Why I Photograph Everything | Flux Archive Vol. 2
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.
Welcome to Flux Archive #2, where I revisit photographs I’ve made over the years through my black-and-white visual diary practice.
Today we’re looking at Flux Volume 002, photographs made between February 7, 2023, and April 12, 2023.
Without further ado, let’s jump into the work.
The Flux Protocol
Every Flux zine begins with the Flux Protocol.
Flux is an open-source chronological photography publishing system that I’ve developed.
If you’d like to create your own zine like this, click the link in the description. You can generate your own publication, submit it to me, and maybe I’ll review it here on the channel.
Photography Without Chasing Greatness
The first photograph shows two socks protruding from a man sleeping on the street.
It’s a simple image.
But it reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.
The act of making things simply for the sake of making them.
Photography, for me, has become an autotelic practice.
That means the reward isn’t making a great photograph.
The reward is found within the act itself.
The walk.
The observation.
The curiosity.
The willingness to respond to whatever life places in front of me.
The process is the goal.
Saying Yes to Curiosity
As I move through the city, I’m constantly noticing small details.
A shoe caught between the cracks.
My own reflection becoming a self-portrait.
Two strangers embracing.
A small gesture between hands.
I’m no longer asking myself whether these photographs will be considered “good.”
If something sparks my curiosity, I make the photograph.
That freedom has changed everything.
Photography becomes less about performance and more about paying attention.
Beyond Documentation
As aware as I am of reality, I’m equally interested in going beyond it.
Light surprises me.
Reflections surprise me.
The way shadows fall across architecture surprises me.
A beam of light striking the Masonic Temple.
Clouds drifting overhead.
Branches reaching into the sky.
Those moments remind me that photography isn’t only about documenting what’s there.
It’s about responding emotionally to what you see.
Photography as a Way of Being
Photography has gradually become less of an activity and more of a way of being.
It helps me remain present.
The present moment is the greatest gift life gives us.
Standing beneath moving clouds.
Watching light transform a building.
Listening to the city breathe.
Every click of the shutter becomes another way of saying yes to life.
Extraordinary Moments Are Not the Goal
Sometimes extraordinary things happen.
A child holding a toy gun.
A car on fire.
Unexpected drama unfolding in front of me.
But I never leave home searching for these moments.
I’m simply walking.
Open.
Sensitive.
Available.
Because I spend so much time photographing, my instincts have become automatic.
When something unfolds, I don’t hesitate.
I respond.
Those impactful moments are rare.
That’s why it’s important to already be outside when they happen.
Follow Places That Bring You Joy
One photograph shows the Philadelphia skyline from the Benjamin Franklin Bridge.
This isn’t a destination because it’s famous.
It’s simply somewhere I love walking.
That’s something I encourage everyone to do.
Go to the places that naturally pull you.
Photograph the locations your inner child wants to revisit.
Follow your curiosity without hesitation.
Don’t Box Yourself In
Throughout this volume you’ll find:
- Landscapes
- Portraits
- Street moments
- Architecture
- Details
- Reflections
- Light studies
I’ve stopped believing that photography has to fit neatly into one category.
Working within a simple constraint—high-contrast black and white using a compact camera—actually gives me more freedom, not less.
I don’t worry whether something qualifies as street photography.
I simply respond to life.
Street Photography Is More Nuanced Than Rules
Street photography isn’t about rigid definitions.
It isn’t about deciding whether asking permission is acceptable.
Or whether candid photographs are somehow more authentic.
It’s about responding to humanity.
Sometimes I ask permission.
Sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes I make portraits.
Sometimes I photograph buildings.
Sometimes I photograph reflected light.
There are countless ways to engage with the street.
The more freedom you allow yourself, the longer you’ll remain creatively alive.
Becoming the Archivist of Your City
One of the biggest shifts in my thinking has been treating myself as an archivist of Philadelphia.
Many of the places in this zine no longer exist.
Penn’s Landing has changed dramatically.
Buildings have disappeared.
Construction has transformed entire blocks.
By making photographs without worrying about immediate impact, I’ve unknowingly preserved pieces of the city that are already gone.
Photography preserves space and time.
That’s incredibly meaningful.
Five years from now…
Ten years from now…
Twenty years from now…
Those photographs may carry far more weight than they do today.
Let Time Give the Work Meaning
When you stop chasing immediate validation, something interesting happens.
The photographs begin collecting meaning over time.
Not because they’re technically perfect.
But because they become evidence that you were there.
That you witnessed your city.
That you paid attention.
Thinking of yourself as the archivist of your hometown gives every walk a quiet sense of purpose.
Change Your Perspective
Go slow.
Allow life to come toward you.
Look up as often as you look down.
Photograph the sky.
Photograph the pavement.
Experiment with different perspectives.
Some of my favorite portraits happened because I switched into macro mode and moved incredibly close.
Small changes in perspective often create entirely new photographs.
A Reflection of the Internal World
Near the end of this volume is a photograph of myself.
I’m holding a bottle of water.
A book I picked up from church.
My kendama.
Although photography documents the external world, it ultimately becomes a reflection of the internal one.
Every photograph says something about how I was experiencing life at that moment.
That’s what a visual diary really is.
Final Thoughts
At the back of every Flux zine you’ll find a complete contact sheet.
Each volume contains:
- 36 photographs
- Approximately 44 pages
- A QR code linking directly to the digital archive
Everything is available online.
If you’d like to explore this volume yourself, you can download the PDF, print it at home, and experience it as a physical publication.
Hopefully this volume encourages you to go outside, slow down, and begin photographing your own life.
Treat yourself as the archivist of your hometown.
Remain curious.
Trust your instincts.
And let time reveal the meaning of your work.
If you’d like to join the Flux community, click Join here on YouTube or submit your own work through the Flux Generator.
Thank you for watching.
I’ll see you soon.
Peace.