Street Photography: Week 9

Chicago in October is my paradise. It has been ever since I first experienced it 12 years ago and it remains that way now even in the midst of a global pandemic. For a short time this already beautiful city puts on a magic cloak and everything, even the shots of Malört, gets better. It’s as if every street was designed with these weeks in mind. I was taught to love this time of year from my mother, who lived for yellow leaves, a cool breeze and a box of fudge. Her room was filled with items collected from her solo adventures to the mountain. At the time I didn’t appreciate every brittle leaf or cone she would bring back, not like I do now. She showed me how to love the details in life, that beyond the obvious is the infinite. The irony in all this is that I don’t see life in color very often. My paradise is full of color and I would prefer to show it without. I guess when something is shown exactly as it is the world gets smaller and I lose interest.

This week I struggled to be myself. I kept looking at the world as if it owed me something and most days I returned home somewhat defeated. I keep wanting a years worth of pictures to happen in a single day. Some of that comes from a healthy expectation to make each day count, but most of the time it’s greed coming through when I lose patience. Street photography is a lifelong endeavor, not something I complete in 9 weeks. The Art Institute has been a safe haven for me when I start to overthink everything. They currently have works from W. Eugene Smith, William Eggleston and Henri Cartier-Bresson on display. Three of my favorite photographers who spent their entire life waiting for the next photo. I’m lucky to have access to these legendary works so long as I view them as a guide and not a test.

Below are a few I’m proud of and a few that were more experimental before and after photos — a theme that’s been on my mind recently.