A deep dive into my approach to street photography: from visual triggers and gear choices to ethical considerations and favourite locations. It’s about candid moments, creative patience, and showing the world as I see it — one untold story at a time.
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I'm drawn to street photography because it's life. It's unscripted, unposed (mostly), and full of genuine human moments. There’s no model, no set, no stylists or direction — just the world as it is, and how I see it. As photographers, we notice things others don’t. Street is how I communicate what I see. It’s my way of telling untold stories, or at least offering the first half and leaving the rest up to your imagination.
From the moment I first picked up a camera, this was the kind of image I wanted to make. I wasn’t interested in group shots or posed portraits. I wanted to photograph people mid-conversation, halfway through a bite of food, lost in their own moment. Something real. And over time, as I’ve become more intentional, I’ve broken that instinct down to its essence — a combination of timing, composition, and presence.
I don’t come from a formal art background, but creativity’s always been at the core of what I do — through music (I’m a singer-songwriter and have been playing in bands since the ‘90s), and through design (25 years in web and UX design, translating human experience into digital spaces). Photography, and especially street, is just another way to interpret how I see the world.
I shoot as often as I can. I walk everywhere. And when I walk, I look. Not always with a camera in hand, but with a mindset that’s tuned to light, shape, and serendipity. Some days, your photographic eye just doesn’t fire — it’s like songwriting. You can’t force it. But I’ve learned a few tricks to help get my head in the right space:
Sometimes I’ll find a scene and just wait. There are walls, alleys, or bits of graffiti in York that I return to again and again, waiting for the right person to walk into frame. It's fishing. It’s patience. You anticipate, you visualise, and when the right elements align, you click.
Street photography comes with its ethical questions. Legally, it’s simple: there’s no expectation of privacy in public. Ethically, it’s a little murkier — but I have personal guidelines:
That said, my goal is to be unnoticed. Not easy when you're 6'4" and built like a prop forward. Ironically, I’ve found that carrying a big camera makes me seem less suspicious. People assume I’m photographing something else — not them. But when I carry a tiny camera, people stare. Go figure.
Over the years I’ve moved through various systems, but I’ve always leaned toward prime lenses — typically around 50mm when I started. These days, I’ve settled into two main setups:
Small, sharp, reliable. 40mm equivalent focal length. Perfect when I don’t want to carry a bag, or just want to shoot low-profile. I’m considering adding the GRIII for a wider 28mm field of view.
My current main setup, with a few go-to lenses:
I typically stick with one lens per outing, unless I feel creatively stuck — in which case I’ll switch. Of course, as soon as I do, I’ll see a photo that would’ve been perfect for the lens I just took off. Classic.
Street photography can be practiced anywhere — that’s the beauty of it. But stepping out of your well-worn routines can reignite your eye. That doesn’t mean you have to fly to another continent (although I’ll never say no to an overseas adventure). Even just hopping on a bus to a nearby town, seeing different faces, signage, light, and movement — it’s often enough to shake you out of a rut and remind you why you shoot in the first place.
Street photography makes you a better photographer. It trains your eye, sharpens your reflexes, and teaches you to anticipate. It teaches patience. It gets you comfortable with failure, with imperfection, with not being in control. And, perhaps most importantly, it keeps you curious — about people, about light, about what’s just around the corner.
It’s a way to document life as it unfolds, without needing to stage or direct it. To show what the world looks like, just for a moment, through your eyes.
And for me, that’s enough.
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