Before I fell in love with photography, I fell in love with street photography. The concept of documenting street life by arranging it into compositions that bring intrigue to ordinary subject matter is what first inspired me to pick up a camera.
I discovered this passion during the time I spent studying in Amsterdam. In the Dutch capital city, there's no shortage of eye-catching characters to capture on camera, but because I was a novice who'd only recently learned how to fully operate the manual controls of a modern DSLR, I only returned from the trip with a handful of images I was proud of. I quickly learned that because of street photography's improvisational nature, most of the images I'd take wouldn't work out the way I wanted them to; Henri Cartier-Bresson, arguably the most renowned street photographer of all time, famously mused that if he returned home with one good, usable image after a full day of shooting, it was a successful day. This daunted me as I walked along Amsterdam's canals and biked through its park, camera slung around my neck, as prepared as I could be to capture an interesting scene or composition should I come across one.
When I returned to New York, though, I paused on street photography. I'd been able to compile enough decent work to catch the eye of creative agencies I'd worked with in the past, so I was quickly hired as a freelance photographer to shoot lifestyle, food, and hospitality projects. These required large amounts of time and a ton of coordination with clients to ensure that their vision for a given project came to life through my lens. While I was grateful for the opportunity to use my craft to gain income and diversify my portfolio, I regret that the time I spent developing my client work detracted from my longing to get out onto the street and shoot carelessly as I once had.
Since my transition to film, though, my love for street photography has been reinvigorated. The medium of film, though, presents even more challenges to the art form. For one, I'd often relied on my DSLR's ability to burst-shoot several frames per second, which made it simple to find a compelling backdrop, wait, and fire away once an interesting subject came into my frame. While my bulky Nikon D610 intimidated potential subjects, causing them to stay away from me, burst shooting allowed me to capture a perfect stride or interesting gesture without having to worry about snapping the shutter at exactly the right moment, and the ability to view my shots on the camera's rear screen made it simple to choose the best frame and delete all the others in the field.
Since a 35mm film camera can only capture one frame at a time, though, this technique is impossible to implement on film; I learned exactly how much of a crutch it'd been the first time I walked the street with my Pentax. This isn't to say, though, that using a small, retro-looking film camera doesn't have its perks for street shooting. I've even noticed that people on the street tend to react far more positively to having a lens pointed at or near them if it's mounted on a retro-looking film camera. It's my guess that most pedestrians who see me with my Pentax assume I'm a photography student or aspiring artist, neither of which is untrue.
Below are a few frames from my second roll of Ilford HP5 black & white film that I was very happy with after they were scanned and sent to me. Though I only liked a select few of the street photographs taken on this roll, it's inspired me to become more selective with the moments I choose to fire my shutter, if only to save cash (one roll of 36 frames costs $20 to be scanned and sent over by a professional film developer).
This shot, taken through the bars of Vincent Ciccarone Park on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, showed me just how agreeable subjects can be when you're out shooting with a small, friendly film camera instead of an enormous press-like DSLR. At this playground, I'd noticed a host of seniors who remind me of my Sicilian relatives, playing checkers and bocce in the midday sun. The Stoic facial expression and casual posture of the man on the bench, facing the street and watching, inspired me to take this photograph. The feeling I had in my stomach when taking this photo was exhilarating. He didn't scowl at me and turn away as many had in the past when I was shooting digital; he maintained his posture and stared down my lens, almost posing for the photograph. When I snapped the shutter and lowered the camera, the man waved at me and I walked away so energized that I forgot to pick up the sandwich I'd ordered from Tino's Deli minutes earlier.
I took this photograph under the newly-installed structure that overhangs the entrances directly to the Metro-North tracks on Fordham Road. I'd always been interested in the ways people interacted with architecture, and had been wanting to get a shot of someone sitting in the crook of this V-shaped structure for quite a while. When the girl talking on her mobile phone turned and noticed me, though, she became the dominant subject in my frame. My attraction to this photo may mean that I should experiment with only snapping the shutter once a subject discovers I'm looking at them, rather than capturing completely candid moments as I'd been used to.
This image was actually a suggestion made by my girlfriend Kaitlyn, who actually was one of my initial inspirations to advance my photography. I've been fascinated by dark silhouettes in photography as of late; this interest has mainly been spurred by the work of street photographer Craig Whitehead. I was drawn to the symmetry and mystery created by the light and dark portions of this composition, so I chose to include it here.
This isn't a street photograph, but I decided to include it because it was my favorite image on this roll of film. I made this portrait of my girlfriend Kaitlyn as she sat on a bench in the New York Botanical Garden. While the composition isn't perfect, I absolutely adore her slight smile and the way the shadows, made by harsh afternoon sunlight, fall acoss her face.