Each time you look at a photograph, you relive a point of time that has passed, as if it were frozen. Pictures have that power to make you feel and wonder.

 

For the longest time, I didn’t know what it was about complete strangers that made me want to capture their moments. Perhaps I still don’t. What I do know now is that there’s nothing that gives me more joy than standing on a crowded square, pointing my Pentax in a certain direction, and waiting for a stranger to walk into my frame, and reveal something about themselves.

 

I set out to capture the gritty beauty of everyday life in New York City. The enigma of ordinary moments. In the act of composing, shooting, developing and printing over the past couple of months I’ve become more familiar with myself. When I finally sat down with my prints, I began to see parts of myself in the subjects of my photographs. When you see them, I hope you do too. Shooting on black and white film on these bustling streets I almost felt like I was a miner hunting for muddy stones with diamonds encrusted inside. The analog moving of parts and capturing of light compelled me to make the best of what I had– the rawness of people living their lives. My camera and I were entrusted with the responsibility of recording this time as best we could. So, I learned more about the craft. I learned that I like the jaggedness of 3200 ISO, but that I like the balance of a 400 even more. I learned that a photograph needn’t be crisp and clear, almost textbook like, to evoke a feeling. It only needed to give you a reason to linger on.

 

More than anything else, I want to live sixty seconds worth of a New York minute, and catch glimpses of my own visions in tenuous celluloid. I want it to last forever.