In the first months of this two-year project has taught me anything, it’s that growth happens in quiet increments, not in sweeping reinventions, but in small, intentional choices made repeatedly until they begin shaping the way you see. Yesterday, on a long photowalk through Toronto, I hit one of those small-but-defining moments — the moment I made my first monochrome street portrait.
And somehow, it felt like a beginning.
City Photographer, Not Just Urban Photographer
If pressed to define my genre, I’d call myself an urban photographer. But the label that feels most accurate — the one that aligns with how I move through Toronto — is city photographer.
The distinction matters.
Urban photography is broad: architecture, reflections, environmental moments, transit lines, shadows, repetition, and the everyday choreography of city life.
But city photography is personal. It’s tied to a place. It suggests belonging.
If it is in Toronto — if it happens here, unfolds here, or exists for even a fraction of a second on these streets — I will photograph it.
And inside that identity are countless sub-genres: candid street scenes, architectural geometry, environmental still-life, documentary rhythm, and yes — street portraiture. A form I’ve admired for years but only now feel ready to pursue with intention.
Monochrome as the Beginning of Clarity
Yesterday’s walk was shaped by the decision I made in my previous post: to build a cohesive black-and-white body of work using a consistent monochromatic approach.
In shifting to the Monochrome L (not an affiliate link) preset, I wasn’t chasing an aesthetic trend. I was looking for discipline — a tonal language that would anchor my work, the same way committing to the 28 mm field of view anchored my compositions.
Monochrome simplifies.
It reduces the photograph to shape, gesture, texture, and presence.
It forces attention.
It refuses distraction.
For the first time, I felt ready to explore street portraiture inside this structure — not as a one-off experiment, but as a new branch of my city photography practice.
Kensington Market: Where Everything Collides
By the time I reached Kensington Market, the city had settled into its afternoon rhythm. Kensington is one of those rare neighbourhoods where energy, culture, and texture collide in every direction. It’s chaotic and cohesive all at once — a place where the unexpected isn’t a surprise.
And then I saw him.
A man seated on a motorcycle. Still. Composed. Unbothered by the surrounding movement. The geometry was impossible to ignore:
the lines of the bike,
the subtle turn of his head,
the weight of the leather jacket,
the chrome catching soft light.
I approached.
I smiled.
I asked if I could make a portrait.
He nodded — no hesitation, no performance, just presence.
The frame came together instantly. The 28 mm field of view pulled me close enough to feel part of the scene while still letting Kensington breathe around him. And in monochrome, the portrait became elemental — stripped of colour, stripped of distraction, reduced to character and form.
This is the first true step toward a monochromatic street portrait portfolio.
Why Street Portraiture Belongs in My Work
Street portraiture sits at a beautiful intersection: where the spontaneity of street photography meets the intimacy of traditional portraiture. It requires negotiation, presence, and a willingness to be momentarily vulnerable. It requires showing up.
And it expands my work in several ways:
It deepens my relationship with Toronto.
Every portrait is a collaboration with a citizen of this city — a moment of connection inside the blur of daily life.
It adds character to my existing body of work.
Architecture and street scenes tell part of the story.
Faces tell another.
It strengthens the development of my photographic voice.
Voice isn’t a slogan — it’s a pattern of decisions.
Street portraiture forces those decisions into focus.
It thrives in monochrome.
Black-and-white elevates the essentials: texture, emotion, structure.
It turns portraits into something timeless rather than topical.
If city photography is the ecosystem, street portraiture is one of its most vital species.
The First Step of Many
This portrait isn’t just an image.
It’s a marker — the first tile in a mosaic that will grow over the next two years as I refine my voice, define my style, and narrow my niche.
By choosing monochrome, I chose clarity.
By choosing 28 mm, I chose presence.
By making this portrait, I chose connection.
The city is full of stories.
Some unfold at a distance.
Some pass without noticing.
And some sit patiently on a motorcycle in Kensington Market, waiting — unknowingly — to become the first portrait of a new chapter.