was strongest around midday and there was consistent foot traffic.

I framed the Colosseum first.

Then I waited for the shadow to organize the middle of the frame.

Finally, I waited for a woman to walk into the foreground and complete the composition.

Many of my favorite layered photographs are built from back to front.

The background becomes the first decision.

The midground becomes the second.

The foreground becomes the final piece of the puzzle.

That’s how this photograph came together.

Keep Following the Light

The more I practice, the more I realize photography doesn’t have to be complicated.

Follow the light.

Stay curious.

Experiment.

Everything around you has the potential to become a meaningful photograph.

If you enjoyed this body of work, you can download and print the Flux Archive 005 PDF using the link in the description.

You can also submit 36 photographs through the Flux Generator for the opportunity to have your work reviewed in a future Flux Weekly Witness episode.

If you’d like to join the Flux community, click the Join button on the YouTube channel to gain access to the Discord.

Thank you for reading.

Peace.

Ricoh GR IV Monochrome Street Photography at Philadelphia’s Southeast Asian Market

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Currently at the Southeast Asian Market here in FDR Park in Philadelphia, photographing with the Ricoh GR IV Monochrome today.

Gonna be doing some street photography and just take you along on this little journey here through the park.

So yeah, follow along and let’s hit the market.

Meat on a Stick

Check out the meat on a stick. They got meat on a stick. Oh my goodness!

Yeah, could I have two beef sticks?

When I was in Hanoi, Vietnam, every night I would just eat beef sticks. That’s what I would do. They have street food around the lake. I would just get beef sticks all the time and just munch on those.

Have a good one. Cheers.

Yeah, check it out. The beef stick.

Oh, it’s so good.

Look for the Gestures

Little gesture.

Look for the gestures. Every time I see hands, I photograph them.

I don’t know. Every time I see hands, I photograph them.

But gotta eat my meat, you know.

Lots of photography being done today. Everyone’s just waiting.

Macro Mode and 50mm Crop

Yeah, so we’re just sitting here by this beautiful bench with this view of the lake, and a little butterfly landed on our hands.

I’ve been photographing with the crop mode at 50mm using macro mode on the Ricoh, and I get extremely close and make these kind of surreal, abstract pictures of the insect.

I think one of the most powerful things about the Ricoh is the use of the macro mode combined with crop mode.

So I go from 28mm to 50mm to get extremely close details of insects.

There’s just a power in noticing these small details, slowing down, and then focusing on those details with the macro function.

Just click the up button on the D-pad.

Experimenting With the Sony Handycam

I’ve recently been experimenting with video using this old-school Sony Handycam.

What I really like about it is that I can get extremely close with the zoom.

I enjoy photographing people, so when I do video, I like filming people. And it’s interesting to see the moments that I usually capture with a still image, but as a moving image.

It’s something I’ve been experimenting with.

I think it might be the 20x optical zoom, honestly. But whatever it is, you can get extremely close.

It’s got a Carl Zeiss lens, so it’s sharp, but it shoots in 480p.

But yeah, look, I can even get B-roll footage—or just footage in general—of the people watching and film the gestures and the facial expressions.

Handycam in the bag.

Remember to Look Up

Yeah, so another thing is when I’m photographing, I’m not only just looking at the people or the gestures or the textures.

You can look up and photograph the beautiful sky and the clouds.

I also use the red filter so that I can add more drama and contrast to the sky. The Ricoh Monochrome is really good for that.

I’m even cropping into 50mm.

I love looking at the macro details—insects, textures, people, everything on the ground level.

But I always remind myself to look up because there’s so much beauty above.

Flux Weekly Witness #14: Stop Thinking About Composition

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to Flux Weekly Witness #14, where I look at the photographs that you submit to me in the Flux community.

Today we’re looking at Yakuno Kalvinzal, whose photographs were made throughout Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany between March and June 2026.

I love the description they included with the work:

“Stop thinking about composition and press the damn shutter, my brothers and sisters. Much love goes out to all of y’all.”

I love that.

If you’d like to make a body of work like this yourself, click the link in the description to create your own Flux Issue. Build a zine from 36 photographs and submit it directly to me for review.

Letting Go

Right away we have this opening frame where the photographer appears in the background walking perfectly alongside the sidewalk.

It’s a playful introduction.

Considering the description, I’m curious how this idea of letting go and trusting instinct plays out throughout the rest of the work.

You can already see moments where there is some compositional awareness—using poles, gestures, and framing—but there are also photographs where everything becomes much more chaotic.

The blur.

The awkward placement of the subject.

The spontaneous framing.

You can feel someone responding instinctively rather than trying to construct a perfect composition.

Mystery Wins

These next two photographs immediately grabbed my attention.

The frame on the left is incredibly mysterious.

There’s a barefoot leg.

Someone bent over.

A milk carton.

And then, hidden in the background, what appears to be the shadow of a cat cast against the truck.

I absolutely love this photograph.

It’s strange.

It’s ambiguous.

It asks questions instead of answering them.

Beside it we have a beautiful photograph of cherry blossoms.

I always enjoy seeing nature mixed into bodies of street photography.

You don’t have to photograph only people.

When something beautiful pulls your attention, photograph it.

Preserve that beauty.

Looking From the Ground

This centered composition of the broken skateboard immediately caught my eye.

There’s something funny about it.

The worn skateboard.

The Velcro shoes.

Even the tree appearing to grow from the chimney creates this strange visual illusion.

Whether intentional or accidental, those spontaneous alignments are often what make photographs memorable.

Energy Through Movement

The skateboarding photographs have so much energy.

Fisheye perspective.

Fast movement.

Loose framing.

People gesturing.

Tricks happening mid-frame.

Everything feels immediate.

You can tell these weren’t overthought.

They were simply lived.

A Childlike Perspective

One of my favorite photographs in the entire body of work is this low-angle image looking through the fence with the dandelion in the foreground.

The fallen fence.

The clouds.

The sky.

It almost feels like seeing the world from the perspective of a child crawling through the grass.

I honestly don’t even know why this image resonates with me so much.

It just does.

Sometimes that’s enough.

Photography isn’t always logical.

Sometimes instinct is the explanation.

Adventure

Then we have someone climbing this tower.

I love this frame.

You immediately feel the sense of exploration.

Maybe they were simply out skateboarding with friends.

Maybe they wandered into this forgotten place.

Either way, you feel that adventurous spirit throughout these photographs.

There’s something really beautiful about documenting the quieter outskirts of a town instead of only busy city streets.

Quiet Observations

As we continue, we move between roadside moments, weeds growing around infrastructure, food stops, movement from inside the car, and flashes of everyday life.

Then we arrive at another really interesting pairing.

Earlier we saw the mysterious leg.

Now we have another close-up of exposed skin paired with this isolated bubble.

These photographs begin speaking to one another.

There are several images throughout this body of work that really stay with me.

The flower.

The bubble.

The mysterious shadow.

Those photographs linger.

Gestures Matter

This photograph of several hands petting what looks like a sheep is wonderful.

Two children’s hands.

One older hand.

Three completely different gestures coming together in one frame.

It’s quiet.

Simple.

But emotionally rich.

The same thing happens with the photograph of someone gently holding a tiny baby bird.

These aren’t dramatic moments.

They’re subtle.

And that’s exactly why they’re powerful.

The emotional energy comes from paying attention to the smallest gestures.

Everyday Tension

There are flowers.

Farmland.

Quiet rural landscapes.

Then suddenly we arrive at this photograph of a man underneath a train.

Immediately there’s tension.

You instinctively wonder what’s happening.

Nearby we return to another blurred black cat framed against flowers.

Again, that spontaneous energy keeps showing itself throughout the work.

Learning to Let Go

The tilted street scenes.

The umbrellas.

The awkward framing.

The unusual negative space.

Everything supports the photographer’s original statement.

Stop overthinking.

Press the shutter.

Trust your instincts.

That philosophy runs through the entire body of work.

Finding Beauty Everywhere

An empty bench becomes interesting because of graffiti and flowers.

An ordinary piece of street infrastructure suddenly feels like an art installation.

Bubbles drift through the frame while a man searches through his bag.

A parent carries a child home.

These quiet observations build the rhythm of the project.

Final Thoughts

We finish with a wonderful closing frame.

A police car passes by.

An officer stands below.

Above, a crowd of onlookers watches from the windows.

It’s a strong ending.

Overall, I found this body of work genuinely exciting.

There are several photographs here that I’ll remember.

Especially that mysterious frame with the cat’s shadow, the barefoot leg, and the milk carton.

Beautiful.

Weird.

Exactly the kind of photograph that stays with you.

Thank you for submitting your work.

If you’d like to submit your own photographs for review, click Create Flux Issue in the description below.

You can upload your own 36-frame body of work and maybe I’ll review it here on the channel.

Thanks for watching.

I’ll see you in the next video.

Peace.

The Truth About Candid Street Photography (Be a Human First, Photographer Second)

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Currently, I’m walking around Philadelphia, and today I wanted to share some thoughts about the candid nature of street photography.

I think street photography has everything to do with how you engage with humanity.

Your personality is on display through the frames that you make.

If you’re shy and reserved, using a zoom lens and photographing people from across the street, those qualities remain in your photography. You’re making candid photographs, but they’re often more about geometry, light, and form than genuine engagement with people.

Maybe that’s simply who you are.

Then there’s the documentary photographer.

They’re seeking to go deeper. They embed themselves within communities. They aren’t afraid of conversation, confrontation, or connection.

I’ve realized over the years that this is the approach I’ve naturally gravitated toward.

It isn’t about abandoning candid photography.

It’s about expanding what candid photography can be.

Learning to Be Human First

The first time I picked up a camera and practiced street photography was here in Philadelphia over a decade ago.

Later, when I moved to Baltimore, I realized I had to learn an entirely different way to play the game.

Walking through neighborhoods like Sandtown-Winchester, I couldn’t simply wander around making candid photographs the same way I would in Center City Philadelphia.

That approach wouldn’t work.

It forced me to learn something much more valuable.

Be a human first. Be a photographer second.

That’s the shift.

Many photographers work in cities like Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles where crowds allow anonymity. You can simply walk, observe, and quietly make photographs.

But if you’re in a small town…

If you’re somewhere people immediately notice you…

You have to engage first.

Photography comes afterward.

Becoming Part of the Scene

For me, that meant returning to the same places repeatedly.

I’d stand near bus stops.

I’d talk to people.

Eventually I became a familiar face.

Trust slowly developed.

People began recognizing me.

I’d explain that I was learning photography and that I was simply curious about the neighborhood.

Eventually I asked permission to make portraits.

Then something interesting happened.

Once people trusted me…

I could begin making candid photographs naturally.

When you know how to engage with people, eventually you become a fly on the wall.

Street Photography Is More Nuanced Than People Think

Too many people think candid photography has rigid rules.

That you must make photographs without people noticing.

That interaction somehow invalidates the work.

I don’t believe that’s true.

If you travel around the world simply running around making “gotcha” photographs, you’ll only get so far.

More importantly…

I don’t think the work becomes very interesting.

Instead…

Make your presence known.

Smile.

Say hello.

Acknowledge strangers.

Be open.

When you engage with humanity first, something changes.

You gain more time.

More trust.

More freedom to compose.

Better timing.

Most importantly…

You gain emotional proximity.

Not just physical closeness.

That emotional closeness creates more complexity within the frame.

Photography Opened the World to Me

Traveling throughout Israel and Palestine…

Zambia…

The villages and slums of Mumbai…

I’ve realized the camera isn’t just a camera.

It’s a passport.

It’s a key.

Photography has opened doors for me that otherwise would’ve remained closed.

I’ve been invited into churches.

Mosques.

Synagogues.

People’s homes.

I’ve shared coffee.

Tea.

Meals.

I’ve climbed mountains with strangers.

Photography became a byproduct of living openly.

Treat photography as a byproduct of your experience as a human being.

A Lesson From Israel

I’ll never forget arriving in Israel in 2017 while studying abroad in Jerusalem.

One of the first places I visited was the road between Jerusalem and Jericho.

There was almost nobody around.

Just one farmer.

Two boys.

A herd of goats.

I didn’t speak Arabic.

I barely knew how to communicate.

But I approached them with openness.

I smiled.

I said Salaam Alaikum.

Then I pulled out an Instax camera.

I made a portrait of the farmer.

I handed him the print.

The boys immediately ran toward me wanting photographs too.

Those little prints became gifts.

From that moment…

Everything changed.

The camera became more than something that takes.

It became something that gives.

From there I was invited into homes.

People offered to show me their neighborhoods.

And throughout those experiences…

I continued making candid photographs naturally.

Bring an Instax Camera

If you’re traveling…

Bring an Instax camera.

Gift photographs to strangers.

Watch how stories begin unfolding around you.

That one small decision changes the entire dynamic.

It helps overcome fear.

It builds trust.

It allows you to get physically and emotionally closer to people.

And suddenly…

Photographs you never thought were possible become possible.

Beyond Sidewalk Surfing

I joke sometimes that many photographers simply go sidewalk surfing.

Ricoh in the pocket.

See a moment.

Pull it out.

Click.

Keep walking.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.

But I believe the strongest street photography often happens when you’re immersed inside an experience.

Not simply passing through it.

That requires time.

Consistency.

Returning again and again.

The technical aspects of photography—composition, light, timing—matter.

Of course they do.

But I honestly think the hardest obstacle photographers face isn’t technical.

It’s overcoming the fear of engaging with another human being.

There Are No Rules

Don’t let the internet convince you there’s only one correct way to make street photography.

There isn’t.

There are no absolute rules.

Play the game your own way.

We’re all different people.

With different personalities.

Different experiences.

Different ways of connecting with the world.

Street photography is simply an open-world exploration.

All you need is a camera.

A good pair of shoes.

And somewhere to wander.

Turn left.

Turn right.

Walk toward the bridge.

Explore Old City.

Follow your curiosity.

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

When you’re open to possibility…

You’re open to better photographs.

But even more importantly…

You’re open to a richer life.

Photography becomes filled with purpose and meaning far beyond making a great picture.

That’s what candid street photography has given me.

And hopefully these thoughts encourage you to go explore your own town…

Meet people…

Have experiences…

Bring your camera…

And allow photography to become a natural extension of living fully.

Peace.