I was teaching a workshop, and we were deep in the heart of Queens, soaking up the local vibe. The light was fantastic, and we were initially captivated by the geometry and reflections of some old, worn mirrors mounted right on the outside wall of a local barbershop. We were all focused, framing our shots, when the front door swung open and the shop owner stepped out. Immediately, my stomach dropped—I was certain he was going to be annoyed that we were photographing his business.
But instead of scolding us, he simply smiled and said, with genuine warmth, "Do you want to come inside and take pictures?"
In an instant, the workshop moved from a lesson in composition to an immersive experience in community. We were ushered into the warm, buzzing atmosphere of the shop. The scent of bay rum and talcum powder hung in the air, mixing with the low hum of clippers and friendly conversation. We had access to incredible, candid moments: the classic swivel chairs, the light filtering through the vintage glass, the tools of his trade. And to top it all off, he sent one of his staff out immediately to buy a round of hot tea for all of us!
People are truly amazing sometimes! That unexpected act of generosity turned a good day into an unforgettable one. The students definitely came away with more than they ever could have imagined—not just technically strong photos, but an incredible story and a profound memory of being welcomed into a stranger's daily life. It was a powerful, beautiful reminder of why the real classroom is out there on the streets. The joy of spontaneous human interaction and the richness it adds to our lives—and our art—will never be replaced by anything digital or sterile. It’s the heart and soul of photography.