Street Photography Is an Addiction (And I Don’t Want the Cure)
What’s poppin’, people? Dante.
Currently outside of City Hall here in Philadelphia.
I have been afflicted with the disease of addiction to photography.
I don’t know about you, but there’s not a moment in the day where I can just put the camera aside and not be photographing. Every fleeting moment — I want a photograph. I want to photograph this whole freaking world. Every detail of this city.
It’s such an addiction.
It’s so bad.
But maybe this obsessive quality — being completely consumed by something you’re working toward — is actually kind of beautiful.
Because when you orient your life toward something intangible, especially something as absurd as photographing on the streets, where the quality of imagery you can achieve is so rare… it changes you.
We’re talking maybe 12 photos a day if you’re lucky. If you’re dedicated. If you’re photographing consistently all day long.
And realistically?
Way less than that.
You get a few a year that actually hit.
That’s what makes this whole thing so bizarre.
The Absurdity of Street Photography
For those of us living in cities like this, there’s endless material. Endless movement. Endless chaos.
People crossing streets.
Kids dribbling basketballs.
People sitting in chairs.
Architecture.
Light.
Backgrounds.
Gestures.
There’s always something.
And yet simultaneously… nothing is happening.
That’s the paradox.
You can spend your entire life outside wandering the streets and still come home empty-handed.
Day after day.
No “great” moment.
No masterpiece.
No externally validating outcome.
Just walking around pushing a rock uphill.
And somehow…
That’s exactly what makes it meaningful.
Photography Is a Mind-Body Practice
I genuinely believe photography is physical before it’s mental.
Your body matters.
Your energy matters.
You’re walking all day. Responding instinctively. Reacting to movement. Existing in a heightened state of awareness.
And I think resilience of the body directly correlates to resilience of the mind.
When the body is strong, the mind sharpens.
Then visual acuity sharpens.
Instinct sharpens.
Everything aligns.
And despite the fact that you might not find anything worth photographing…
Despite coming home empty-handed…
The act itself becomes fulfilling.
Not the outcome.
The process.
The curiosity.
The wandering.
The engagement with life itself.
The Intangible Is What Makes It Beautiful
There’s something deeply meaningful about moving toward the unknown.
Toward nothing.
Just chipping away every day.
Photographing despite uncertainty.
Despite lack of reward.
Despite rarity.
That’s what fuels me.
It’s like a bug bit me and now I can’t stop scratching the itch.
I genuinely can’t stop photographing.
I don’t even really know why I turn left or right anymore while walking through the city. You almost just surrender to flow.
And I think that’s another reason why I’m obsessed with photography:
You wander aimlessly, but simultaneously you’re oriented toward something.
There’s power in that.
Investing Time Instead of Spending It
We always talk about “spending” time.
But why not invest it?
Invest it into wandering.
Into contemplation.
Into curiosity.
Into observation.
Photography gets me there.
It makes every moment feel worth living.
Even when there’s no reward attached to it.
Even when nothing happens.
Photography becomes this superpower where you could throw me into the corner of a dark room with a tiny bit of light and a pencil on the floor…
…and I’ll find a million ways to articulate that pencil.
Manila Folders, Bureaucracy, and Flux
I keep seeing these manila folders on the streets and it makes me so happy.
Everyone’s got the Flux aesthetic now.
The aesthetics of bureaucracy genuinely inspire me.
That’s why I’ve been making these DIY books at home using a monochrome Brother laser printer, cheap computer paper, and staples.
And honestly?
I enjoy looking at those imperfect laser-printed photographs more than beautiful large-format archival prints.
There’s just something about the imperfection.
The temporary quality.
The disposable feeling.
It aligns philosophically with how I think about life.
Everything is transient.
Everything is ephemeral.
Everything is temporary.
And those physical qualities are reflected in the objects themselves.
That’s why I’m gravitating toward these handmade zines and mini-books.
Not because they’re perfect.
Because they’re alive.
DIY Publishing Feels More Honest
I’ve been making these tiny zines at home and carrying them around with me.
They’re disposable.
Giftable.
Temporary.
You can literally hand them to strangers.
I even built a mini-zine generator so people can drag and drop photos into templates automatically without worrying about InDesign or layout systems.
Because honestly, I think DIY publishing is more fulfilling.
It feels closer to the philosophy of the work itself.
Letting Go of Outcome
Life is short.
Everything is in flux.
And once you truly embrace that, you stop trying to control everything.
You surrender to time.
To unpredictability.
To uncertainty.
To impermanence.
And somehow that surrender becomes liberating.
Maybe that’s why I’m obsessed with photography.
Maybe I’m just trying to latch onto life itself.
Like every photograph could be the last one.
There’s definitely something existential about it.
Photography as Conceptual Art
At this point, photography for me is becoming less about the photographs themselves.
The images almost don’t matter anymore.
They’re just byproducts of existence.
Photography is becoming conceptual art.
A time-based practice.
A location-based practice.
An existential practice.
I’m here.
I’m alive.
I walked this street.
I saw this moment.
That’s enough.
Extract the metadata.
Archive the life.
Let AI organize the rest.
Just keep building the archive.
That’s the work now.
The archives are everything.