There was a moment when I realised that the concept street photography began to bother me. Not because the genre has become less appealing, on the contrary. The passion remains.
Street photography remains one of the purest forms of photography for me. It is about observing, reacting, and feeling the rhythm of a city. However, the space to do so has changed. The world has become more aware of privacy, and that awareness has subtly influenced the way we photograph on the street. People react differently. Sometimes kindly, sometimes suspiciously, sometimes just uncertainly. And I completely understand that, because rules such as the GDPR have shifted the tone of the conversation. Not always justifiably, but noticeably. The question of whether you are allowed to photograph someone comes up more quickly than the question of why you are photographing someone. And in that shift, I am slowly losing some of the freedom I used to feel.
At the same time, I notice that street photography For many participants in my workshops, it was increasingly seen as a narrow niche. A corner of photography where you mainly have to capture quick moments, preferably with people in the picture, preferably with a bit of excitement. As if there is a secret recipe you have to learn in order to count. As if street photography needs a stamp to be valuable. I feel less and less at home there. I notice that I want something that goes beyond chasing random moments. Something that has more layers. More direction. More room for my own interpretation and intention.
One day, somewhere in a busy city where I was walking with a group of participants, I realised that the most beautiful conversations that day were not about technique or capturing moments, but about ideas. About emotion. About themes such as silence, light, patterns, struggle, hope, humour. About why someone actually takes photographs. Those are the moments that really stick with me. The moments when someone doesn't ask how you can react faster, but how you can look deeper.
That's where the idea arose to no longer focus my workshops on street photography as a genre, but on conceptual photography on the street. A very subtle shift perhaps, but a fundamental one in how you look and how you work. Conceptual photography feels like a liberation to me. It is a way of working in which the idea, the word, the feeling you choose becomes the starting point for everything you capture. Where you are not only looking for moments, but for meaning. For a series that grows. Towards a project that lasts longer than the workshop itself.
In my own photography, I notice that I increasingly feel the need to build on something. Not to jump from image to image, but to slowly form a story that surprises even me. Conceptual photography gives me that. It brings peace to the search. It gives direction to the wandering. I notice that when I have a key word in my head, the city reveals itself to me differently. Everything I say is filtered through that word. Interaction. Stillness. Rhythm. Struggle. Hope. Difference. Whatever you choose, it determines how you look. It makes your photography more personal, more honest, deeper. And honestly, it makes me fall in love again with walking through a city, with what is basically street photography.
When I cautiously began giving conceptual assignments during my workshops (emotion, interaction), something changed in the dynamics. Participants began to talk differently. The conversations were less about settings and more about looking and seeing. Less about rules and more about intention. What I liked most was that people were less concerned with what they were or were not allowed to photograph, but with what they wanted to photograph. For me, that is truly liberating within a genre that sometimes too much under legal scrutiny. We consider Ed van der Elsken a great example, but we no longer dare to take the photographs he took. Within conceptual photography, the focus is shifting from who is in the photograph what you are trying to say. The presence of people is no longer a requirement, but a possibility, an addition. They become extras.
I also notice that many participants long for something they can follow over the long term. A project they can still enjoy months later. A common thread that guides them through periods of doubt, searching and development. In fact, it makes them continue to take photographs, even on days when inspiration seems far away. Conceptual photography helps with this. It gives you a framework to which you can add something new with every walk. It forces you to make more conscious choices and therefore look more deeply. And that is exactly what makes photography interesting to me: the slow process of surprising yourself.
My own quest lies somewhere in between. I want to grow. To look further than I was used to. And I notice that this way of working continues to challenge me. I see patterns that I didn't see before. I see connections. I see small details that I would otherwise have overlooked. It's as if the city itself enters into a conversation with you as soon as you've chosen a direction. You don't just learn to take photographs, you learn listen to the city. And I want everyone to experience that feeling. That's why my workshops have become what they are today. I just didn't know how to explain it until I came across the concept of conceptual photography came across. It's not that I'm leaving street photography behind, but I believe that the street becomes infinitely richer as soon as you walk through it with an idea..
The choice for conceptual photography on the street is therefore not a departure from the genre, but rather a deepening of it. A broadening. A way to circumvent the limitations that street photography sometimes faces today, while at the same time getting much closer to its essence.
Because ultimately, for me, photography is about giving meaning to what you see. About searching for stories that resonate with you. About growing, even if you don't know exactly where it's going.
And that is why I offer these workshops Because I believe that conceptual work broadens your perspective. Because the street is an infinite backdrop that can be interpreted differently every day. And because I see how participants, myself included, find new energy as soon as an idea comes into play. I want to help people start a project that lasts longer than a day. Something you can return to. Something that nourishes you. Something that makes you proud. The street is the perfect place for that, but it is your perspective that tells the story.
That look, I'd be happy to work on that together.