FLUX AI Selection Pipeline

Phase 1 — Build the Training Dataset

Folder Structure

PHILLY_IN_FLUX/

├── market-st/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── germantown-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── frankford-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── washington-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── ridge-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── passyunk-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── lancaster-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── walnut-st/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

│

├── girard-ave/

│   ├── originals/

│   └── selected/

Goal

For every project:

• originals = every photograph shot (~1000)
• selected = photographs accepted into archive (~150)

Nothing else.

This is your ground truth.

Phase 2 — Generate Labels

Create a script that scans both folders.

Output:

filename,label

IMG_0001.JPG,0

IMG_0002.JPG,1

IMG_0003.JPG,0

Where:

• 1 = archive selection
• 0 = rejected

Goal:

10,000 originals

1,500 selected

Phase 3 — Enrich Metadata

For every image:

Extract:

• EXIF
• GPS
• Timestamp
• Camera settings

Store:

{

  “filename”: “…”,

  “selected”: true,

  “gps”: “…”,

  “timestamp”: “…”,

  “camera”: “…”,

  “metadata”: {…}

}

Phase 4 — Generate AI Vision Descriptions

Run every image through a vision model.

Generate tags such as:

rowhouse

storefront

church

window

doorway

vacant lot

crosswalk

pedestrian

fence

graffiti

utility pole

Store alongside metadata.

This creates future archive search capability.

Phase 5 — Train FLUX Selector

Input:

Image

+

Metadata

Output:

Archive Probability

Example:

IMG_1234.JPG → 0.98

IMG_1235.JPG → 0.91

IMG_1236.JPG → 0.03

The model learns your archive threshold.

Not your best photograph.

Your keep/reject decision.

Phase 6 — Automated Ingest

Future workflow:

Walk Street

↓

Shoot 1000 Photos

↓

Insert SD Card

↓

Import to FLUX

↓

Metadata Extraction

↓

Vision Analysis

↓

Selection Model Runs

↓

Top 150 Chosen

↓

Project Created

↓

Map Generated

↓

Statistics Generated

↓

Archive Ready

Human review:

150 images

↓

Approve

↓

Publish

No more manually reviewing 1000 photographs.

Immediate Next Action

Do not train AI yet.

Do not build the ingest system yet.

First build:

10 Projects

↓

Originals Folder

↓

Selected Folder

↓

Labels CSV

Once that dataset exists, Claude can build everything else from it.

bring on the renaissance baby!

The Philosophy of Flux: Walking One Street and Finding Infinite Photographs

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Currently walking down Girard Avenue all the way from West Philly into the city.

Today’s thought is about the philosophy of Flux and how this new project of making pictures of individual streets in the city is transforming the way I think about photography.

A few weeks ago, I did a project with a local photographer who proposed that we walk the entirety of Broad Street and GPS-tag each photograph. During that walk, we both moved through the same space, on the same day, under the same constraint:

• One street
• One direction
• Black and white photography

Despite photographing the same place, we came home with completely different frames.

And that’s the whole philosophy of Flux.

You Cannot Make the Same Photograph Twice

Flux is about change.

The same street can be photographed endlessly and you’ll come home with an infinite number of photographs because the world is always changing.

The light changes.

The weather changes.

The people change.

You change.

Light is constantly etching shape and form onto the world around us, and it’s always in motion. It’s always in flux.

And it’s completely out of our control.

Returning Photography to Its Essence

My thought about black and white photography is that it allows us to return to the essence of the medium itself:

Light.

Phos means light.
Graphé means writing or drawing.

Photography is literally drawing with light.

By stripping away color and complexity and reducing everything to light and shadow, I find infinite novelty.

Black and white photography with the contrast cranked all the way up becomes a tool for abstraction.

The limitations create freedom.

And through those limitations, I find an infinite number of ways to create.

Constraints Create Freedom

Flux is about giving myself the ability to return to photography every day through embracing change.

I’m photographing mundane structures.

Ordinary streets.

Discarded signs.

Phone booths that are disappearing.

Things that seem insignificant.

You could argue:

“What I see is what I get.”

But what interests me is often what I didn’t see.

When I crush the shadows and expose for the highlights, reality begins to transform.

Black and white photography can go beyond reality.

It can reveal something unexpected.

And that surprise fuels me creatively.

Photography as Life Affirmation

As I photograph these fragments of the city, I remind myself that everything is impermanent.

Everything disappears.

Everything changes.

Everything is in flux.

Photography becomes an act of affirmation.

An act of saying yes.

Every photograph is me saying yes to life.

I’m not merely photographing the world.

I’m affirming my existence within it.

The click of the shutter becomes proof that I was here.

That I witnessed this.

That I felt this.

That I experienced this.

Eliminating Decision Fatigue

With the constraint of walking one street, I eliminate countless decisions.

I don’t ask:

• Should I go left or right?
• Should I shoot color or black and white?
• Should I explore this way or that way?

I simply orient myself down one street and walk.

One path.

One direction.

One goal.

By removing complexity, I enter flow.

And flow is the ultimate aim.

Photography as a Way of Being

Photography isn’t just about making pictures.

Photography is a way of being.

A way of engaging with the world.

A way of noticing.

A way of feeling.

A way of experiencing life fully.

This systematic approach of imposing constraints isn’t about restriction.

It’s about returning to instinct.

Returning to the body.

Returning to direct experience.

When I photograph this way, I’m not thinking.

I’m responding.

I’m shooting.

I’m doing.

Style Emerges Through Instinct

I don’t believe style comes from aesthetic decisions.

I don’t think style comes from choosing color or black and white.

Style emerges through consistency of instinct.

The more you walk:

• The more you see.
• The more you photograph.
• The more your curiosity develops.
• The stronger your instinct becomes.

Eventually photography becomes automatic.

Effortless.

And that’s what I seek.

Time, Mortality, and Metadata

As I move through the city, every photograph contains GPS coordinates.

A timestamp.

A date.

A location.

These pieces of metadata become evidence.

Proof.

A record that I existed at a specific point in space and time.

And in some strange way, photography becomes my response to mortality.

We can’t live forever.

But we can make a photograph.

If I treat every frame as though it could be my last, then every frame becomes meaningful.

Not because it’s a great image.

But because it says:

I was here.

The Photograph Is Not the Point

I’m not particularly concerned with whether an image is great.

The photograph itself isn’t really the point.

The point is curiosity.

The point is engagement.

The point is experience.

The photograph is merely a byproduct.

A residue left behind from living fully.

My philosophy has very little to do with photography.

It has everything to do with how you engage with life.

Twelve Years Without Missing a Day

I’ve stripped away enough complexity that photography has become sustainable.

I haven’t missed a day of photography in over twelve years.

Because of that:

• Every day feels meaningful.
• Every day feels adventurous.
• Every day feels rich.

The photographs are simply evidence of that experience.

Flow Is the Goal

The process matters more than the outcome.

Finding flow is the goal.

And this project of walking one street at a time has become the purest expression of that idea.

I enjoy wandering.

I enjoy exploration.

But this constraint has made me even more focused.

More immersed.

More present.

Time disappears.

And that disappearance of time is exactly what Flux is about.

Books, Maps, and Ephemeral Artifacts

Every day I make a physical book.

I print the photographs on cheap monochrome LaserJet printer paper.

I organize the images through GPS maps and digital archives.

The result isn’t precious.

It’s imperfect.

Temporary.

Ephemeral.

And that’s exactly why I love it.

Cheap printer paper.

Bureaucratic aesthetics.

Manila folders.

Fragments of reality.

All revealing an unexpected poetry hidden within the streets.

These aren’t masterpieces.

They’re simply artifacts of experience.

Small reminders that I lived this day.

Living in Flux

Today is June 9th, 2026.

I think of photography and video-making as visual notes.

Audio notes.

Ways of exploring my own thoughts.

Honestly, sharing this work online is a little selfish.

It’s a way for me to process experience.

A way to document my journey.

A way to think out loud.

If others find value in it, I’m grateful.

But ultimately this is what it looks like to step into the stream of becoming.

To embrace change.

To embrace impermanence.

To embrace life.

To exist purely in flux.

And so I’ll keep walking.

I’ll keep shooting.

And I’ll keep saying yes.

GIRARD AVE IN FLUX

VIEW GIRARD AVE IN FLUX →

This documentation follows Girard Avenue across Philadelphia for 6.9 miles (11.17 km), capturing 147 monochrome photographs over 3 hours and 5 minutes. The route traverses multiple neighborhoods including West Philadelphia, Overbrook, Carroll Park, Brewerytown, Northern Liberties, and Fishtown.

All photographs were created using a RICOH GR IV Monochrome camera and contain precise geographic coordinates documenting their position along the corridor. The walk was completed on June 9, 2026 as part of the ongoing Philadelphia in FLUX project.

---

PHOTOGRAPHS
147

GEOTAGGED
147 (100%)

DURATION
3h 5m

ROUTE DISTANCE
6.9 mi

DATE
2026-06-09

Treat Photography Like a Video Game

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today’s thought is about treating photography like a video game.

I’ve been working on a project called Philly in Flux, where I document different streets in Philadelphia, geotag the work, and create a living map of the city.

If you’ve ever played open-world games like Skyrim or Fallout, you know how satisfying it is to uncover new locations, unlock fast travel points, and slowly reveal the map. That’s exactly how I’ve started thinking about photography.

As I walk the streets, I’m not thinking about photography first.

I’m thinking about exploration.

The maps on my website let me retrace the steps I’ve walked and revisit the exact places where I made particular photographs. Every walk becomes a quest. Every street becomes unexplored territory.

Photography Is Exploration

The idea is simple:

Think less about the outcome of the photographs.

Think more about the act of exploration.

There is always new terrain to discover.

There are always new people to meet.

There are always new stories unfolding right outside your door.

Photography has far more to do with how you engage with humanity than it does with technical perfection.

Most of the photographs I’ve made over the years didn’t come from my ability to frame things.

They came from curiosity.

They came from courage.

They came from following that adventurous spirit into places I hadn’t been before.

The best photographs often come from curiosity rather than composition.

Simplicity Creates Impact

When it comes to framing a photograph, I think it’s mostly about subtraction.

Removing things.

Simplifying.

The more you remove from the frame, the more impact the photograph can have.

So when you’re out photographing, ask yourself:

How can I remove more?

How can I simplify?

That’s always been my approach to making photographs in the street.

The Archive Becomes the Artwork

These days I’m thinking about photography as a way to map space and time.

The archive itself is becoming the artwork.

Every day I update a digital map with new walks.

Every day I create a physical book from the photographs.

Yesterday’s walk became an issue called Walnut Street in Flux.

Seeing the map update and flipping through a physical book at the end of the day feels incredibly rewarding.

It’s like completing a side quest.

The work doesn’t need to be extraordinary.

It simply needs to document the changing city.

Become the Archivist of Your Town

When you’re out photographing, think about becoming the archivist of your town.

Preserve space.

Preserve time.

Preserve change.

I’ve been approaching this very systematically.

I pick a start point.

I pick an end point.

Then I walk one street and photograph whatever I find.

That’s it.

The system removes almost every decision from the process.

The only goal becomes movement.

And once you start moving, flow state arrives naturally.

Photograph Everything

When I’m walking, I’m not looking for one great frame.

I’m photographing everything.

• Architecture
• Infrastructure
• Textures
• Sidewalks
• Buildings
• Small details
• People when they appear

Even though many of the final photographs don’t contain people, I’m always open to interaction.

Recently while walking Ridge Avenue, I met the owner of the oldest house on the street.

He invited me inside.

I made photographs.

I learned something.

Those unexpected moments are often the most rewarding part of the process.

Lighting Up the Map

Treating photography like a video game creates a sense of progression.

At the end of the day you can see:

• New territory explored
• New photographs made
• Miles walked
• Time invested
• Stories collected

The map lights up.

The archive grows.

The project advances.

And that feeling is deeply fulfilling.

The Impossible Goal

One thing that excites me is how impossible the project feels.

If I wanted to archive every street in Philadelphia, it could take years.

Hundreds of days.

Thousands of miles.

Maybe even longer.

And that’s exactly why it’s exciting.

Working toward something that feels almost impossible gives purpose to the process.

Every day becomes one step closer.

One more quest completed.

One more section of the map uncovered.

Eventually, maybe you’ll beat the final boss.

You Don’t Need to Travel Far

One of the biggest misconceptions in photography is that you need to travel somewhere special.

You don’t.

You simply need to walk.

Step outside.

Take a train.

Take a bus.

Visit a neighborhood you’ve never explored.

Novelty is often much closer than we think.

The whole project is designed to remove as many decisions as possible:

• One camera
• One workflow
• One street
• One walk

That’s it.

Everything else disappears.

Structure Creates Freedom

The more structure I create, the more photographs I make.

Having a clear endpoint changes everything.

I know where I’m walking.

I know when the walk ends.

I know the photographs will become both a physical and digital artifact.

That clarity gives me a heightened awareness of the present moment.

I’m not hunting for something specific.

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

Building Systems Instead of Projects

Lately I’ve been building tools around this process.

I created:

• A geotag catalog
• A walk submission system
• A Flux Wiki
• A City in Flux starter kit

The goal is to remove technical friction.

I want anyone to be able to launch their own archive project.

You download the starter kit.

You open it with Claude Code.

You answer a few questions.

And the system helps you build your own city archive.

I’m still testing everything, but the philosophy remains the same:

Remove friction. Increase participation. Simplify the process.

The Beauty of Imperfection

One thing I’ve fallen in love with is printing photographs on cheap computer paper.

Nothing fancy.

Just a LaserJet printer and ordinary paper.

The photographs are soft.

Imperfect.

Sometimes the pages rip.

Sometimes the staples show.

And somehow that feels right.

The imperfections feel honest because life itself is imperfect.

The physical objects exist in flux just like the city does.

They’re temporary.

Fragile.

Disposable.

Yet meaningful.

Everything Is in Flux

The deeper idea behind all of this is simple.

Everything changes.

Every street.

Every building.

Every photograph.

Every person.

Including you.

Photography allows us to preserve those moments before they disappear.

Every image becomes a timestamp.

A record of what existed in a particular place at a particular moment.

Five years from now, those streets will look different.

The photographs you make will look different.

You will be different.

That’s why documenting change feels so important.

Photography as Life Affirmation

Ultimately, I use photography as a form of life affirmation.

It’s my way of saying yes to life.

Every photograph is an acknowledgment that I was here.

That this moment mattered.

That this place existed.

That this person existed.

We’re all moving toward the same inevitable ending.

Photography doesn’t stop that.

But it allows us to engage more deeply with the time we have.

It encourages us to notice.

To appreciate.

To participate.

To explore.

To preserve.

And that’s what I find most fulfilling about photography right now.

Not making masterpieces.

Not chasing perfection.

Simply creating an archive of the city and honoring the fleeting nature of life.

Everything is in flux.

And that’s exactly what makes it beautiful.

Thanks for watching.

Peace.

WALNUT_STREET_IN_FLUX

VIEW WALNUT STREET IN FLUX →

Walnut Street is documented from West Philadelphia to Washington Square West over a distance of 5.5 miles. The walk traverses Spruce Hill, University City, Rittenhouse Square, and Center City, recording the corridor’s storefronts, pedestrians, infrastructure, and everyday street life during a June afternoon.

A total of 154 monochrome photographs are captured using a RICOH GR IV. Every image contains precise geographic coordinates, producing a complete geotagged record of the route. While centered on Walnut Street, the project also documents intersecting spaces and adjacent blocks—including Pennsylvania Avenue, Garden Court, and other cross streets encountered along the corridor—revealing the broader urban fabric connected to the avenue.

PHOTOGRAPHS

154

GEOTAGGED

154 (100%)

DURATION

2h 33m

ROUTE DISTANCE

5.5 mi

DATE

2026-06-08

Creative Constraints Made Me a Better Street Photographer

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Today I want to talk about creative constraints and how creative constraints can enhance your photography.

Lately, I’ve been practicing photography in a very systematic way. I’ve been walking one street each day and photographing whatever I find along the way. Every walk becomes a physical book, a digital archive entry, and part of a larger project documenting my city.

As you can see, I have a map where I can access individual projects and walks that are timestamped with GPS coordinates embedded directly into the camera files.

And this project is giving me so much possibility with photography.

Eliminate Decisions, Start Seeing

What happens when you eliminate decisions?

When you eliminate the choice of whether to go left or right…

Whether to use this camera or that lens…

Black and white or color…

Whether this subject is worth photographing or not…

You start to actually do.

At this point, with this practice of choosing a start point and an endpoint, my only goal is to walk.

And the more you walk, the more you see.

The more you see, the more you photograph.

The more you photograph, the more curious you become.

And it’s that curiosity that guides me.

I don’t want to be someone who can only photograph when there’s a guaranteed scene, event, or story waiting for me. I want to be able to photograph anywhere.

This project is about documenting space and time.

It’s about creating an archive of the walk, of the city, of the street.

Not about making something visually great.

Not about making something emotionally impactful.

It’s simply about timestamping space and time.

Coordinating everything on a map.

Creating something physical at the end of the day.

Uploading everything to a website.

Having an Endpoint Changes Everything

When you have an endpoint…

When you have a project you’re working toward…

When you have something tangible you’re producing…

It changes the way you work.

Whether it’s a book or a page on your website, having that destination keeps you laser-focused in the moment.

A lot of photographers become attached to outcomes.

They only press the shutter when something feels important enough.

But what if you let go of that attachment?

What if you simply remained curious about whatever is in front of you?

What if fulfillment comes from the process itself?

When you let go of attachment to making something interesting, you become interested in everything.

Curiosity Reveals the Story

A few days ago I was walking down Ridge Avenue in Philadelphia, near where I grew up.

One of the neighbors stopped me and invited me into his home.

Inside, he showed me the oldest house on the street.

I made photographs.

I learned about the history of the neighborhood.

I photographed artifacts that dated back centuries.

None of that happened because I went looking for a story.

It happened because I was walking.

Because I was curious.

Because I was receptive.

Because I stayed within the creative constraint.

The story revealed itself.

And for me, that’s what photography is all about.

It’s about embracing the practice with play.

Not trying to force meaning.

Allowing meaning to emerge through disciplined observation.

The Power of Technical Constraints

The creative constraints extend into the camera itself.

I’m shooting:

• JPEG only
• Small JPEGs
• High contrast settings
• Automatic exposure
• LCD only
• No post-processing

I simply point and shoot.

I even have crop mode assigned to a custom button.

If I see something across the street:

Boom.

Boom.

Two button presses and I’m there.

It’s funny because I used to be completely against cropping in-camera.

But now it’s helping me work faster and more instinctively.

And despite all of these limitations, something unexpected happens.

The restrictions create freedom.

Creative Limitations Create Creative Liberation

Because I’m not thinking about settings…

Because I’m not thinking about editing…

Because I’m not thinking about lens choices…

My attention moves somewhere else.

It moves toward the world.

Toward details.

Toward textures.

Toward buildings.

Toward leaves.

Toward small moments that I would’ve ignored before.

Sometimes I’m making macro photographs of leaves and veins and textures.

A moment later I’m photographing architecture across the street.

The limitations don’t reduce possibility.

They expand it.

The more boxes you give yourself, the more you begin to think outside of them.

Photography as a Way of Being

What I’m beginning to realize is that photography isn’t something I do.

It’s a way of being.

It’s a way of engaging with the world.

When I walk one street…

When I remove decisions…

When I trust my instincts…

I enter a flow state.

And in that flow state, I find the present moment.

That’s the real gift.

Not the photographs.

The awareness.

The presence.

The feeling of being fully engaged with life.

Building a System That Encourages Practice

One thing that has surprised me is how motivating the project structure itself has become.

The map updates every day.

The streets accumulate.

The miles walked increase.

The photographs grow.

I even built a loading bar that shows:

• Streets completed
• Miles walked
• Photographs geotagged
• Project progress

And every time I update it, something happens psychologically.

You want to continue.

You want to walk another street.

You want to see what happens next.

The system itself creates momentum.

Mapping Your Walk

Because this project has been so meaningful for me, I built a tool that allows other photographers to participate.

You can upload your photographs.

Create your own walk.

Submit GPS-tagged images.

Add your route to the map.

People are already contributing walks from places like France.

The idea is simple:

Create your own project structure.

Document your own city.

Build your own archive.

Turning Walks Into Physical Books

One of my favorite parts of the project is the physical output.

If you upload at least 36 photographs, you can generate a printable zine.

You can print it at home.

Fold it.

Hold it in your hands.

I use a basic Brother monochrome laser printer.

Nothing fancy.

But there is something deeply fulfilling about ending the day with a physical object that represents your walk.

I’ve also added a mini-zine feature that lets you print six photographs onto a single sheet of paper.

Again, simple.

But powerful.

The Ultimate Creative Constraint

Life isn’t always going to hand you something interesting to photograph.

But you can always move your body through the world.

You can always walk.

And maybe that’s the ultimate creative constraint.

Not searching for photographs.

Not searching for stories.

Simply choosing a street.

Choosing a direction.

And beginning.

Because once the walking starts, the photography becomes effortless.

You stop forcing.

You stop searching.

You start noticing.

You start seeing.

And before you know it, you’ve come home with hundreds or even thousands of photographs.

Not because something extraordinary happened.

But because you were awake enough to notice what was already there.

And that’s what this project is giving me.

It’s helping me see.

It’s helping me remain curious.

And it’s making photography feel alive again.

If this was useful or insightful for you, thank you for watching.

Check out the tool on the site.

Give it a go.

And I’ll see you in the next one.

Peace.

Lancaster Avenue in Flux

A 6.22-kilometer walk along Lancaster Avenue in Philadelphia documenting the corridor through Belmont, Powelton Village, Mill Creek, and Overbrook.

The route contains 141 black-and-white photographs made over a period of 2 hours and 13 minutes using a RICOH GR IV Monochrome camera. All photographs contain geographic coordinates corresponding to their position along the avenue.

Recorded on June 7, 2026.

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PHOTOGRAPHS
141

GEOTAGGED
141 (100%)

DURATION
2h 13m

ROUTE DISTANCE
3.9 mi / 6.22 km

DATE
2026-06-07

CAMERA
RICOH GR IV Monochrome

LOCATION
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA

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Part of the Flux Archive — an ongoing photographic record of space, time, and change.

Open Lancaster Ave in Flux →

I Walk One Street Every Day in Philadelphia

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

I’m currently walking down Lancaster Ave here in Philadelphia, and today’s thought is about my current project: documenting every street in Philadelphia in Flux.

I’m giving myself a creative constraint—walking one street each day and photographing whatever I find.

In places like this, it’s quite desolate. You look around and see warehouses, houses, neighborhoods, dilapidated sidewalks that I trip on and stub my bare feet against while trying to make a video, shoes hanging from wires, fire hydrants, infrastructure.

Very basic subject matter.

Very mundane things.

I’m looking at the cars. I’m looking at everything around me. There aren’t many people here, and as a photographer who primarily works with humanity—photographing people, candid moments—this has become a really powerful exercise.

I don’t only photograph people these days. I photograph all sorts of things. But if you’ve been looking for a creative challenge, I highly recommend giving this one a try:

Follow one street each day and document the place closest to you.

Thinking Like an Archivist

City Hall here in Philadelphia is like the heart of the city.

There’s a station there with all sorts of arteries connecting different neighborhoods throughout the city. As a photographer, I’m interested in hopping on the subway, taking trains to different places, following a street, and documenting whatever I find.

I’m beginning to think of myself less as a photographer—or even an artist—and more as an archivist.

Maybe even a cartographer.

Someone mapping space and time through photography.

The outcome of the work is digitally archived material on a website, with the ability to print physical zines, which I do daily.

It’s incredibly fulfilling to come home, go through the photographs, and make something physical every single day.

The More You Walk, The More You See

What’s happening with this practice is that I’m shooting so much.

And I think that’s a good thing.

The more you walk, the more you see.

The more you see, the more you photograph.

And the more you photograph, the more curious you become.

The practice fulfills its own goal.

Increasing curiosity.

If you’re looking to increase your curiosity, follow your nose and forget everything you think you know.

Step out into the world.

Look at all the surfaces around you.

Notice the way light casts upon the world.

Watch textures emerge.

Watch patterns converge.

Photograph those things.

Follow your instinct.

I’m not thinking about outcomes with these photographs. I’m simply following instinct while simultaneously constraining myself to a single street.

I’m interested in signs.

I’m interested in the fleeting nature of life.

I’m interested in documenting space and time.

The Artwork Is the Archive

This way of practicing photography feels very pure.

It’s not about whether individual frames are great.

It’s about the collection of images that describes space and time.

It’s about creating an archive.

The artwork is the archive.

The photographs are simply the output of curiosity.

They are the residue of me waking up each day eager to explore a new place.

And over time, through collecting all these different frames, we begin to witness change.

When you look back at these photographs ten years from now, the streets will never be the same.

No two days will ever be the same.

No two photographs will ever be the same.

Everything is in flux.

Everything is changing.

You Are Changing Too

You are changing on a physiological level.

Your cells replenish.

You eat.

You sleep.

You accumulate new experiences.

And when you return to the street, you’re seeing the world anew each day.

I find that by coming out here daily, I’m stepping into a stream of becoming.

A stream of evolution.

A stream of change.

Photography becomes the vehicle through which I participate in that process.

It’s about embracing play.

Embracing openness.

Embracing an insatiable love for life.

That’s what fuels me.

As much as I’m out here archiving the city, I’m equally fueled by curiosity and philosophy.

Returning to the street with openness.

Receptivity.

Empathy.

Curiosity for humanity.

And a desire to uplift the world through the medium.

Timestamping Fleeting Moments

I’m trying to grab hold of fleeting moments and timestamp them.

With metadata.

With GPS coordinates.

With space and time on a map.

With a digital archive that grows daily.

With physical artifacts that continue to evolve.

Returning to a new street every day, no matter how mundane it seems, reveals endless novelty.

There are always new ways to practice photography.

Always new things to notice.

Always new ways of seeing.

Stop Trying to Make Great Images

If you’re looking for the ultimate creative challenge, walk one street every day and see what you find.

Let go of outcomes.

Let go of the idea that the images need to be great.

Let go of the idea that they need to please an audience.

Let go of genre.

If anything, think 300 years into the future.

Stop dwelling on what images look like now.

Stop thinking about what has been done over the last fifty or one hundred years.

Go back to photography’s origin story.

Think about how the medium was used to preserve space and time.

Think about how photography can function as an archive of lived experience.

Beyond poetry.

Beyond storytelling.

Beyond intention.

Just moving through space and time and capturing what you find.

Not trying to make something important.

Not trying to make something impactful.

Just embracing the banal.

The mundane.

The infrastructure.

The snapshot.

And asking:

What will this look like 300 years from now?

Beyond the Photographer

Don’t worry about pleasing an audience.

Don’t worry about whether the work makes sense.

Think beyond yourself.

Think beyond your lifetime.

Think about how the work might be viewed postmortem.

What happens when the archive outlives the photographer?

That question fascinates me.

Building a System Without Decisions

What I’m building toward is a system where I go out and make photographs and Flux handles the rest.

The software I’m developing will go through the photographs and publish everything autonomously without me making decisions.

I’m trying to relinquish control as much as possible.

That’s one reason I’m enriching my files with metadata.

I’m training software to cull my work and build projects autonomously.

What if you simply walked and photographed every day?

What if you never had to go home and review the frames?

What if you never had to dwell on what they meant?

What if you just kept moving?

Kept walking?

Kept shooting?

What if you became radically detached from the outcome?

The ultimate goal becomes simple:

To be under the sun, walking endlessly.

I find that deeply fascinating.

Photography as a Way of Being

I just walked for an hour and a half, maybe two hours.

I already have around 800 photographs on my SD card.

I shoot it all.

I capture it all.

I’m trying to build a workflow that allows me to continue shooting without spending hours inside afterward.

Any time I spend indoors, I feel like my soul dies a little.

But when I’m outside, moving my body and photographing, I feel alive.

I feel like I exist outside the passage of time.

Through the creation of images, I remind myself:

Maybe I can’t live forever, but at least I can make a photograph.

And so I keep making photographs.

Because photography, for me, is beyond the image.

It’s a way of being.

A way of connecting with the moment.

The photograph is just a byproduct.

The image is simply evidence that I was here.

What I’m really seeking is the experience itself.

The practice.

The walking.

The noticing.

The feeling.

That’s what matters.

Philly in Flux: Surveying Philadelphia One Street at a Time

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

Today I want to share a project that I’ve been working on called Philly in Flux, where I essentially survey the streets of Philadelphia and photograph along my journey, documenting space and time.

The goal is simple:

Cover the entirety of the city.

So far I’ve completed 7 different projects, made over 1,000 photographs, and walked 51 miles in 27 hours throughout the month of June.

And honestly, it’s been one of the most fulfilling projects I’ve ever worked on.

Mapping the City

I built a map that tracks every street I’ve covered so far.

Most recently, I walked Passyunk Avenue. Each walk becomes its own project that you can open and explore individually.

For example:

• 118 photographs
• 9 kilometers walked
• 2.5 hours on foot

Every photograph is attached to a location on the map.

You can click any point and view the image made at that exact spot.

One feature I recently implemented allows you to open the photograph directly in Google Maps and compare it with Street View, so you can see precisely where the frame was made.

Yesterday I found myself wandering through abandoned industrial areas and junkyards. Looking back through the photographs afterward, it’s fascinating to see how these forgotten places become part of the larger archive.

The Archive Is the Artwork

Everything is cataloged on the Flux archive.

The project isn’t really about making “great photographs.”

It’s about creating a document of space and time.

I’m not trying to do anything fancy.

I’m simply interested in preserving my hometown.

The goal is to make a document of space and time.

Every day I come home and create a zine from the walk.

Daily Zines

Each zine contains 36 photographs.

As you flip through the pages, each image includes:

• Time
• Date
• Location
• GPS coordinates
• Photographer name

On the back is a simple contact sheet, a short manifest, and a QR code that links directly to the digital archive.

I built a cart feature into the website that lets me select 36 photographs and automatically generate a PDF.

Anyone can create their own version of a walk this way.

Ultimately, the digital archive is the primary output.

But the physical objects matter too.

I’ve already created several zines from these walks, and I genuinely enjoy sitting down and flipping through them.

They’re printed on a cheap monochrome Brother LaserJet printer using ordinary copy paper.

And honestly?

I love it.

The imperfections are part of the aesthetic.

The grit, the grain, the disposable quality of the paper all feel aligned with the work itself.

Why This Project Feels Different

One thing I’ve noticed is how satisfying it feels to end the day with something tangible.

The map updates.

The zine gets printed.

The chapter closes.

There is something incredibly rewarding about seeing the work accumulate.

I don’t feel any urge to stop because the process itself is fulfilling.

I genuinely enjoy looking at the photographs.

I genuinely enjoy watching the archive grow.

And because of that, I simply keep going.

Creative Constraints Create Freedom

While surveying the city, I’m still following my aesthetic instincts.

I’m still looking for:

• Light
• Shadow
• Shapes
• Texture

But what interests me most is the constraint.

The tighter the creative constraint, the more creatively liberated I feel.

Take Washington Avenue, for example.

It’s full of warehouses, abandoned lots, and random junk cars.

On paper, there isn’t much to photograph.

But that’s exactly why it becomes interesting.

When there is no obvious subject, I start looking harder.

I begin noticing details beneath cars.

The way light falls across concrete.

The geometry of a shadow.

The texture of a wall.

The constraint forces me to pay attention.

And because of that, I’m making more photographs than ever before.

My Ricoh GR Setup

One technical thing I’ve been doing with the Ricoh GR monochrome is using the red filter along with crop mode.

The crop mode is assigned to a shortcut.

A quick double tap switches me to a 50mm equivalent field of view.

That means I can move from:

• Macro mode
• To crop mode
• Back to 28mm

Almost instantly.

Most photographs are made while walking.

Tap. Tap. Click.

Tap. Tap.

Back to 28mm.

The workflow is incredibly fluid.

Being able to crop in quickly lets me photograph building tops, architectural details, and distant subjects without crossing the street.

The LCD-based shooting experience makes the entire process effortless.

And for a project built around covering ground quickly, that speed matters.

Photographing Infrastructure

Most of the photographs are of inanimate things.

Sometimes people appear.

Sometimes interesting moments happen.

But generally I’m looking at:

• Buildings
• Signs
• Cars
• Doorways
• Utility poles
• Infrastructure

Anything that contributes to street life.

The city itself is the subject.

You Should Try This Yourself

If you have a street, neighborhood, or city that you care about, I highly recommend trying a survey project of your own.

I recently opened a submission portal where people can upload their own mapped walks.

I’ve already received work from Christophe in France, who’s documenting his own neighborhood.

Seeing other people use the tool has been incredibly rewarding.

The process is simple:

1. Upload photographs
2. Add a title
3. Add a location
4. Submit the walk

I’ll review the project and add it to the catalog.

Unexpected Discoveries

One of the most rewarding parts of the project has been what happens along the way.

While walking Ridge Avenue, I unexpectedly met the owner of the oldest home on the street.

He invited me inside.

I photographed the house and learned about its history.

Moments like that aren’t something you can plan.

They happen because you’re out there walking.

Because you’re paying attention.

Recently I also walked Passyunk Avenue with my mother.

She pointed out parks and streets where she used to play as a child.

The walk became part photography project, part family history lesson.

Those moments have become just as important as the photographs themselves.

Thinking Like an Archivist

I’ve started thinking less like a photographer and more like a cartographer or archivist.

Of course, I still have aesthetic preferences.

I still respond instinctively to light and composition.

But increasingly, I’m interested in the archive itself becoming the artwork.

The miles walked, the places photographed, the timestamps, captions, and metadata are just as important as the photographs.

That’s the project.

Documenting space and time.

Preserving Change

Walking Germantown Avenue was a perfect example.

You move through historic German architecture, stone facades, churches, and old homes.

Then suddenly you’re surrounded by abandoned buildings, faded signs, construction sites, and modern developments.

The street transforms as you move through it.

You begin noticing:

• Architectural changes
• Economic shifts
• New developments
• Decaying infrastructure

All existing simultaneously.

The goal isn’t to judge any of it.

It’s simply to preserve it.

To create a record of what existed at a particular moment in time.

Unlocking the Map

I even added a progress tracker to the project.

It shows:

• Streets covered
• Photographs made
• Miles walked

Watching the numbers grow is strangely satisfying.

It’s almost like uncovering a map in a video game.

Every walk reveals a new section.

Every photograph adds another piece to the archive.

Walk More

If there’s one lesson this project has reinforced, it’s this:

The more you walk, the more you see. The more you see, the more you photograph.

So what if the ultimate goal wasn’t to photograph more?

What if the ultimate goal was simply to walk more?

That’s how I’ve started orienting my days.

One street.

One avenue.

One creative constraint.

And by limiting the possibilities, I somehow find myself seeing more than ever before.

It’s been an incredibly fulfilling journey so far, and I’m excited to continue documenting Philadelphia one street at a time.

Peace.

PHILLY IN FLUX is an ongoing photographic survey of Philadelphia conducted on foot.

Beginning in June 2026, Dante Sisofo started walking the city’s major streets and corridors from end to end, documenting each route with a RICOH GR Monochrome camera and precise geographic coordinates. Every project combines photographs, maps, route data, duration, and distance into a permanent public record.

The project treats the city as an open archive. Streets are documented one at a time through direct observation, transforming everyday movement through Philadelphia into a growing visual map of place, time, and experience.

Each walk becomes a standalone publication while also contributing to a larger city-scale portrait. As new routes are completed, the archive expands, revealing Philadelphia through its streets, neighborhoods, storefronts, infrastructure, and daily life.

PHILLY IN FLUX is updated continuously and is intended as a long-term effort to document the city one corridor at a time.

PASSYUNK AVE IN FLUX

2026-06-06
RICOH GR IV MONOCHROME

VIEW PASSYUNK AVE IN FLUX →

This walk documents Passyunk Avenue and surrounding streets in South Philadelphia across an 8.95-kilometer route. The journey traverses East Passyunk Avenue, Girard Estates, and portions of Southwest Philadelphia during an afternoon in early June.

A total of 118 monochrome photographs were created over two hours and thirty-four minutes. Of these, 116 photographs contain precise geographic coordinates, representing 98.3% of the visual record. The resulting collection traces movement through commercial corridors, residential blocks, intersections, and everyday encounters encountered along the route.

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PHOTOGRAPHS
118

GEOTAGGED
116 (98.3%)

DURATION
2h 34m

ROUTE DISTANCE
8.95 km

DATE
2026-06-06

FLUX Weekly Witness #7: Miguel Monforte’s Holy Week Visual Diary

• PDF Transcript
• Spanish PDF

What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.

Welcome to FLUX Weekly Witness #7, where I look at the photographs that you submit to me in the FLUX community.

Today is an exciting day because I received a book from Miguel Monforte: FLUX Volume 1, where he photographed Holy Week in Samper de Calanda, Spain.

This book is a visual diary of that experience—photographing the processions, the drums, the landscapes, the family gestures, religious symbols, and everyday moments in his town.

So today, we’re going to look through these black-and-white photographs together.

The Cover

We have a cover that Miguel made using a collage across the front and back.

There’s an extremely playful, personal energy here.

You can see the procession of religious figures walking down the path, and this flower is a really nice touch. I enjoy the collage approach on the cover. It feels eccentric, energetic, and personal—an introduction to the diary-like nature of the work.

Opening the Book

We have the title page with FLUX Volume 1 and this beautiful tree in the landscape. You can even see the moon in the frame, which is a lovely detail.

Opening with a full-bleed spread gives us an introduction to the environment. We see a beautiful church in the distance and a path leading us into the scene.

Along the outskirts of the town, we begin gathering contextual information through landscape photographs, architecture, and railroad elements.

Establishing the Place

Here we have two photographs of the same scene.

Same location. Different approach.

Different compositions.

I like the way Miguel moves between diptychs and full-bleed spreads throughout the book.

We see figures walking into the distance as silhouettes, subtly foreshadowing the procession that unfolds later in the work.

One photograph that really stood out to me uses framing in a fascinating way. Whether it’s one image split across the spread or two separate photographs working together, it gives us contextual information about the landscape while showcasing those beautiful rolling hills in the background.

I love the use of light and shadow here, along with the solitary man working in the fields.

The textures are beautiful.

To be frank, I think all of the imperfections and textures around us can become elevated through the way we look at them as photographers.

You can tell Miguel has a sensitivity to those elements.

Sacred Landscapes

As we move deeper into the work, we encounter a diptych that I absolutely love.

The textures, natural forms, and shapes feel sacred.

While we’re moving toward Holy Week, these landscapes almost feel biblical.

The combination of a full-bleed image on one side and a framed image on the other makes excellent use of the spread.

There’s even a tiny airplane visible in the sky.

What I enjoy most is the ambiguity.

These landscapes feel detached from space and time.

You can’t immediately tell where they were made, and that mystery makes them some of the strongest photographs in the book.

There’s something about the ambiguity and mystery of these landscapes that makes them incredibly powerful.

Entering the Procession

Now we see the town from a distance.

A small place surrounded by vast rural landscapes.

Soon figures begin entering the frame and moving us toward Holy Week.

There’s a photograph of people playing soccer that introduces movement and repetition. Across multiple spreads, Miguel demonstrates a strong sense of layering, timing, and spatial awareness.

Then we get a full-bleed photograph of a drum.

You can almost hear the streets.

You can feel the procession arriving.

The energy of the image fills the page.

As we turn the page, we encounter more drummers, but with greater context. Faces become visible. Streets emerge. The atmosphere becomes more tangible.

The procession is now fully present.

Light, Shadow, and Ritual

We encounter Roman soldiers wearing helmets, photographed with beautiful use of light and shadow.

The crushed backgrounds and bright highlights elevate what could otherwise feel mundane.

Light transforms the scene.

Then we arrive at a spread that requires turning the book.

I love this.

The physical interaction with the book mirrors the energy of the photograph itself.

We see ghostly figures in motion, a solitary figure standing behind them, and drums mysteriously emerging from the scene.

Very cool.

Very energetic.

The sequencing works beautifully.

Faces and Emotion

The next spreads move closer.

We get a tighter crop of a face paired with another frame, creating something that feels almost abstract despite remaining firmly documentary.

Then comes a reveal.

One face on the right.

Turn the page.

Another face on the left.

It’s a simple sequencing decision, but it creates emotional impact.

There’s power in the gaze.

The drummer on the left, holding a drumstick, feels present and alive. Even the distortion in the foreground adds intrigue.

Simple gestures can elevate a frame and create emotional resonance.

Fragments of Holy Week

We move from strong portraiture into geometry and light.

The compositions become highly refined.

Then we encounter a simple but emotional photograph of a boy looking downward while light falls across figures in the background.

There are blurry, imperfect fragments of the procession.

A glowing halo around Mary.

A solitary figure standing beside a brick wall.

More light and shadow.

What I find interesting is Miguel’s ability to balance geometry and structure with spontaneity and energy.

He understands shape, form, and light—but he’s also willing to embrace chaos.

Playfulness

There are photographs built around shadow play and hand gestures that introduce a playful energy.

Then we see a child on a swing.

Despite the emphasis on geometry and light throughout the project, the work never feels rigid.

It remains alive.

There’s joy in it.

I even love the small detail of the feet appearing in the top-left corner of the frame.

Inside the Church

Now we move inside the church.

Families gather.

People observe.

Life unfolds around the rituals.

One particularly strong photograph shows a man speaking in the foreground while an older man sits in a chair behind him.

The window frame anchors the composition beautifully.

Excellent use of structure and relationships within the frame.

Then we see a sleeping man indoors paired with a dog sitting in a window.

The contrast between the two photographs creates a compelling visual dialogue.

Returning to Nature

Toward the end of the book, we return to the natural world.

Beautiful botanical photographs echo the imagery we saw earlier.

These recurring visual motifs help weave the work together.

I noticed that immediately, and I really appreciate it.

The botanicals are simply beautiful.

Then we encounter another pair of photographs that feel connected to the opening landscapes.

Instead of looking at the vastness of the environment, we’re now focusing on its details.

You can almost feel the wind moving through the frame.

There’s a serenity and ethereal quality to these photographs.

The contrast is fantastic.

Deep shadows on one side.

Bright open space on the other.

And finally, a wide landscape brings the visual diary to a close.

Final Thoughts

Miguel, really great work.

I’m super happy this book arrived.

There are strong landscapes, thoughtful sequencing, beautiful use of light and shadow, and a genuine sensitivity to texture and atmosphere throughout.

The project feels personal.

It feels rooted in place.

And most importantly, it feels lived.

Thank you for making it, man.

I appreciate it.

That’s pretty much it for today’s video.

I’ll see you in the next one.

Peace.

VIEW RIDGE AVE IN FLUX →

This walk documents Ridge Avenue across northwest Philadelphia over 16.23 kilometers, capturing 207 monochrome photographs during a five-hour period. The route traverses multiple neighborhoods including Upper Roxborough, Roxborough, Wissahickon, and East Falls. All photographs contain geographic coordinates. The camera used is a RICOH GR IV Monochrome.

PHOTOGRAPHS – 207

GEOTAGGED – 207 (100%)

DURATION – 5h 3m

ROUTE DISTANCE – 16.23 km

DATE- 2026-06-05