Photographing in Israel & Palestine: Street Photography, Humanity, and the Art of Curiosity
What’s poppin’, people? It’s Dante.
In today’s post, I’m sharing photographs I made in Israel and Palestine between 2017 and 2018 — a time when I was studying abroad at Hebrew University and exploring the world purely through instinct and intuition. The goal with these videos and posts is simple: to take you behind the scenes, to analyze compositions, look at contact sheets, and speak candidly about my process — about how the photographs were made, what I was feeling, and what I’ve learned about humanity through street photography.
📸 View all the full-resolution images, contact sheets, and behind-the-scenes notes:
👉 https://dantesisofo.com
Jerusalem: Where the Journey Began
When I first arrived in Jerusalem, I had no plan. I just showed up — pure spontaneity. I remember standing beside my mother at the Western Wall, photographing men as they prayed. But the moment that grabbed me wasn’t at the wall at all. It was to the left, where men were walking in and out of the bathroom — movement, life, rhythm.
That frame taught me something early on:
The obvious moment is rarely the best moment.
When photographing, I’m always looking beyond what everyone else is looking at. Photography, to me, is not about chasing “the shot” but about responding intuitively to life’s layers — to what’s unfolding just beyond expectation.
The Road to Jericho
After getting my bearings in Tel Aviv, I felt drawn toward Jericho. Something about that name, that road — it called to me. I didn’t think twice. I just took the bus.
In Jericho, I entered a mosque, curious about the prayer ritual. I wasn’t afraid or hesitant. I simply followed my curiosity — that childlike wonder that drives everything I do. I joined the men in prayer, observing how they moved, how they bowed. Afterward, a group of brothers invited me into their home. We shared tea, coffee, and laughter, and later they took me hiking through the Wadi Kelp mountain range.
When their car broke down at the top of the mountain, I hopped out and made a photograph — using the car as a foreground element to create depth. The composition came together in layers:
- Foreground – the car
- Middle ground – the men
- Background – the open blue sky
This was the moment I began truly seeing in layers — recognizing that depth isn’t just visual, it’s emotional.
To photograph is to feel the world’s rhythm and respond instinctively.
Discovering the Youth of Palestine
Back in Jericho, the youth became the heart of my photographs. Boys playing soccer, rolling tires, climbing construction sites — their energy was contagious. I didn’t stay on the sidelines. I played soccer with them, I beatboxed, I laughed. When you’re human first and photographer second, the camera disappears — and that’s when the magic happens.
In one frame, I used a window frame inside a construction site as a frame within a frame. The boy with the tire moved perfectly into place. Foreground, background, separation — everything aligned. But more importantly, it revealed something deeper:
Photography has nothing to do with photography. It has to do with how you engage with humanity.
That’s the lesson I carry from every scene. My photos are not about “capturing” people — they’re about uplifting them.
Shufat Refugee Camp: Overcoming Fear Through Courage
Walking into Shufat Refugee Camp in East Jerusalem was intense. High walls, metal detectors, soldiers — fear was natural. But courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s walking forward despite it.
I kept returning to this spot week after week, determined to photograph the separation wall. One day, I saw a boy tossing a baby stroller against the wall — a surreal, almost absurd act. I adjusted my body 45 degrees to reveal the shadow and depth of the scene. That small physical movement changed everything.
Photography is physical.
The only control you have is where you place your body, when you click the shutter, and how you see the world.
The final image — the shadow, the boy, the stroller, the wall — spoke volumes about resilience, play, and survival within confinement.
The Joy of Play and Spontaneity
In Jericho, I found freedom. Kids climbed on metal poles, balanced on cinder blocks, and built worlds out of rubble. I followed them, patient and present, waiting for that one perfect frame where chaos becomes harmony.
And then it happened: a boy climbing a pole, the desert background clean and open, the composition layered and alive.
Those moments — unplanned, playful, spontaneous — are everything.
I don’t go out looking for photographs.
The best photos come to those who stay open enough to receive them.
The Rainbow Over Jericho
Then there was the rainbow.
It rained for only 30 seconds in Jericho — a desert city where it almost never rains. The rainbow lasted five seconds. Within that sliver of time, a boy named Ramsey threw a stone across a crumbling building. His gesture — the arc of his arm, the stone midair, the rainbow overhead — became my David vs. Goliath moment.
Ramsey symbolized the resilience of the Palestinian youth. The rainbow symbolized hope. Together, they formed one of the most meaningful frames of my life.
Quiet Moments Amid Chaos
After photographing the energy of weddings and protests, I found peace inside — literally. During a loud Palestinian wedding, I stepped into a side room and saw a man praying while a boy slept quietly on the floor. The contrast between the chaos outside and the calm within was striking.
Photography is about balance — light and shadow, noise and silence, energy and stillness. Sometimes, the quiet frames carry the loudest truths.
Balata Refugee Camp: The Edge of Danger
In Balata, one of the most dangerous refugee camps, I photographed children playing with toy guns on a graveyard. Rocks were flying, chaos everywhere. I hid behind gravestones and still pressed the shutter. It was raw, frightening, and real. Those moments reminded me that street photography isn’t glamorous — it’s about confronting reality, no matter how uncomfortable.
Returning to Jericho
I traveled through Bethlehem, Ramallah, Nablus, Hebron, Jenin, and Ashkelon — but I always returned to Jericho. Why? Because it felt like home. The people knew me. I brought my Instax camera, gifting prints to strangers, hanging them on their walls. That’s how you gain access — through generosity and sincerity.
Photography opens doors, literally and metaphorically. One frame shows a mother changing her child inside a home, another shows my friend Yahya resting in the shade beside his name scrawled on a barn wall. These moments only existed because I kept showing up — because I gave before I took.
When you give photographs, you earn trust. When you return, you earn intimacy.
Life in the Mosque and the Everyday Ordinary
I even slept on mosque floors, volunteering, helping, learning. My mornings were simple — sweeping floors, drinking coffee, watering plants. My afternoons were spent photographing with my friends Ahmed and Mohammed, walking through rivers in the Wadi Kelp mountain range under that scorching desert sun.
The photos from those days are minimal — a man smoking, a friend resting — but they carry a deep intimacy. They represent what photography really is: a document of being alive and present.
Lessons From This Journey
- Curiosity is the compass. Go without plans. Let life surprise you.
- Courage is the engine. Fear is natural — move through it anyway.
- Playfulness is the key. Approach people with joy and openness.
- Patience is the practice. Work the scene. Wait for alignment.
- Humanity is the purpose. Uplift, don’t exploit.
Every photograph from this trip is a reflection of how I engaged with the world — not just what I saw, but how I saw. The deeper I went into these communities, the more I realized that my job wasn’t to “capture” anything — it was to listen, learn, and bear witness.
Closing Thoughts
I didn’t travel to Israel and Palestine to make a statement or tell a story. I went with nothing but my camera and curiosity. Every frame came from trust, spontaneity, and presence.
Photography is not about control. It’s about surrender — allowing life to reveal itself before your lens.
So if there’s one thing I want you to take away from these images and reflections, it’s this:
Be curious. Be courageous. Be playful.
Let life flow toward you, and press the shutter when your heart tells you to.
Peace.
🎞️ Watch the full video + view contact sheets and images:
👉 https://dantesisofo.com