Midday beneath Chicago’s L, I was looking for extremes — deep blacks, brilliant whites, and the brief flashes of light created by traffic moving through the darkness.
Then I saw him coming — a sharply dressed businessman in a polished black helmet, moving through traffic on a scooter with the urgency of a motorcycle. I wanted to hold him still in the center of the frame while allowing the chaos of the city to blur around him.
He struck me as a distinctly modern figure in the concrete jungle. Ten years earlier, perhaps twenty, this photograph of a Chicago professional might have looked completely different.
But on this day, in this moment, this was Chicago.
Midday beneath Chicago’s L, I was looking for extremes — deep blacks, brilliant whites, and the brief flashes of light created by traffic moving through the darkness.
Then I saw him coming — a sharply dressed businessman in a polished black helmet, moving through traffic on a scooter with the urgency of a motorcycle. I wanted to hold him still in the center of the frame while allowing the chaos of the city to blur around him.
He struck me as a distinctly modern figure in the concrete jungle. Ten years earlier, perhaps twenty, this photograph of a Chicago professional might have looked completely different.
But on this day, in this moment, this was Chicago.