TrueAnonPod

Crackpots #47: Cathedrals Everywhere

Added 2025-09-22 00:43:13 +0000 UTC

Hello friends,

Yung Chomsky here again. If you happen to follow me elsewhere on the internet, you will likely be unsurprised to learn that I have more thoughts on photography this month. In my last contribution to Crackpots, I talked about Gear Guys. A Gear Guy is someone who is more focused on his tools than on his craft. Tools do matter, but often in ways that are harder to define than the stats and specs the Gear Guy likes to focus on. The relationship between the artist and their tool cannot be easily quantified, but it’s real. Last time I talked about my first forays into photography via the iPhone and an old 35mm point-and-shoot. As I’ve continued to learn and develop my skills, my relationship to those tools has evolved. I’ve had the same phone for a few years, but I take photos with it differently than I used to. The 35mm taught me to think more carefully about composition, but I may have swung the pendulum too far — I started taking months and months to finish a roll of film because I was waiting for the perfect shot, too afraid of wasting exposures. I rarely brought the camera with me and didn’t take chances with it, so my growth stagnated.

I often remind myself that what matters most is committing; everything else will follow. Sometimes the right tool can facilitate that commitment in ways that don’t show up on the spec sheet. The iPhone can take very impressive photos from a technical perspective, but does using it make you feel like a photographer? Maybe, maybe not. Form factor makes a real difference. As silly as it may feel to acknowledge, taking photos on a phone doesn’t feel very chic. I bought an Instax Mini Evo; it’s a digital camera attached to a mini photo printer. The iPhone has a better screen and a better camera sensor. A Gear Guy might argue that it’s pointless, but I like the way it feels in my hands. I like that it doesn’t vibrate with push notifications, that I can’t look at Twitter on it. Musicians often face similar situations: I have a Roland JU-06A, which is a miniature virtual analog (read: digital emulation) version of the famous Juno synthesizers from the 1980s. It’s just a computer, albeit a single-purpose one. My laptop, a general-purpose computer, has much more processing power and flexibility, and could, in theory, produce the same end results. But I like the way the Instax feels, and its design leads me in directions I might not otherwise go. And it doesn’t have a web browser.

TrueAnon guests, shot on Instax Mini Evo

I recently went to a small venue to hear my friend Soraya's band perform. When I got to the door and told the doorman I was on the list, he saw my camera and asked me if I was a photographer. It seemed like a simple question, but I suddenly felt tongue-tied. I was going to take photos, yes. But what exactly was he asking? Did he want to know whether I took photographs for a living, or for any money at all? (I don’t.) Did he want to know if I had been invited specifically to take photos of the show? (I hadn’t.) I mumbled an equivocation and went inside.

Night Talks performing at Berlin in NYC, shot on X100VI

Gina: You're still afraid. You are not a man.
Jerry: Well then what are all those ties and sport jackets doing in my closet?
— Seinfeld S03E15, “The Suicide”

Of course the answer was yes: I’m a photographer. Otherwise, why do I carry this camera everywhere? It’s important to make creative work as convenient as possible to engage in. My synths are always wired up and ready to play, and now my camera is with me wherever I go. The one I’ve been using lately is a Fujifilm X100VI. I’ve found it very capable and inspiring, although it may not be the ideal camera for you. There are lots of great options on the new and used market, and this is not a buying guide. I like that the X100VI is relatively small and light. I got an adjustable Kodak strap that lets me carry it across my body. It stays out of the way, but it’s ready whenever I need it. There’s a comfort in the sensation of it hanging at my hip. Maybe this is how gun guys feel.

Everyday carry

Being a beginner is both exciting and frightening: exciting because there’s so much to learn and progress comes quickly; frightening because of the constant awareness of your ambition outstripping your ability. And declaring yourself a beginner something — photographer, poet, guitarist, powerlifter — means having the temerity to call yourself that something in the first place, as opposed to someone who would say they’re merely doing rather than being. That act of identification, you fear, makes you vulnerable to criticism, dismissal, derision. Of course this type of thinking is a mistake, a mirage, and an impediment to growth. Recently I was with a friend and I was trying to shoot a portrait of him. He asked me if I usually do posed photos or candids. I said: I’m still figuring out what I do.

Manhattan, shot on X100VI

A little bit of time has passed, and while I enjoy and appreciate many genres and approaches, I’m most interested in street photography right now. I think I used to have an aversion to that label for reasons that are a little difficult to pinpoint. Maybe it’s that I didn’t like the sort of guy I imagined might call himself a street photographer. Of course, I also don’t like the sort of guy who I imagine might associate himself with many of my other interests. Maybe that annoying guy in my head isn’t real — maybe I invented him in order to keep myself from trying something and risking failure. In any case, it turns out street photography isn’t just about motioning for women to remove their headphones and telling them they’d be prettier if they smiled; it’s about capturing the unscripted moments that play out in public spaces. Street photography in New York City is a cliche, but for good reason.

Manhattan, shot on X100VI

I find walking around and taking photos very meditative, even therapeutic. Like many other things that interest me, it involves a combination of technical knowledge and creativity — the intersection of art and technology, if you will. There’s a productive tension between the solitary nature of the act and the way it requires immersion in and attention to the world. I’ve realized that taking good photos requires being without headphones or earbuds, which feels strange and radical if you’re anything like me. I’ve taken the idea further and started keeping my phone in a bag away from my person, or even leaving it at home.

Street photography is improvisational. It requires the photographer to anticipate moments before they happen, and to act quickly. They must be technically fluent enough to capture a scene with little notice. I tend to seek control in my life and in my art. I like to take my time, ruminate, tweak, polish, think through all the possibilities and choose the strongest one. That’s not possible in street photography — you can’t control the light or the subjects. With the X100VI, you can't control the focal length either — its lens is built-in and doesn't zoom. This makes it less flexible than cameras with interchangeable lenses, but it's also one less thing I have to worry about. Instead I can focus on training my eye to recognize a good image, the way a musician trains their ear.

Brooklyn, shot on X100VI

Street photography requires confidence and patience. Some people will share photos of buildings and call it street photography, but purists will remind them that street photography is about people. Beginners tend to take a lot of photos of people’s backs, or from far away. One of the beautiful things about living in a city is the complex interplay between private and public existence, and that is what good street photography captures.

I used to think it was pointless to try and take interesting photos because so many people had already done it. What could I possibly have to add, I thought. Why go to Water Street and take the billionth photo of the Manhattan Bridge?

Brooklyn, shot on the X100VI

But this is just another justification for not trying. To paraphrase: This is my photo. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Besides, the capacity of the world to be visually striking is limitless. How many photos have I seen in my lifetime? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? And yet every day I see new photos that make me stop and catch my breath and say “Oh, wow.”

Credit where it’s due: Jordan Peterson was cooking when he wrote that there are cathedrals everywhere for those with the eyes to see. I like photographs that render the mundane beautiful. William Eggleston is known for this. I got one of his books, William Eggleston’s Guide. Here are a couple of my favorite photos from that book:

William Eggleston

I recently watched a documentary about Saul Leiter. He spent most of his life in New York City, taking street photographs. The documentary is called In No Great Hurry: 13 Lessons In Life with Saul Leiter. It’s a long interview with him, recorded in 2010 and 2011, as he went about organizing his storage space. He died in 2013 at age 89. I found the film very charming. I got a book of his photographs and I find it almost overwhelming to flip through because there are so many striking images; I have to go very slowly. Here are a couple that I love:

Saul Leiter, "Snow," 1970

Saul Leiter, "Haircut," 1956

I had my first slightly contentious photography interaction the other day. I was walking back to my apartment and I saw a firetruck and a crowd of people a block away, so I walked closer. I saw one of the firefighters getting into the truck and took his photo:

Brooklyn, shot on the X100VI

The firefighter in the photo looked at me and said, “You know, you should ask someone before you take their photo.” I said, “Do you want to pose for one”? He said, “That depends, what’s it for?” I shrugged and said, “I’m a photographer.” In hindsight I’m not really sure why that response satisfied him, but it seemed like it did. He gathered his buddies together and they posed for the camera. I showed them the picture, said thanks, and went on my way.

Towards the end of the In No Great Hurry, Leiter says that his work was about searching for beauty, and he sees no reason to apologize for that. While I wouldn’t go so far as to call the search for beauty the highest pursuit there is, it is perhaps the one that feels most within my grasp. I want to pursue truth, justice, and equality, and I’m going to try; but I’m not naive about the extent to which I can bring those things about. On the other hand, I’m very confident that there’s unending beauty waiting for me just outside my door, and I’m slowly getting better at finding it.

Here are a few more photos I've taken so far in September:

Brooklyn, shot on X100VI