While work (more on that specifically, in another post) leaves less time to shoot for myself, the pounding of pavement always makes time for street images.  

On the street, where millions of New Yorkers find and lose, make a life and end a life. Where steps become the inherent mode of transportation between wheel, track, and wing. To home, to work, and in between.


The street photographer is either meek or menacing. In their approach of the decisive frame, they stalk prey and attempt to capture it quietly without notice, or loudly with the pop and flash like muzzle fire.

Between action and capture the action is symbiotic and parasitic. The camera depends on the actions of strangers, and without the capture of the action one will not remember the banal average, and the freakish abnormality.