In 2021, Jonah Markowitz took an interest in the section of Kensington, Brooklyn, known as “Little Bangladesh.” He hasn’t stopped visiting.

Though he grew up just a few miles away, Jonah Markowitz, a photographer and documentarian based in Brooklyn, knew little about the neighborhood of Kensington before 2021. That’s when he noticed, in New York City data from the year before, that an outsize portion of applications for new business licenses came from the area that included Kensington.

So he began to check out the neighborhood, which had been a hub of Bangladeshi life in the city since the 1970s. Mr. Markowitz expected to start a project about economic trends in an immigrant community.

Instead, he spent almost two and a half years visiting the same corner in Kensington, working on a portrait of the quiet transformation of a New York City neighborhood.

Mr. Markowitz’s effort, which was published by the Metro desk this week, provided an intimate look at one of the city’s biggest Bangladeshi communities. With photographs, videos and text, Mr. Markowitz introduced readers to a street corner where newcomers seek work in construction and food delivery, and the Muslim faithful take up nearly an entire city block during Eid al-Fitr services.

“Sometimes we get numb to reorganizing of neighborhoods, of societies around us,” Mr. Markowitz said. “This project is in some way an antidote to that.”

After a few trips to Kensington, Mr. Markowitz pitched the idea to Jeffrey Furticella, a photo editor on the Metro desk. Mr. Furticella said he had a soft spot for stories about New York’s evolution.

“One of my main hopes that I discuss with photographers at the outset is to create a time capsule of a moment,” Mr. Furticella said. “New York is always changing, for better and for worse. Communities evolve, businesses come and go. Nothing lasts forever, and I think one of the great responsibilities of the Metro desk is to provide a historical record of a city that draws global curiosity.”

Mr. Markowitz said his reporting was slow going at first. He was stymied by language and cultural barriers.

“There’s a hesitancy to let outsiders in and, vice versa, there’s a hesitancy for outsiders to spend a lot of time there, frankly,” he said. “It took a fair amount of being present and showing up every day for them to trust that I was invested in the story.”

Mr. Markowitz visited Kensington about 75 times throughout the course of the project. He went to restaurants, private homes and local businesses. He tagged along on delivery rides, attended religious services and observed dance performances, all to glean more insight on the lives, values, worldviews and experiences of those who live in Kensington.

“By spending that amount of time, we were able to explore all these layers,” Mr. Furticella said, “these important themes of labor, the immigrant experience and political influence, of changing norms in a cultural environment where it’s heavily male-dominant, but women are increasingly creating space for themselves.”

Karen Zraick, a reporter on the Metro desk, and Samira Asma-Sadeque, a freelance writer based in New York, provided additional reporting from the neighborhood. Ms. Asma-Sadeque, who is Bangladeshi American, reveled in exploring the everyday routines of the area. “It’s just about a community existing, about daily, ordinary life,” she said. “That is the beauty of it for me.”

After several months of reporting, Mr. Markowitz and Mr. Furticella came up with a clear vision of how to render street scenes in a novel way. Mr. Markowitz used a Phantom high-speed camera, which can capture film at 1,000 frames per second. Just five seconds of footage taken by the Phantom, if slowed to 1,000 frames per second, results in a video that is almost four minutes long. It weighs more than 20 pounds and is typically used in highly controlled environments or in studio settings to record car-crash test footage.

“It’s one of these grail-level tools,” Mr. Furticella said. “It’s a highly unusual use of this camera, to use it in an editorial, storytelling capacity. And it was this fabulous experiment.”

Using the Phantom high-speed on city streets was a photojournalist’s dream, Mr. Markowitz said, because it allowed him to frame unguarded moments with depth and detail. In the digital presentation of the article, a man washing his face and a worshiper bowing in prayer are cinematic backdrops to text rolling down the screen.

Now that the project is complete, Mr. Markowitz plans to make regular visits to Kensington for the food — goat biryani and fuchka are “must have” dishes there, he said — and the friendships he has forged. Many of the families he got to know have even invited him to Bangladesh.

“I understand the smell of Istanbul,” the Turkish photographer Ara Güler used to say. And nowhere is the pungency of the city sharper than in his images of working boats on the Bosphorus. Having given up ambitions to be a film director, Güler devoted himself to making pictures in the 1950s as postwar democracy established greater press freedom. His first published story, on the city’s Armenian trawler boats, almost caused a riot at his newspaper office, when the fishermen turned up to protest about the fact that he had shown them swigging alcohol as they set out at dawn.

This picture was taken in the old caulking yards of Karaköy. The young man in the foreground invites you to imagine not only his life, but those of his colleagues beyond, at work or in conversation. “There is nothing without humans,” Güler said of his pictures. Though his image perfectly frames two distinct worlds, the skyline of mosques and minarets, and the waterside realities of shacks and barges and tyres, it is the people who count. “It was never about what venue I shot,” Güler said. “I shot pieces of life.”

Güler died in 2018, aged 90. This picture is included in an exhibition and retrospective book of 70 years of his work. He became, in the 1960s, the pre-eminent photojournalist in Turkey. He would carry with him four different Leica cameras on assignment, labelled for the different outlets for which he worked – Time magazine in the US, Stern in Germany, Paris Match in France and Hayat in Istanbul. The separation helped him think about what each audience might want, he said. It also gave a clue to his lifelong determination. He was never an artist, always a photojournalist: his aim, he suggested, was to be the honest “eye of Istanbul”.

Photography has long been celebrated as a medium that captures moments, freezes time, and conveys stories. It’s an art form that requires careful consideration, often a great deal of research, and – sometimes – months of planning. 

Canon recently launched a series called Beyond the Kitbag where Cecilie Harris, head of creative services at Canon EMEA spoke to 20 Canon ambassadors to find out how what motivates them to pick up their cameras and continue exploring their passion. 

Recent scientific studies emphasize the significance of storytelling and emotion in photography and how psychological events such as entering a “flow state” can be a contributing factor to a successful career. 

In this study, Cecilie Harris enlisted the help of Dr Richard Stephens, a senior lecturer in psychology at the University of Keele in the UK who analyzed 20 interviews in an attempt to work out if there is something that unifies freelance photographers. 

What Stephens calls a “flow state” comes from a recurring theme through his research interviews. Participants described feeling completely in the moment, as if on autopilot where creating felt calm and peaceful, and their mind was free of stress and anxiety. But that’s only a small factor in what keeps these professional photographers going. 

Stephens was able to break down the photographic process into four psychological states, all of which contribute to a feeling of satisfaction and complete immersion in the task. They are the flow state, creativity, the eureka moment, storytelling, and emotion. Although flow state might not be possible at all times, it’s this feeling that often drives photographers to create their best work. 

Flow state

If you’ve ever experienced a feeling of pure contentment in your photographic practice, you’ll know how rewarding it is. That feeling of pure bliss and unadulterated focus is what we all strive for; your mind doesn’t wander and you’re not left with any feelings of self-doubt. With imposter syndrome not knocking at the door, you tend to feel free of stress and anxiety i.e. you have entered a flow state. According to Dr Stephens, a flow state can be defined as an experience that is “intrinsically rewarding, leading to a great sense of achievement”. 

Several Canon Ambassadors mentioned times when they had experienced this without knowing what to call it. Lucia Griggi describes how she can “look the camera and nothing else matters,” Julie Pike explained how when she holds the camera, things happen automatically, while Emmanuel Oyeleke uses his camera as a tool to “overcome and mask my shyness.” He says it gives him a sense of boldness when it’s in his hand.

To be completely lost in the moment, unaware of your senses and surroundings, and not constricted by any doubts in your ability result in a dreamy, flow state that is the epitome of creative success. You’ll feel like time has been well spent and the positive effects will often carry into other parts of your day and life. 

The science of creativity

Photographers constantly strive for creativity, seeking to capture images that are authentic and engaging. The science of creativity defines it as the ability to generate ideas that are both novel and satisfying, but the pursuit of creativity can be challenging, especially when there are no clear goals at the beginning of a creative process.

Stephen Kotler, an American author, suggests science-based strategies to enhance creativity such as cultivating a good mood since it promotes a willingness to take risks and embrace unconventional ideas. 

There are several ways to coax creativity, you just have to find which suits you best. Canon ambassador Julie Pike tries to create a relaxing atmosphere on a shoot so, when she worked with the Norwegian singer Aurora and her sisters, she supplied Norwegian Bolle (sweet buns) and beer as a way of connecting with them and breaking the ice. 

You could also listen to your favorite music, set guidelines such as not shooting on sunny days, a tactic Martin Booth uses or even pass the creativity baton to your subject allowing them to be actively involved as Helen Bartlett does when shooting with children. By embracing these approaches, photographers can unlock their creative potential and continue to produce captivating work.

Eureka Moment

Eureka moments are sudden, euphoric breakthroughs that leave you and give you an instant, overwhelming feeling of victory. They often arise after a period of frustration or a creative block which is something most creatives will have to battle with at one point or another. 

For photographers, these moments are not uncommon, considering the inherent difficulty of the creative process which can lack a clear strategy from the start. These insightful breakthroughs where the solution finally emerges hold long-term motivational effects for photographers who can look back on these moments for reassurance. 

Several photographers shared their experiences of eureka moments during their creative processes. Helen Bartlett described it as a moment when you have a vision but it hasn’t materialized yet while Audun Rikardsen knows immediately when a personal image would have a lasting impact on him. Lucia Griggi, one of the few female surf photographers recalls a perfect wave breaking suddenly, leaving her in awe and Julie Pike recalled a moment when the perfect frame appeared before her eyes. These eureka moments serve as powerful reminders of the magic that happens when creativity aligns with intuition and inspiration.

Storytelling and Emotion

Narratives are essential for human cognition and communication, encompassing elements such as sequential plots, dramatic moments, archetypal characters, and moral lessons. Photographers adeptly capture the tension between exposition and impending action which evoke emotions and grabs the viewers’ attention. Emotional connections between photographers and subjects drive powerful images but purpose-driven storytelling required photographers to break boundaries, depict reality and often raise awareness around a topical or sensitive issue. 

Finbarr O’Reilly is a war photographer, but rather than capturing the cliché photos you often see of war, he tries to capture the people affected trying to maintain some normality in their everyday lives through his powerful image. Similarly, Wanda Martin strives to break down gender boundaries and depict the model’s personalities and the backstory of fashion through her editorial portraits. 

Photography is after all storytelling through images but more often than not it isn’t quite as simple as clicking the shutter and taking a nice photo. The most engaging of images that elicit emotion from the viewer requires careful planning, a lot of thought and a deep connection to the subject being photographed may that be a person, a landscape, or even a memory. By combining the four psychological states, photographers are able to push themselves further and delve deeper into the heart of who they are as creatives and what type of work they want to present. 

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Photos by Bloomsburg-based artist and railroad photographer Oren B. Helbok are part of “The Ties That Bind: Railroading in NEPA,” an exhibit that opens this week at Misericordia University’s Pauly Friedman Art Gallery.

We spoke with Helbok for a feature on the exhibit. This is an expanded version of the interview which appears in our main story. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Q: How did you come to be connected with this exhibit?

A: Erika Funke at WVIA deserves all of the credit for this. Erika did a Keystone Edition feature about train art and invited me to come onto the show.

Lainey Little (Ed: Pauley Friedman Art Gallery Director Lalaine Bangilan Little) was in the audience at WVIA. I handed her my card and I said keep in touch. A few months later that Lainey said, “I’m doing a show in the gallery with trains, and would you be interested in having some of your photographs displayed?” And I leapt at the chance.

Q: Tell me about your professional life, and your art, and how the two intersect.

A: I run The Exchange, which is a nonprofit arts organization down here in Bloomsburg. We take as our mission bringing the arts to all communities throughout our region.

It’s a deliberately vague mission, so we can do a whole bunch of different things. The heart of what we do is the gallery here on Main Street. We do nine shows a year, and most of them are open calls. We’ve done about 80 shows here since we moved into this space in 2014. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 800 people have shown work, and that’s everyone from university art professors to two-year-old children, and it all goes up together.

We also do other things. On the last Wednesday of every month we do live music. We call it the Listening Room. It’s not like going out to a bar where there are televisions and people talking. This is an intimate performance.

Q: How long have you been in Bloomsburg?

A: My wife (Sara Baker) and I moved to Pennsylvania in 1992, and we moved into Bloom in 2010.

Q: Tell me about your railfan photography. When did it start?

A: My father handed me a camera when I was six. That was in the spring of 1972. I had shown from the time I was teeny tiny an interest — I mean a passion for — trains.

I grew up in the Bronx. My parents would take me down to the Hudson River in our neighborhood to have picnic suppers. We’d sit on the platform of the train station at Riverdale, or we’d go out on the rocks on the river. But I was not watching the river. I was watching the trains.

Q: (Laughs) I know the feeling. I do! And your father was supportive?

A: My father had been into airplanes. He had gotten his private pilot’s license at age 18, but had never flown after that because he couldn’t afford it. He saw my passion for trains, and he just jumped in with both feet and became a hugely enthusiastic and knowledgeable railfan.

Q: I’m going to ask this question — and I’m not sure as a railfan if I could properly answer it myself — but what fascinates you about trains?

A: For some kids it’s planes. For some it’s cars. For me, it was trains.

When I was a kid, I think it was really the hardware. Trains are big and they move fast. And I think there is something fairly universal about the appeal of the railroad.

The epiphany I had about this was back in the fall of 2014. My daughter and I were on a college visit tour out in the Midwest. We were crossing Ohio. I like to avoid the interstates, so we’re taking the two-lane road. And every now and then up ahead, we’d see that little yellow sign for the railroad crossing. As we cross the track, I would look in both directions, you know, just to see if there’s anything there. I think that actually there’s something universal about that. When anyone — whether it’s a railfan or not — comes across a railroad track, it’s perpendicular to the way that they’re going. And it opens up the world in that perpendicular direction.

I think that was true for farm kids growing up in the Midwest 150 years ago, or someone up in the coal region. It was a way to get out and get somewhere else.

Q: You grew up in the Bronx, where of course there’s, there’s so much going on in terms of rail transportation, especially passenger service. Did that influence the way you looked at railroads?

A: Actually, even from the time I was a kid, I photographed minimally in the Bronx. I wish I had done more.

Q: Ah! Interesting. Where were you shooting then?

A: My father and I were traveling to go see steam trains.

Q: That seems to be your main focus, so I guess that hasn’t changed much over the years.

A: Right, though it’s not exclusive. What has changed, though, is that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized the appeal of the railroad and of railroading. It’s broader than what I had initially experienced.

To me, to photograph railroading and to photograph it comprehensively, there are three main themes: There is the hardware. There’s also the landscape and the way that the railroad interacts with its surroundings. That’s whether you’re in town or out in the countryside somewhere. And then there is the people. And the people have become much more central to my photography.

When I was a kid, every now and then I would photograph a human being working on a locomotive. Now that’s really most of what I do.

It’s partly to make up for all of those people who were so generous with my father and me, who gave us access to their railroads and taught us about what they were doing, whom I didn’t photograph. I regret that. And my way of paying them back is to do as much as I can of it now with the people who are here now, giving me access and showing me how the railroad works.

Q: You’re going to have a lot of folks who come to this exhibit who will be railfans, as we are, and who will appreciate the nuances that others may not see. But to those visitors who don’t necessarily have an interest in railroads, what do you hope they’ll take away from the exhibit?

A: I think that that railroading is a very broad subject. It’s not just the hardware, it’s the interaction of those trains with the environment. It’s the history. America was really built on the railroads.

And even in a place like Dallas, Pennsylvania, where the tracks have been gone for decades, part of the reason Dallas looks the way it does is because that track used to be there. There are still buildings left that were built there next to the tracks so that the railroad could provide freight service. The shape of those buildings, the shape of the landscape, was altered because of the way the trains came through.

I think it’s important for people to have that sense of how we got to where we are.

Q: Any other thoughts?

A: I would hope that some of them are also gonna be willing to call their legislators and say, “for crying out loud, can you just get a train running from Scranton to New Jersey!?”

Whenever I go on holiday, a weekend away, or even a day trip you can find me, camera in hand, documenting every part of the trip. From the journey there (unless of course, I’m driving), to arrival, to every meal, and even the moments of rest, I’m always ready to take beautiful candid snaps of my nearest and dearest. Capturing these moments is incredibly important to me, I love being able to tell a story of our time together through images but sometimes, I really do wish I was in more of them!

The one problem about being your friendship group’s sole photographer is that you won’t be in 90% of the photos. And the ones you are in are usually forced group shots or photos you have asked someone to take of you so it’s very hard to act natural. 

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It was my choice to be a photographer, no one is arguing that but sometimes I look back on the photos I’ve taken and it feels like I’ve written myself out of my own life. Sure my friends take photos of me on their phones or Instax but it’s not quite the same as being captured mid-laugh or dancing, completely unaware you’re even being photographed. 

Last weekend I was lucky enough to be invited to a yurt party in a charming little village called Bradley on the outskirts of Basingstoke, UK. The theme was Time Travelers Ball so, of course, this was going to be an excellent opportunity for photos. As normal, I got my camera out and started snapping away but much to my surprise as the night went on and sunset was upon us, my friends suddenly became very interested in using my camera. I let them take the reins for a change!

I didn’t make it easy for them, I passed over the camera in manual mode and told them which dials would affect the exposure and then left them to it. On its return, I expected to see quite a few blurry, out-of-shot photos but honestly, I was blown away by how good they were. Turns out my friends are actually a bunch of talented photographers and now I know this secret, I’ll be passing over camera duties more often. 

Not only was it really nice to appear in some photos for a change but it was an absolute pleasure watching the joy on their faces when they took a photo they were proud of. To open someone’s eyes to the reason why something is your passion is humbling, rewarding and totally magical. Most of my friends are DJs and producers, so they regularly discuss music-related things it was a really nice switch-up to see them getting excited about my area of expertise. 

Of course, I’ll never stop being the designated camera lady, I love doing it and I admit I can think of it as my gift to everyone in attendance, but it’s good to know that I can pass the baton sometimes. It means that in years to come when I look back at photos, I’ll actually be in the photos, not just appear as a shadow from behind the lens. 

All images were taken on a Sony A7 III and a Sigma 28 – 70mm f/2.8 DG DN lens

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