When the Streets Go Quiet
I like to think of myself as a street photographer. That’s a relatively new development for me.
For years, I photographed blues and jazz musicians — chasing sounds and images at hole-in-the-wall clubs and festival stages. Then, I got into the travel photography groove, and for a while, I even dipped my toes into stock photography.
But over the past several years, I’ve found myself drawn more and more to street photography — even before I realized it had a name.
Fortunately, I was able to spend a lot of time in big cities: London, Madrid, New York, Miami, Los Angeles. It was in these places that I learned most of what I know about the genre, and I’m deeply grateful for those experiences.
Now, though, I find myself living in a much, much smaller city — and the transition has been challenging.
At first, I kept going out with my camera expecting to make the same kinds of images I once captured in those vibrant cities. But day after day, I returned home with nothing I liked. Not one frame.
Eventually, I realized something had to change — and it wasn’t the place. It was my perspective.
I had to accept that I wouldn’t find the same kinds of moments in rural North Carolina that I found on the streets of London or New York. I had to broaden my definition of what street photography meant — and more importantly, I had to start photographing for myself.
Once I did, a new world opened up.
No, I’m not capturing the hustle and bustle of a major city right now. No sweeping light and shadows filtering between skyscrapers and isolating an individual on a busy street. No photographs of dozens of people walking through a crosswalk. But I am discovering the quiet beauty of rural spaces — scenes shaped by human presence, even if there’s no person in the frame.
Is it street photography? I think so.
But more importantly — is it photography that moves me? Yup. And that’s enough for me.
In about six months, I’ll be moving again — this time to a larger U.S. city that will allow me to return to that more classic definition of street photography. But I will carry with me the lessons I’ve learned here. Slowing down. Looking longer. Letting go of expectations. Following curiosity.
This quieter season has changed the way I see. And I know it will stay with me wherever I go next.
Until next time, get out there and capture the world as only you can.
All the best,
Jonathan
