Feeling the Streets

Why do I take photos?

It’s a question that returns every time I go out the door with a camera. Not because I doubt the answer, but because it keeps shifting.

Photography, for me, isn’t just documentation, it’s an ongoing search for something I can’t fully explain, but I know when I feel it.

I didn’t start with photography.

After elementary schools, I studied drawing, shape and color.

At that time I cared more about graffiti, breaking, music and having fun. I wasn’t a great student, but something in those three years rearranged how my brain thinks about creativity.

I learned how to examine myself, my choices, my mistakes, and all the strange little victories that shape you without you noticing.

Later came mindfulness, musicianship, thanks to my father, and painting again. I became a father myself.

My creative world transformed from something loud and physical into something more rooted and still.

I started making portraits, abstract pieces, murals, huge murals. And in the middle of it all, I fell in love with Katinka.

One day she showed me her old Nikon. At first, the mission was simple: photograph our artwork to post online. But I had to take it outside. I had to try it.

One shutter click and I was gone. Hooked. The images were awful, but the feeling, being out there, looking, coming home to work on something completely new, felt beautiful.

And for the first time in years, I felt truly free.

No underground graffiti rules. No unspoken dance culture expectations. No art school theories weighing down creativity. Just a camera, a moment, and my own curiosity.

But as I would learn, freedom also comes with complications.

I dove deep.

f-stops, compositions, film stocks, tips and tricks from a thousand different photographers.

This passion carried me through the quiet days of the pandemic.

I even filmed my first random photography video after an online class, just to see what would happen.

But with all the new knowledge came something familiar: exhaustion. Pressure. Overthinking.

Sometimes I’d be standing in front of a `perfect` scene, light, subject, composition aligned, and feel nothing. And when there’s no feeling, there’s no photo.

This is where Katinka taught me something important.

She shoots by intuition, not rules. She doesn’t care about exposure theory or sliders or technical discussions, she simply feels the image.

That simplicity hit me hard.

A perfectly composed picture without intention falls flat. A technically imperfect one filled with emotion stays with you.

That realization pulled me away from documenting the streets and into feeling the streets.

Of course, that approach also has its challenges. Feeling deeply takes energy.

Some days you just want to watch a movie about nothing. Some days you want a break from the inner world.

But this is when the teachings I’ve read over the years; Tolle and others, come into play.

You don’t have to choose a side. You can shoot purely for feeling one day, and purely for fun the next. You can switch between intention and randomness. No one is keeping score.

Now, when I look at my images, I search for what I felt, not for whether the scene is historically important or culturally heavy.

A powerful story behind a subject can be cool, sure, but for me it isn’t necessary.

Feeling tops everything.

The idea is the key, and always will be.

And like a good friend once said;
“I only wanted to make something beautiful.”

So I go out again. I return to the ordinary world with a camera in hand, but with a clearer sense of why I do it.

I’m not chasing perfection anymore. I’m chasing presence. Honesty. Feel.

The loop continues.

And each time I come back, I return slightly changed, just enough to notice, but not enough to interrupt the rhythm.

A brighter status quo. A freer one.