Field Notes from the Street

An image becomes possible through the meeting of the photographer, the people and their gestures — always unique, even when they seem the same — the places — always distinct, even when they look alike — all in that exact moment. Street photography is made of spontaneous, unrepeatable moments.

Still, even though street photography is shaped by what cannot be repeated, it can also unfold through a kind of mapping — a practice that allows us photographers to “predict the future.” That is: to know that at a certain time of day, the sun hits in a specific way, casting particular shadows; that a certain street fills with people coming home from work, carrying their exhaustion; that at a certain spot, reflections on glass fuse the inside and the outside, creating layered scenes.

I once read an interview with Gustavo Minas where he talks about the importance of learning to “work close to home.” He mentions that while we can take amazing photos when we travel — and indeed, many incredible images are made in that context — photographing the places we know intimately, the ones we return to over and over, sometimes allows us to go beyond scratching the surface.

In my practice of mapping the city, I keep a field journal where I jot down and sketch the patterns and movements I observe in its everyday life. Sometimes, I don’t have my camera with me, but I still “archive” scenes — noting the time when a certain pattern of shadow appears, for example — and I return later, hoping to find that same setup. But I’m always open to the untamable element that enters the frame, even in familiar places.

Because if photographers can predict the future, a good photo is also one where that prediction is interrupted by the world’s unpredictability.