I’ve been out twice in the past week, and both times the conditions quietly nudged me toward abstraction.
- Not as a strategy.
- Not as a decision made in advance.
- But as a response.
Flat winter light. Snow muting detail. Motion overwhelming description. These are the kinds of days where forcing clarity feels dishonest, and abstraction becomes less of an aesthetic choice and more of an act of listening. I’ve written before about how the photograph often forms after we stop insisting on control (The Space Where the Photograph Forms), and this past week felt like a reminder of that truth.
Yesterday was my second photographic session of 2026.
I went out with a simple goal: come back with one image. One frame that could hold its own inside the abstract street portfolio I’ve begun shaping more intentionally (Building an Abstract Street Portfolio: Alignment Without Imitation).
Instead, I came home with three.
One Was the Goal. Three Were the Result.
The three colour images from yesterday weren’t planned as a set. They emerged from the same walk, the same light, the same state of attention. They are siblings, not duplicates—each carrying a slightly different weight, tempo, and emotional register.
That matters.
I’m trying to build a body of work, not chase isolated moments. I’ve spent enough time thinking about sequencing, cohesion, and visual conversation to know that a portfolio doesn’t grow linearly (The Art of Creating a Portfolio). Some sessions give you nothing. Others give you more than you expected.
Yesterday happened to be the latter.
I’m pleased with the outcome, but I’m also aware of how deceptive that feeling can be. Productivity has a way of distorting expectations. A fruitful session does not guarantee momentum. The next walk could leave me empty-handed—and that has to be acceptable if this project is going to be honest.
Colour, Black and White, and Differentiation
Up to now, I’ve been leaning heavily into black and white as my default palette for abstract street work. It simplifies decisions. It removes distraction. It aligns naturally with how I’ve approached much of my street photography over the years.
But the three images from yesterday are in colour—and they matter.
Not because colour is “better,” but because it introduces a different kind of emotional information. The muted winter tones, the warmth against the snow, the subtle contrast between motion and stillness—these things are doing work that black and white might flatten or redirect.
I haven’t committed either way, and I’m intentionally leaving that question open.
What I do recognize is that colour may be one of the clearest ways this project differentiates itself from the work that initially inspired it. Alignment does not require mimicry. If anything, committing too early—to black-and-white or to colour—would be premature. This body of work is still revealing its boundaries.
I’ve learned, repeatedly, that clarity follows commitment, not the other way around (Three Sessions a Week for 105 Weeks).
Walking Without Guarantees
There’s a temptation, especially early in a new year, to read meaning into output. To assume that a strong session signals an upward trajectory. Experience tells me otherwise.
Some of the most important projects I’ve worked on were built slowly, unevenly, and with long stretches of uncertainty. Walking the city has never been about guarantees (Why Walking the City Is Essential to My Urban Photography Practice). It’s about presence, repetition, and trust in the process.
This session doesn’t change the project’s rules. If anything, it reinforces them:
- Show up consistently
- Accept what the conditions give you
- Edit ruthlessly
- Let the work reveal itself over time
I’m not chasing volume. I’m building toward coherence.
Looking Ahead
This was Session Two of 2026. It produced three images I’m happy to stand behind, even though I only asked for one.
That won’t always be the case.
Some sessions will produce nothing worth keeping. Others might yield a single frame that quietly advances the work. A few—like yesterday—may offer more than expected. The discipline is not in celebrating the abundance, but in continuing when it disappears.
That’s the commitment I’m making to this project. And to myself.
Not to outcomes.
But to the work.