There is a specific kind of silence that only falls over a city when it’s blanketed in white. For most, a snowstorm is a cue to head indoors, grab a blanket, and wait for the plow. For me? That’s when the city finally starts to get interesting.
Photographing in the snow isn't just about the visual—it’s about the atmosphere. The chaos of the streets is muffled, the grit is smoothed over, and New York (or wherever the storm finds me) transforms into a living noir film.
Yes, the gear gets wet. Yes, my fingers usually lose feeling by the second hour. But there’s a grit and a physical connection to the environment that you just don't get on a sunny Tuesday. You’re out there with the commuters struggling against the wind and the kids seeing the first flakes fall.
When you capture a moment in a blizzard, you aren't just taking a photo—you’re documenting the city’s resilience. There’s a raw, fleeting beauty in the cold. You just have to be willing to get a little frozen to find it.
