Client: Digital Photo Magazine and Getty Images | Role: Photographer
The very first time-lapse I ever shot was on the corner of Merrick and Linden. I had rooftop access at a private school, and the only rule was simple: don’t fall off. The sky was gray, the block wasn’t all that interesting, and the footage was honestly kind of wack. But it didn’t matter. I was hooked.
I was drawn to time-lapse photography years earlier after seeing the film Koyaanisqatsi. That movie made me look at the city in a new way. Back then, you couldn’t just pull out your phone and shoot. You needed a real camera, an intervalometer, a sturdy tripod, and patience. I didn’t have the best gear, but I had determination.
At first, my shots weren’t great. But over time I got better. I learned to choose stronger locations and subject matter. I hustled my way into rooftops and restaurants, sometimes charming hostesses or construction workers just to get a vantage point. One night I convinced a restaurant at Columbus Circle to let me come back twice, once for a daytime shot and once for a nighttime shot, while they were actually serving food. Another time, I got access to a building under construction just to capture both the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges in a single frame. Every time I asked, more doors opened.
Eventually, I put together a one-minute reel. No words, just music and the city in motion. To me it felt like a short film. I uploaded it online and later submitted it to a small festival. I didn’t win, but something unexpected happened. One of the festival’s judges also worked with Digital Photo Magazine. They reached out and asked if I’d be interested in writing an article about my process.
I said yes immediately. They sent me questions, I wrote everything out in my own voice, and sent them photos, including one of my favorites, a night shot of the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island. When the piece was published, I was stunned. I walked into the Port Authority on 42nd Street, opened the magazine, and there I was, my first published article. I bought six copies on the spot, grinning like a kid and handing them out to whoever would take one.
Weeks later, life hit me with the other side of the creative coin, famine. Rent was due and I had no idea how I was going to pay it. Out of nowhere, I got an email from the same editor who pitched me the story. “Where should we send the check?” I was confused. “What check?” I thought the article was just an honor, not a paid gig. But it was. The check arrived, and it covered my rent that month with a little change left over. That one-minute reel literally kept a roof over my head.
After that, I submitted my clips to Getty Images, and over the years I’ve collected small residual checks that still show up. At the time, I couldn’t believe a personal project that started with a gray day and a wack rooftop shot had turned into real money, real publication, and real opportunities.
Time-lapse taught me a lot. It taught me patience. It taught me the importance of preparation, things like making a shot list so I wasn’t wasting time wondering what to capture. It taught me to embrace things I couldn’t control, like weather or light, and still find a way to make the shot work. And most of all, it taught me that personal projects can open professional doors you never see coming.
These days, I don’t shoot many time-lapses. The thrill is gone now that anyone can pull out a phone and capture something that once took me days to set up. But that chapter in my creative life will always matter. It gave me my first byline, my first taste of residual income, and it literally paid my rent when I needed it most.
I often remind myself of three mottos I live by: make it happen, don’t die with your story, and create the work you want to be hired to do. That one-minute reel was exactly that. A small project, done out of passion, that went on to create opportunities, income, and memories I’ll never forget.
Sometimes the smallest personal projects open the biggest doors.
Thanks for walking with me.
