Today, as I often do, I began my day by sifting through images published by photographers from around the globe. In this process, I encountered various styles and interpretations of street photography. Over the years, I’ve developed an instinct for feeling a 'good' street photo, shaped by my experience as a street photographer and my appreciation for the work of others. My own artistic journey has evolved into curation over the past three years, particularly since the inception of Stories_of_Isolation, leading me to uncover a deeper meaning behind this genre.
Manhattan, New York. July 2012.
Out of the approximately 100 shots I encounter each day, fewer than 10 truly resonate with me. These are the images that convey a story or evoke a genuine feeling. Within the static, I sense a vibrancy; for me, this is the essence of the art form. It's not the clever composition that sticks with me—though I certainly appreciate beautiful arrangements—but rather the substance of the image, rooted in its subject matter and the poetry it conveys, primarily how it makes me feel. This substance, as in all art forms, is what has the power to move us.
The words of Tolstoy, "My hero is truth," have lingered in my mind since childhood, shaping my decision to pick up a camera as a tool for expression. My drive, then and now, is to document and reveal the truth of what I see.
Toulouse, France. 2013.
During my first year as a young photography student, I encountered the work of the legendary Magnum photographers in a retrospective exhibition. Their images resonated deeply with me, capturing an undeniable truth. In their time, the camera was an unflinching document of life, and this remains the foundation of the art form I continue to embrace. I admired the likes of Cartier-Bresson, Eve Arnold, and Robert Capa; their photographs always silenced me, igniting a desire to understand and feel.
They documented life and its myriad moments with a silent, respectful gaze, never intending to alter the scenes they captured. For me, street photography will always embody the art of truth-telling.
Hyde Park, London. 2020
Many street photographers offer to teach the rules of composition and technique, and I’ve been asked to do the same. However, I always respond with the same sentiment: while there are fundamental skills to learn, art cannot be entirely taught. You must learn the art of exposure, I will say, we must understand this if we have a chance to play with light the way we must in the profession of photography. At its core, photography revolves around the respect and skill of reading and recording light but there is more.
Street photography, has an additional layer: the humanity and poetry of the moment. Your heart must be involved too. Recently, I shared a dinner table in Venice with Daniel Graves, the founder and former director of the renowned Florence Academy. When I asked him about teaching art, he remarked, “I can teach people how to paint, but I cannot teach them how to be an artist.” I believe this applies equally to street photography.
You might find yourself standing on a street corner, analyzing the perfect symmetry and composition of a scene, waiting for just the right figure or umbrella to pass. This approach emphasizes composition and direction, and while it may yield a stunning black-and-white image, I believe street photography is less about waiting and more about living and being ready.
Florence, Italy 2020
During my curation sessions, certain photographs resonate with me in a way that I imagine they resonated with the photographer at the moment of capture. This connection is a skillful merging of heart and mind; one must be a poet on one level while also mastering the technical aspects of exposure on another. It requires a quiet readiness, an ability to listen for that intuitive moment when everything aligns.
Manahttan, New York 2012
The instinct to take a shot often feels almost telepathic, emerging once exposure becomes second nature. Regardless of the equipment you use, lacking an understanding of your camera means you relinquish artistic control. While automatic features can be helpful, there are times when you must override them to assert your vision. This process teaches you to work with respect and harmony, transforming your camera into, as John Steinbeck put it, "an extension of mind and heart."
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