The hardest part of street photography isn't the gear, the light, or even the timing. It's learning to be comfortable being invisible in plain sight.
Starting out
I started seriously shooting street about four years ago, mostly in Asan and around Indrachowk. My first instinct was to use a long lens — stay far away, stay safe. The results were technically fine but emotionally distant. The compression made everything feel like a zoo exhibit.
I switched to a 35mm and forced myself closer. The first week was uncomfortable. By the second week I'd stopped noticing the discomfort.
The gear question
People ask about gear constantly. The honest answer: it barely matters. I've shot on a Sony A7III with a fast prime and on a Ricoh GR IIIx that fits in a shirt pocket. The Ricoh produces better candid work, because nobody looks twice at it.
The best camera for street is the one people don't notice.
What I'm actually looking for
I'm not looking for decisive moments in the Cartier-Bresson sense — that framing has always felt a bit too grand to me. I'm looking for the unremarkable: someone waiting for a bus, a vendor arranging marigolds, light landing on the wrong thing at the right time.
The city is constantly making photographs. My job is mostly to get out of the way.
On asking permission
I rarely ask. When I do, the photograph is usually ruined by the act of asking — the subject arranges themselves, the spontaneity disappears. I'll happily show someone what I shot afterward if they want to see it. I've never had anyone ask me to delete a photo.
Your mileage will vary. Kathmandu has generally been kind to me.
More frames coming as I process the last few months of shooting.