Discarded
Street photography, to me, has always been about seeing the unseen—that which is boldly in front of all of us. I spent years musing after the greats with camera in tow, but I kept noticing food. A single fry. An edible arrangement melting on the curb. Buckets of wings covered in ants.
As my neighborhood changed, so did the discarded. From soup kitchen American cheese slices to seafood bakes and toppled edible arrangements.
It started to feel like the street was talking back. Like I wasn’t just photographing—I was in conversation.
Discarded is a glimpse into that ongoing exchange. It’s not about spectacle. It’s about attention. About what we leave behind, and what it means to notice it.
I think about what it means for an inner city dweller to see these images vs a suburbanite. Are they quirky, or are they evidence we’re in a failed system?
