Just saw the Diane Arbus show at Park Avenue Armory. Critics say it omits the fact that she was an upper-class woman photographing people on the margins. I got a different message.

The power dynamic is real, and the exhibition did sidestep it. But after spending time with the pictures, what I saw was intimacy.

🔍 Arbus wrote in a letter to her husband: “I want to photograph everyone.” Her camera landed on the 400-pound man on his couch and teens smoking in the park, the nudist family and the woman alone in a waiting room, the 3-legged circus performer and the old couple kissing on a bench. The dominatrix. People in love, people sitting at home, people existing.

What struck me wasn’t just the oddity, but something closer to complicity.

There’s always a voyeur in us photographers, but Arbus’s real power seemed to be access. Her subjects rarely look surprised or defensive. Their gazes are direct. Proud, frank, complicit, almost piercing. As if they were in on it, not just objects of it.

🚪 Who gets invited into a space without first establishing trust?

The show left out her commercial work (for Esquire, etc.), and I would’ve liked to see how she carried her vision into it. But what I might have found redundant in the composition at first (the deadpan, centered, locked-in posture) was offset by the sheer diversity of her subjects. Maybe that’s the point.

Photographers are always negotiating power and permission.
🔁 Arbus’s legacy reminds us that access isn’t accidental. And that the gaze goes both ways.

(Sometimes)

This past weekend was July 4th weekend. The big show sponsored by Macy’s took place on the East River between Brooklyn & Manhattan, with a whopping production cost of $6 million. I heard about the road closures & wasn’t on assignment that day, so couldn’t get myself to tackle the crowds & barricades…

That’s when I read about the local fireworks planned in Coney Island. Good thing it happened the same evening as Nathan’s Famous hot dog eating contest, which I was planning to photograph at noon. I got to take an editing break in between, heading back out shortly before the evening show.

There were many more people than I had imagined, and I got overwhelmed on the boardwalk. But getting to the beach, I quickly became enchanted by the atmosphere. I stumbled upon V. who was selling $1 sparklers to spectators with her children, and tagged along for a bit.

👉 When a big social event takes place, do you ask yourself what it could look like at a smaller, community scale? At the nearby park? The local diner? Your neighbor’s house?

It helps transform a widely relatable moment—often depicted in similar ways—into something more personal and memorable.

(See more on Instagram: here and here)

While on a family weekend trip, I knew that NYC’s Pride parade was set to take place today. I told myself it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I missed it. And of course, my mind played tricks.

Predictably, 2 minutes into the official start of the event, I started seeing photographers post past pride pictures, as they made their way to this year’s event. Like the universe was trying to give me FOMO. 

In those moments, I pause and try to remind myself:

1. Your break is valid. Family is important to refuel, feel grounded and connected. 

2. Comparison is a trap. It’s a natural human reaction and helps us improve over time, but going unchecked, it can be a real killjoy. Someone else is probably even comparing themselves to you right now. Pauline Mauroux wrote it in her newsletter: Comparing yourself yields two outcomes—1/ You suck. 2/ They suck. Productive, hey?

3. Missing one event doesn’t erase your entire body of work. Our value as creatives doesn’t mean we need to be everywhere all at once. Being selective can actually be powerful.

4. Being intentional with how you spend your time. You’re simply choosing which opportunities make sense for you in this moment, rather than running after every event and opportunity like a headless chicken. 

5. What are the quieter stories? Perhaps some of those highly visible events are not where you ought to be. Perhaps there’s a small, more intimate story to tell right where you are. 

In the spirit of this, here’s a pride picture from 2022 (!) The year I met Jordana, a dear friend who changed my life by encouraging me to go to ICP. 

Happy rest to me! Happy Pride to all!