Flux Archive 013 — Why Every Photograph Is Unrepeatable
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.
Welcome to Flux Archive 013, where we look at some of the photographs I’ve made throughout my black and white photography journey.
These photographs span November through December of 2023.
Flux is a chronological photography publishing system that I built on my website. You can upload 36 photographs, automatically generate your own zine, and have every image sequenced chronologically with the exact date, time, and photographer name.
Without further ado, let’s get into the work.
Photography Is a Physical Act
These first photographs were made in Miami while riding the train with my brother.
One of the frames is tilted.
Not because I planned it.
But because that’s how my body responded to the movement happening in front of me.
I think photography is, first and foremost, a physical act.
A photograph is the result of your physical relationship to the scene, your position within it, and your instinct to click the shutter.
Your composition isn’t just about what’s in front of you.
It’s about where you stand.
How you move.
How you respond.
At the same time, the photograph becomes a reflection of your internal state.
The external world becomes a way of expressing how you feel about life.
That’s one of the reasons I love photography.
A Simple Technical Workflow
Walking through Philadelphia, I often photograph directly into the sun.
It’s a difficult lighting situation, but my workflow is intentionally simple.
I shoot in AV mode, f/8, minimum shutter speed 1/500, with automatic settings.
My snap focus stays set to 2 meters.
The only thing I usually adjust is exposure compensation.
When photographing into bright sunlight with my high-contrast recipe, I’m often around +1.7 EV.
That’s it.
One adjustment.
Everything else happens instinctively.
The simpler the technical process becomes, the more attention I can give to what’s actually unfolding in front of me.
Everything Is Worth Photographing
One photograph shows Independence Hall.
Another is simply dew resting on a leaf.
Macro mode has become one of my favorite tools.
Street photographers often overlook the small details beneath their feet because we’re searching for people and moments.
But the textures.
The leaves.
The cracks.
The tiny details.
They’re all photographable.
Photography becomes much richer when you stop separating subjects into what’s “worthy” and what isn’t.
Finding Beauty in Imperfection
During the Thanksgiving Day Parade, I photographed a child interacting with his own shadow.
Later I found a discarded outpatient medical record beside a trail.
Then weathered posters peeling from city walls.
These imperfect objects resonate with me.
I love the philosophy of wabi-sabi.
Finding beauty in imperfection.
Finding beauty in decay.
Finding beauty in ordinary things.
Even these tattered posters documenting the tragedies unfolding in Israel and Gaza became part of that visual exploration.
Photography allows me to stumble through the world imperfectly.
To embrace uncertainty rather than trying to explain everything.
Beyond Reality
High-contrast black and white lets me move beyond literal reality.
By crushing the shadows and exposing for the highlights, ordinary scenes begin to feel mysterious.
They become less about documentation and more about feeling.
I want the textures.
The light.
The ambiguity.
The mystery.
To carry as much emotional weight as the subject itself.
Looking at a faded sign reading Private Property beside a dead bird isn’t simply documenting objects.
It’s documenting a feeling.
That’s what I’m always searching for.
Feeling and Composition
As much as I photograph emotionally, I’m still aware of composition.
When I photograph a glove in the foreground beside a parked car, I’m consciously building relationships between shapes.
Photography is both emotional and visual.
Instinctive.
And intentional.
Your mind and your body begin working together.
Eventually composition itself becomes instinct.
Why I Love a Compact Camera
One thing that’s completely changed my photography is removing the viewfinder.
A compact camera on a wrist strap allows me to move freely.
To photograph close to the ground.
To photograph walls.
Textures.
Small details.
If I had a large viewfinder camera, many of these photographs simply wouldn’t exist.
Without lifting the camera to my eye, photography becomes less intrusive.
Less performative.
More playful.
It allows me to experiment naturally and integrate photography seamlessly into everyday life.
You Can Never Make the Same Photograph Twice
Every morning I walk beside the Schuylkill River.
I’ve photographed it countless times.
But I’ve realized something.
You can never make the same photograph twice.
The river changes.
The light changes.
The weather changes.
More importantly—
You change.
Every photograph exists only once.
That’s why photography offers infinite possibility.
Once you truly understand that, abundance naturally follows.
Everything becomes photographable.
Every day becomes different.
Every frame becomes unique.
No two photographs you ever make will be the same.
Closing
The final frame simply reads:
Times are tough.
A quiet moment during Christmas.
Every Flux issue includes contact sheets, downloadable PDFs, and an open archive available on my website.
If you’d like to create your own Flux zine, upload 36 photographs using the Flux Generator linked below.
If you’d like to join the Flux Discord community, click the Join button here on YouTube.
Thank you for watching.
Peace.