032425. Monday. Hackensack & NYC.

Low Energy.

Today’s pictures taste a little iffy to me. Whether it’s the weather or my lack of sleep does not matter, I just cant fight the sensation of tiredness I felt when I picked up my camera. Most of the images from today (Monday) were shot from the hip. Some say this is not worthy of be called -street- photography, but It was the only way to keep myself engaged in the act of taking pictures.

Sometimes I ask myself if I am making a mistake by shooting pictures everyday. The answer always changes once I get home, edit and upload. Even in the bad photo days I’ve had so far, nothing beats the joy of being ‘done’ with it. Sometimes that joy is matched by what I feel when I get to coin a photograph as my favorite.

032525. Tuesday. Midtown, NYC.

My First Street Photography Fight (?)

Following my low-energy entry from yesterday, I spent a good amount of time at home looking for things that could help me feel a little more engaged with my daily photo walks. After digging through a billion boxes and bags, I crossed paths with my old FUJIFILM Instax Mini, which I hadn’t used—or seen—since I lived on 42nd Street. I bought this particular camera intending to take pictures of whoever visited Tiyana and me in our apartment, then paste them all over our door. Super artsy, I know.

Before leaving my place this morning, I looked at the cameras I had been shooting with so far and decided it was a good day to let them rest—and to be honest, to let myself rest from them. Instead, I grabbed my Instax Mini, knowing I had no film for it and that its batteries were beyond dead. After meeting with some clients in Midtown, I went to 42nd Street Photo—not actually on 42nd Street—to see if they could help me. In a matter of ten minutes, my little Instacam was ready to start shooting.

Avoiding 42nd Street is one of my “musts” when I’m in Manhattan. Grand Central Station, Bryant Park, Port Authority Bus Terminal, and Times Square all share this street number in their addresses, which, year-round, causes perpetual tsunamis of people—and tourists—making it impossible to focus on anything other than walking fast and being annoyed at anyone who doesn’t. Today, though, drawn by the many 42nd Street-related coincidences, I decided to walk to and through Times Square to take pictures. After all, my Instacam only holds ten self-developing frames, which meant that after ten pictures—rather than my usual fifty—I could leave what I call “Hell on LEDs.”

The “ten-exposure thing” ended up being a challenging yet fulfilling lesson for me and my photographic approach. I found myself much more engaged in capturing an essence, truly experiencing my photos rather than just trying to find a well-composed moment. This shift in perspective really helped me see how strict and tense my approach to photography had become after a month of taking pictures every day.

At the corner of Broadway and 42nd, right in front of H&M’s obnoxiously loud corner store, I noticed a group of four very well-dressed individuals having what seemed like a lively conversation. One of them, who had probably been subconsciously picked as their “leader,” reminded me of my dad and how animated his arms get when he’s lecturing about something he loves. Hypnotized by their dynamic exchange, I snapped my seventh picture.

My camera decided that after two years of inactivity, it was time for the flash to work beyond beautifully. Naturally, both they and I hesitated, resulting in a very awkward exchange of looks. Walking away rather quickly, I pretended like nothing had happened.

“YO, dude! YO! YOU took a picture of ME?!”

I felt his hand grab my shoulder, and I composed myself as quickly as possible to calm him down. He was visibly and audibly annoyed, and my failure to stop after the first “YO!” had only made things worse. Apologizing, I explained that the photos were part of a project which I even offered to show him. He kept yelling and demanded to see the photo. I had to explain—several times—that one of these frames takes about five minutes to develop.

He held me in place for about two minutes, growing increasingly rude, while I continued to apologize to him and his friends—who all seemed pretty unbothered. It truly wasn’t my intention to make this man uncomfortable, but given how aggressively he was speaking to me, holding me, and threatening to punch me, I started to believe he was just looking for a reason to start a fight. After what felt like three minutes of waiting for the image to appear, I looked him in the eyes and simply gave the undeveloped frame to him. This confirmed my suspicion—all he wanted was a reason to argue.

“Just keep this. If you like it, frame it. If you don’t, there’s a trash can every 20 steps in this city,” I said.

He stepped closer, threatening to call the cops on me and my “g-ass camera.” He bragged about his reputation, his image, and how he had a better-paying job. I listened, apologized for what felt like the 400th time, and walked away. After following me for another 15 or 25 steps, he finally gave up and returned to his “pack.”

I never got to see the picture, but it now lives in my head.