But in a press conference in 2010, mayor Menino mumbled his plan to revitalize the area. New transportation infrastructure was added (the Silver Line of the MBTA would provide public transport) and the scenic Boston Harborwalk was extended to run along the north side of the Seaport. 1,000 acres of the waterfront was redeveloped as an “Innovation District,” a regional hub for burgeoning industries such as clean tech, bio-chem, and health care IT.

It worked. In 2014, the area was described as “the hottest, fastest-growing real estate market in the country.” By 2017, the Seaport District boasted 78 restaurants, 8 hotels, and more than 1,100 housing units.

Yesterday, I revisited the Seaport, this time with my wife and kids. The transformation was stunning.

Everything was new. The streets weren’t just clean, but freshly paved with geometrically pleasing block work like I’d not seen since I visited Tokyo. Sleek, glass towers rose into fluffy clouds where abandoned cranes once listed against an overcast sky. The sounds of summer were carried along on a sweet breeze. Young sun worshipers lifted their faces under an azure sky. Live music carried with it the scent of outdoor dining. Families loving life and each other. We even saw (I kid you not) a marriage proposal. Moments after the heartwarming clapping trickled away, a Lamborghini’s motor roared through the canyons of glittering mirrors.

“Holy shit.” I said the swear quietly, so the kids wouldn’t hear. “This place has changed.”

My wife had never visited the Seaport during its squalid era. She asked what I meant. I explained, prefacing with the caveat that I’m kind of an idiot and don’t know much about anything.

“I remember this place being a total dump.” I said. “The last time I was here I watched a cop get mugged by six rats in a trench coat. The air smelled like dead fish and a bucket of nails. Now look at it.” I pointed to the three Lexuses parked alongside a perfectly manicured public garden, upon the lawn of which lounged a few dozen smartly-dressed young people drinking bubbly liquid out of crystal flutes. Everyone was smiling and gorgeous, with taut skin and perfect teeth. “Nothing but yuppie scum!”

She logged her disapproval of my prejudice against yuppie scum with a sideways glance. For the record, I don’t truly dislike anyone, not even yuppie scum. While I freely admit that conspicuously wealthy people irk me, I don’t really mean to pick on them. I just find immense pleasure in the phrase yuppie scum.

We walked on, stopping momentarily at the foot of a residential tower, all glass and Mithril silver like something from Tolkien’s elves. In the windows of the foyer floated framed monitors displaying listings for the apartments within, their amenities and pricing. $1.2 million, $2.6 million, $4.0 million. I gawped at the listing for one particularly luxurious rental unit and its price, a staggering $17,000 per month.

Per month!

After some time, I closed my mouth, blinked, turned to my family, and said the only words that came to mind. “Anyone want ice cream?”

At least my camera looked the part. Or it might have in 2002. Because I was using the Contax TVS Digital, a luxurious, expensive, stylish point-and-shoot digital camera capable of recording images at a stunning resolution of five point two megapixels.

We published an article last year about the growing popularity of Digicams, digital point-and-shoot cameras from the late ’90s and early ’00s. About a year later, The New York Times copied us and published a similar (though worse) article. It’s always nice to see a small publication find their voice.

I reviewed the Contax TVS Digital even before that, way back in 2019, and even then I predicted that we’d see a massive surge in the popularity of early digital point-and-shoots. Hey, maybe I do know something after all?

And so, today’s literary stroll will not be a camera review. I won’t list the specs, nor compare the titanium shelled Contax TVS Digital to its contemporary models. And readers searching for the history of Contax and the details of the Kyocera years will need to look elsewhere. I won’t even allow myself a sentence about the Contax T series‘ proclivity toward sapphire shutter release buttons, though it kills me to hold back.

I won’t mention how thrilled I was to discover that the Contax TVS Digital has an in-camera black-and-white shooting mode, nor how amazing it is at creating surprisingly striking images with deep shadows and well-retained highlights. I won’t compare it to Fujifilm’s film simulation modes. I won’t bring up the frustrations of the camera’s incredibly slow startup, nor its interminable read/write times as it saves and displays shot photos.

No, I won’t talk about the camera. Even though I want to, because I love its sing-song warble when I turn it on, I love the Game Boy quality sound effects that squeal from its insides when it locks focus and the delightfully fake shutter release sound it makes when I press the shutter release button, which – did you know? – is a synthetic sapphire?

I’ll hold back my gushing and simply share the photos, and bring you along as my beautiful wife and my lovely children enjoyed a stroll through Boston’s North End, down toward the waterfront, over the bridge, and into the new, revitalized seaport, where we wove through and amongst the filthy rich and the young and the beautiful, and where we stood in line for half an hour for the privilege of buying Japanese ice cream served in a warm, fish-shaped waffle, and where we held hands along the pristine harbor front walkways, and where we poked into a store that sells cupcakes made exclusively for dogs.

If that’s not gentrification, I don’t know what is.

But I do know that days like yesterday are why I love cameras and photography. I went to a place to see new things. I saw them, and I shot them with a neat camera. I shared the day with my family, made a few decent photos. In a perfect world we should all be so lucky.

[The gallery in this article contains images from the Seaport, as well as shots from Boston’s North End and other places where we spent our day, all made with the Contax TVS Digital in its black-and-white photo mode.]

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You didn’t bring Dramamine. This is a train. You have motion sickness. And then you chose the seats facing backward. Why didn’t you put this together, Lukas?

“It’s gonna be okay,” I let slip out. Bella, sitting across from me, has in earbuds. Thank goodness, she won’t think I’m crazy.

Today is a big day. As a kid in rural Mississippi, I dreamed of New York City. Live in some terrible apartment. Get a job busing tables at some diner that pays too little. Write the Next Great American Novel in my time off on some fifty-year-old typewriter purchased from some Greenwich Village shop that Bob Dylan once walked in. Live on Cinnamon Toast Crunch and the fear that the real world might knock down the door at any second and tell you the rent is two months late and it’s time to move on.

But the dream is dead.

I am a first-year student at Yale. This whole writing and photography thing? It has to be just a hobby. I need to make MONEY. I’m at smart-kid school now. They say it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. And those “whos” they are in the political groups. The consulting clubs. I’m sure that’s why the bookstore has so many LSAT practice books.

At Yale, it’s heresy to enroll in classes that fit your prospective major in your freshman year. So I took it as an excuse to let the dream breathe for a little bit. Stretch its legs in the library and listen to one more song before starting on the homework. The five minutes that becomes 10 minutes that becomes an hour before you finally turn off the music and throw your phone in airplane mode because the discussion post is due in an hour.

Consider this my 2-hours-out warning, and I’m sure as hell going to enjoy this final 60 minutes. So I applied to Intro to Digital Photography. 35 other people did too. For 10 spots.

The application asked who my favorite photographer was. The answer? Probably Pete Souza. I wrote Matt Eich instead; it’s art school after all.

And two months later, here I was on a train to New York City to see a Garry Winogrand exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum for class. Hadn’t heard of Winogrand or the Brooklyn Museum before.

Our class was to meet at the museum, and I had tagged along with Bella, a classmate, to get there. She’s a New York City regular – her sister is an art school student in the City. She taught me how to buy a ticket on the Metro-North, the train line that does the two-hour journey between New Haven and New York City. She didn’t warn me about the backward-facing seats, but how was she to know I can’t even get on a rollercoaster without throwing up?

Finally, we are almost there. Bronx stop. Just 15 minutes to go. Bella says when we get to Grand Central Station that we will switch onto the SUBWAY. The NEW YORK CITY SUBWAY. My mom will be proud. My grandmother will be terrified when she hears about it at the next holiday.

“The Subway leaves in 3 minutes,” Bella said as we stepped off the train into the underground platform, “Let’s go!”

She took off running. And I followed. Up the stairs. Was that a MOUSE? Through a throng of people. SORRY man in the trench coat with the briefcase, I didn’t mean to bump you!

“This should have some money left on it,” Bella handed me a spare Subway card as she swiped herself through. No time to go buy a new card from the machine.

And suddenly, I was there. Entering a dark room with black benches in the middle. Multiple projectors beam toward the walls, turning them into a collage of photo slideshows. Without a clue of how to act in a situation this foreign, I pick an empty bench and sit down.

Then a man in a suit sat down next to me. Great contrast to my disheveled hair and high school tennis sweatshirt. I belong in a tourist trap, not in this fancy art museum. The Walking M&M at Times Square is calling my name, come get a photo!

But then I looked up and forgot about everything. Where I was, who I was, what I needed to become. First, it was a photograph of a Texan in a cowboy hat humbly climbing a staircase while rows of cars flank the background. Where is he headed? But then the next photo comes.  A family getting out of a white car on white sand, heading up the hill as if they see a world I cannot. And then before I can even question where that might be, a group of people ranging from a middle-aged mother to little kids is pointing to the sky. At what? I can’t tell. I turn around to search for the answer, and I’m greeted by a woman in a white bathing suit arms outstretched against the blue sky with an amusement ride blurred in the back.

The rest of the class eventually left, but I stayed. Staring at the world of Winogrand, the America of the 1950s and 1960s, and realizing that I didn’t have answers to any questions his photographs were asking.

But I knew I wouldn’t find them without a camera or pen. After I had seen every photograph, I walked out into the winter New York City air. Past a diner. Past a secondhand store. Onto the train and back to New Haven certain that the final hour before I slammed the music off and went into the real world would never be enough.

So, is a photograph worth a thousand words? Well, they gave me a new life. And that’s worth way more than a thousand words in my own Next Greatest American Novel.

Our guest posts are submitted by amazing photographers and writers all over the world.

Today’s Guest Post was submitted by…

Lukas Flippo is a first-generation low-income student at Yale University from rural Mississippi. Lukas is a photojournalist, with work appearing in the New York Times, TIME, IndyStar, and the Sun Herald. Lukas’ work, including a series on found photos, can be seen at Lukas’ website.

For more stories and photography from the community check out the many series we’ve published over the years below!

Featured Photophile – we shine a spotlight on amateur photographers whose work we love.

Photographer Interviews – in-depth discussions with professional and established photogs doing great work.

Female Photographers to Follow – get inspired by a monthly series focused on the beautiful and unique perspectives of female photographers.

Five Favorite Photos – a hand-selected examination of the oeuvre of our favorite famous photographers.

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Against this backdrop many Japanese photographers would emerge to document the profound changes in their nation with bare, raw realism. Others pushed the boundaries of long held societal norms and taboos.

I’ve taken on the daunting task of picking just five photographers from this long period. These five Shōwa era masters of light exemplify the blistering pace of life that was challenging the very foundations of the nation. They propelled Japanese photography down new pathways.

Daido Moriyama (1938-    )

For me, photography is not a means by which to create beautiful art, but a unique way of encountering genuine reality. – Daido Moriyama

After serving as an assistant to the influential photographer, Eikoh Hosoe, Daido Moriyama would seek to interpret reality with a camera in his own distinctive style. Now referred to as the Godfather of Japanese street photography, Daido Moriyama’s work is characterized by dark, gritty, moody, images that attack traditional conventions of composition, focus and form. Uncompromisingly unpolished and raw, his style was best showcased in his book, Farewell Photography (Sashin yo Sayonara) published in 1972.  His photographs mirrored his personal desire to break free from the confines of a highly structured society and commercial photography.

Still active, he has gone on to produce well over one hundred photography books and has had gallery showings all over the world. He has made the Shibuya district of Tokyo the primary location for his street photography, and his work has influenced a generation of street photographers worldwide.

Nobuyoshi Araki (1940-)

Only artist without talent try to shock people. – Nobuyoshi Arak

A career that has spanned more than five decades, Nobuyoshi Araki, is one of Japan’s (and the world’s) most prolific photographers – he has produced over five hundred photography books. To some, he is a genius, to others a pariah. A complex and nuanced artist, his portfolio includes eroticism, still lifes, landscapes, celebrity portraits and intimate voyeuristic pictures of his personal life.

Controversial and provocative, his erotic depictions of bound women featuring the form of Japanese rope binding called kinbaku-bi has been labeled as misogynistic and pornographic by some critiques. While others hail it as cutting-edge fine art.

Themes of life and death permeate much of his work. Sentimental Journey and later Sentimental Journey/Winter Journey is perhaps his most poignant and celebrated series of images. He visually chronicles his honeymoon, marriage, and the subsequent death from ovarian cancer of his wife, Yoko. Sentimental Journey exemplifies the duality of the man and his work.

Toyoko Tokiwa  (1930 – )

Toyoko Tokiwa picked up a camera at a time when men dominated photography in a highly patriarchal society. Her early subject matter focused on the lives of the prostitutes in the red-light district, and their interactions with the American military in Yokohama. 

Driven partially by her disdain for prostitution and her initial animosity towards the US military because of the loss of her father in an American bombing raid, her candid pictures in her photography book Dangerous Fruitless Flowers (Kiken na Adabana) captures the sorrow and joy of these marginalized women.

Her lens also documented the scores of women joining the workforce to help reshape Japan. Her camera was a sympathetic instrument used to give testament to the lives of numerous Japanese women suddenly thrust into finding their place in post-war Japan.  

Ken Domon (1909 – 1990)

If it is not realistic, it is not photography. – Ken Domon

Ken Domon is called the master of Japanese realism. He is widely known for his unflinching photographs of the survivors of Hiroshima which he documented twelve years after the bomb was dropped. For many Japanese, his jarring photos of the deformities, burns and mangled bodies due to the atomic bomb blast and the aftereffects of radiation were too unsettling. He was heavily criticized in many corners of the country at the time. However, he was not a detached observer of the subjects of his camera, stating in an interview that the plight of many of his subjects would bring him to tears.

A series of strokes would eventually confine him to a wheelchair and his photography ventured more into a spiritual and a cultural direction. He would spend the remainder of his life photographing Buddhist temples and statues around his cherished land . This culminated in his major work of several decades entitled, Old Temple Pilgrimage ( Koji junrei) 

He would donate all 70,000 pieces of his life’s work to his hometown of Sakata in Yamagata prefecture. There, in 1983, a museum was established and dedicated solely to him and his photography.

Akira Sato (1930 – 2002)

While a student of Economics at Yokohama National University, Sato would become obsessed with the images of Western fashion and photographic magazines. Soon after graduation, he became a freelance photographer. Within a few years, he would specialize in fashion photography. In time, he became one of Japan’s most influential fashion photographers of the 1960s and ’70s. His photos were often published in SO-EN, Japan’s oldest and leading women’s fashion magazine.

His style is described as sophisticated and avant-garde, known for his edgy and stylistic close up black and white portraits of models. He blended fashion, portraiture, East and West into his own distinctive look. He would later utilize color, photographing models during his visits to Europe. His most notable collection of work is entitled, Woman, published in 1971.

Throughout the Shōwa period, Japan was a nation in transition. It was trying to hold to its long-held traditions while attempting to purge painful memories of its past, all while forging ahead to an uncertain future. These photographers (and many more not listed here) were witness to their country’s most tumultuous history. In this chaotic cauldron of creativity they would document, experiment and push the frontiers of photography, adding their own unique perspectives. They have gone on to influence countless photographers in their native land and now the rest of the world.

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Hi, my name is Kris Desautels.

When did you first become interested in photography? Which is your favorite camera to use, and how does the camera (and your other gear) influence your work?

I’ve been shooting off and on for most of my life with various little point and shoots, but started to really get into it about four years ago with a Fuji X100T. It’s a great compact camera with a 23mm prime lens. [Editor’s note – Kris is right! We reviewed the X100V just a few weeks ago. See that here.] After that I bought a Fuji XT-20, then purchased a Fuji XT-2 which is my current camera. The XT-2 is wonderful.

My lens lineup consists of a 16mm prime, a 56mm prime, 18-55mm zoom and a 55mm-230mm zoom. I primarily shoot with the 18-55mm because of it’s versatility. It gives me the flexibility to get a wide view while close to people as well as tighter views from across the street if something catches my eye. The 16mm and 56mm are great for shooting at night, and the 55mm-230mm is good for air and water shows that come to Chicago. As far as the Fuji XT-2 body, all major settings can be controlled using the turn dials on the top of the camera, so I never go into a menu when I’m out on the street. The design, build quality, and user friendliness really sets Fuji apart from other cameras I’ve used.

The photographer.

What are your favorite subjects to photograph?

It depends on what’s going on out in the street. I’ve been approaching the way I shoot in a couple of different ways. The first is to really take in as much architecture as possible, look for great light, and search for a lone figure wandering through my scene to get a sense of scale. On a good day I can see several different compositions at one location. Maybe try and tell a little story with three or four images.

I also love the hustle on the street during busy work days, and that’s when I’m looking for someone interesting, maybe what they’re wearing or a gesture that gives me a clue as to what they might be thinking or feeling. I was on my journey of getting a lot closer to people when shooting, then COVID came along and changed everything. Masks make it very hard to read someone, you have to see what they’re eyes are doing. It creates an anonymity that isolates people from one and other. When I go into the financial district in Chicago on a work day, the streets are nearly empty. What will happen to the downtown area? Will people ever come back to work in those offices? How will the pandemic affect large cities throughout the US?

We have a subject scarcity! But as long as the sun is shining, I’ll be out there shooting. Capturing that lone figure creates an isolated type feel, and it reminds me of what I love about the process of creation. It’s something that has resonated with me since I was a kid. Go get lost in my imagination and create another world. That’s my armor, and something I’ve always done on my own. So seeing someone isolated brings me joy, and comfort. 

Do you shoot film or digital or both? Do you think there are meaningful differences between the two?

Shooting film as a kid had a level of excitement that surrounded getting the pictures back from the developer. Although I shoot digital, I still get that same excitement, but the gratification comes at a faster speed. I like going home and plugging in the camera to upload shots and get into the editing right away. I work a full time job, and want my weekends to be made of photographic efficiency. I do love the look of certain films, and mess around in Lightroom trying to recreate those looks. But in the end, actual film is just not practical enough for me. 

What is unique about your work?

I think I find interesting subjects and have a unique way of seeing composition. All photographers see composition and subjects differently, it’s one of the beauties of it. Depending on what I’m thinking about, what I’ve been obsessing about, an idea, the interpretation or understanding of someone else’s idea, am I fearful, angry, depressed, lonely, joyful; all these things can add to my work if I allow myself to be vulnerable enough to experience them. The trick is trying to connect them to what I’m shooting. That’s the lifelong journey, trying to get to that Cartier Bresson mentality of connecting the head, heart, and vision. That’s what I want. It’s hard, but nothing worth doing is easy, so I try to remain open to new ideas and put one foot in front of the other. 

How do you achieve your results?

I shoot with my ISO in auto, and make adjustments to the shutter speed and aperture. When the light is consistent, I’ll leave the shutter speed at about 1/500th, and adjust the aperture depending on what I want to focus on. 

Where do you hope your photography goes from here?

Everywhere. I’m open, and will keep working on the craft and my understanding of this world we live and see where that takes me! 

Do you have any advice for new photographers?

Go out and shoot. It doesn’t matter what camera you have. Forget the full frame vs cropped sensor debate. It’s bullshit. Some of the best music is written on cheaper instruments, and it’s good because it’s just that. It’s goooooood. You can’t fake it. It takes practice. Photographers shoot photos. Writers write. It’s simple really. You won’t learn what to do on the street by just thinking about it. You have to do it. I would listen to podcasts on photography during my commute (45 min) to and from work. I did this for a year. Exposure triangle, composition techniques, editing tips. The goal was to take the tools and apply them in real time on the street, without thinking about it, and rely on my instinct. It doesn’t always work, I still look at my camera in front of a scene and think, ‘what am I doing right now?’ It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Read. A lot. I take time to read everyday. And don’t just read on your phone, it fucks with your head. Take time with a book, it slows your rhythm, helps with focus. The cell phone does the opposite, it irritates, isolates, and takes away your focus. And be careful with using too much social media, it can create a comparison game that you’ll never win. 

Where can people see more of your images?

Visit me on Instagram – send me a DM, say hello. I have a series coming out soon in the form of a zine, titled Post Industrial Confusion: Conversations with my Shadow. It’s going through the final stages, so stay tuned. You can also find me curating @street.finder on Mondays. 

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Nestled in the heart of the southern capital Chennai, Koyambedu serves as a work place for traders hailing from all across the southern subcontinent. At the break of dawn, people fill the market with vibrant life and energy. Over 3,100 shops fill an area of 295 acres, serving everything imaginable to over 100,000 visitors a day. It stands as a testament to the people running it and their dedication. What started out as a small market for perishable goods in 1996 has turned into one of the largest markets around. With infinite colors in every direction, it’s a powerful and humbling sight, and one worth capturing on film.

I’d been conservative in the gear I was carrying, trusting only my workhorse of a camera, the Nikon FM2n and its 50mm f/1.8 AIS lens. The FM2 has always been a sort of no-nonsense camera used by professionals, often as a backup camera, in the toughest of scenarios. It has a ‘get the job done’ kind of feeling to it. Loaded with Fuji C200, it’s perfectly suited to capture the vibrancy of the market. At least that’s what I thought initially. 

The most exciting aspect of the market also happens to be a nightmare for a photographer. The pace volatility of the place serves up new scenes every second. This makes for variety, a street photographer’s dream. At the same time, it quickly becomes difficult to carefully compose and take a shot. Any given scene only presents itself for an instant and then disappears into thin air. This energy is the soul of this place. 

After a quick adjustment to the process, pre-focusing for my subject and choosing settings which would provide decent latitude in terms of exposure, I pushed through, quite literally. That’s the beauty of color negative film, compared to slide film, I suppose. Its forgiving nature truly helps in such situations where we need our complete focus towards making the photos. 

Film, for me, has always been about color more so than some sort of physical tangible feeling. Don’t get me wrong, film’s analog nature is inviting for sure, but it’s an added bonus for me and not its main highlight. Film’s perfect balance between the tones and its shades never fails to surprise me. The vastly contrasting light and color matched with the dimly lit environment make this place a mecca for any photographer wanting a challenge for themselves. 

Settling in, I realized that it wouldn’t make sense for me to try to capture everything in front of me. Being limited to only 36 exposures per roll, I set out to best summarize the energetic place that the market is. And the best way to do this, I decided, was to focus on the people. 

One never feels out of place here, everyone is so welcoming and kind. When we asked them if we could take a few pictures they were overjoyed with excitement. This is truly a departure from the usual expressions a street photographer is used to. Moving around from dimly lit alleyways to bright sunshine, adjusting my exposure and compensating for the sudden increase of light – there’s surely variety to be had in terms of the scenery offered. Seeing the shutter count increase by the second pushes you to be more conservative and think before pressing the button.

There is something special about old school markets and their warmth. And it’s similar to the difference between film and digital photography. When compared to modern shopping centers and their fancy shops, bazaars often offer a more analog approach to things. You interact more, learn more, see and smell and feel more, and the visuals are just breathtaking. 

Street Photography for me has always been about being “there.” It’s about being present in the moment, both mentally and emotionally. Understanding people’s sentiments and capturing what goes unnoticed to the untrained eye. There’s no right or wrong way to do street photography, there’s just the art form in itself, and the photographer making that art. Following any presumptions or rules for street is as I feel, not fair to the genre. Each scene demands its own attention and its own unique way of freezing the ephemeral locale. Go ahead break some rules, underexpose a few shots and find your own style, all while getting lost and exploring your local communities and markets. The experience will be worth it.  

After about five hours of scouring the market, our dead feet suggested that we call it a day, especially considering the long journey that lay between us and our comfortable beds. Sitting in the train and thinking back to the day’s experience made me realize many things, most important of which is that the world that we live in is a constant reminder of the saying “The best photographs move you – emotionally, intellectually and spiritually. There’s almost a visceral reaction to a really striking photograph that communicates on all those levels”. With two rolls of exposed film in hand and countless memories, it was almost certain that I would be back for more.

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We asked him some questions. He answered. And we hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for joining us. Please introduce yourself to our readers.

My Name is Ali. I’m forty-three years old. I currently live in San Diego CA (since 2004). I was born and raised in Paris, France.  

When did you start shooting? What’s your favorite camera, and why do you love it? What type of film do you use, and why?

I started shooting seriously in 2012. Before that, I used to take pictures that I would use as reference for my first artistic endeavor, hand drawn illustration and later on, digital painting. 

As far as camera goes, I shot with many brands over the years and it’s difficult to choose a particular model as my favorite. All served their purpose at the time of their use. If I had to chose one that stood out, I’d say any Leica Ms (digital and film) more because it was such a unique shooting experience. I’ve shot with other rangefinders (Canonet QL17 GIII and Olympus XA) but Leicas are on another level as far as build quality goes. 

Since I never got to use Kodachrome, I use Ektar 100. I love the vivid colors coming out of it. Like Kodachrome, it brings out and accentuates whatever colors are present in the scene. 

What are your favorite subjects, and why?

I don’t really have any. I’ll shoot anything that captures my interest. It has to be aesthetically pleasing to my eye and it usually involves good lighting conditions, colors, shapes and gesture. 

Why do you shoot film? Do you also shoot digital? What do you think are the greatest or most important differences between film photography and digital imaging?

When I first shot film it was because it was the only option since digital wasn’t yet invented. Later on, I chose film mostly because I like the look. All my favorite pictures were shot on film, mostly the sadly-defunct Kodachrome. For financial reasons, time constraint and because I like to be prolific (I shoot almost every day), I shoot mainly digital and shoot film for rare or intimate occasions like family and friends. 

In the world of photography, the aim of the photographer is to capture the moment and whether or not he/she uses a film or digital camera shouldn’t matter that much. 

Besides the obvious technical differences, both media work the same way when you consider the lighting conditions and background. But there are advantages in each that appeal to different photographers. Different doesn’t mean better or worse, it just means different, despite what some purists might say. You enjoy the process of shooting, developing, scanning film, or you prefer the instant feedback of digital. And there’s nothing wrong with either. In the end, we are all photographers; a bunch of weirdos pressing a button that’s connected to a box that stops time in the form of a picture.  

What do you consider to be unique about your photography?

It’s unique in that I see mostly with telephoto eyes so my work reflect that vision. I love the compression and the ability to stack layers on top of each others. I also like my lines straight with zero distortion. More recently, many of my images are shot at 300mm, which is unconventional, especially when shooting on the streets. Using a telephoto lens also allows me to surgically extract elements out of the landscape and accentuate a sense of scale. When you combine all these elements, it gives your body of work a unique look. I’m aware that I’m in a minority. 

How do you achieve your best results?

For me, it comes down to two things; improving your “eye” (or the way you see the world around you) and pre-visualization (knowing in advance how the image will look). 

Do you have any advice for new photographers?

Yes. As much as you can, always take a camera with you and shoot, shoot, shoot. It’s cliché but there is no other way to master photography. Mastery only comes with practice. So, practice a lot. 

On the days you can’t take pictures, look around you for photo opportunities. Look at the light, colors, shapes, etc. To quote Elliott Erwitt “Photography is an art of observation. It has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.” 

Don’t get too caught up with camera equipment and all the technical stuff. The sooner you get the technical aspect of photography out of the way, the sooner you can focus on finding your own shooting style and look. 

Beginners (and even intermediates) always ask “What type of camera and lens did you use?” and, “What software did you use to post process this shot?” It’s like asking great painters what type of brushes and canvas they use. Gear does matter but it can become a huge distraction that will end up wasting your time and money if you focus on it too much.  

If your photos sucks, it’s because of you, not the gear. Upgrade yourself.   

Where do you hope your photography goes from here?

I definitely want to publish photo books, each with a coherent body of work. Teaching a workshop is something that interest me as well. My approach would be more philosophical than technical.

Where can people see more of your images?

My two Instagram accounts here and here, my Flickr, and my Tumblr. 

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