I met Mohamadou Sow at one of my Intro to 16mm Film Workshops last year. After that, we would run into each other in Center City (that's downtown for all the non Philly folks) as we both are often out and about shooting street photography. Some people you hit it off with, and others remain acquaintances, Mohamadou (aka @docsow on Instagram) was more of the former. We decided to get together and do a photo walk together, which is an excuse to get out and shoot, but also walk and talk. The usual banter is getting to know each other, talking shop, nerding out over gear, and all things related to the craftsmanship of film. But what can happen beyond that, is that the conversation takes on a deeper tone, which is what happened with Mohamadou.

    As we were discussing the ethics of street photography and permission to take the photo of strangers on the street, I realized others might like to peer into some of these convos and asked if we could meet up again for me to record it. So, what we have below is an edited interview based on a walk and talk we had on July 2nd, 2026 (which also happened to be the hottest day of the year at 101 degrees). That made it a little more difficult for us to be out, as well as less foot traffic than normal, but we suffer for the art and keep pushing.

All photos taken by me, except where noted.

How long have you been shooting?

    Since 2016. That was the first time I got introduced to photography, high school, senior year. A friend brought a camera into class for the yearbook, and I don't know what drew me to it, I just started playing with it.
    I'd take photos, and then every day I was just like, dude, can I borrow your camera?

What were you taking photos of?

    People. Our classmates interacting. Naturally I found that I was interested in people, the moments. Because I kept thinking, what would I want to see when I look back at this yearbook? I want to go back to an instant memory. Like, okay, who's around? What was happening here?

Is that the first time you saw your work out in the world?

    Yeah. That would be the first time I'd seen my work in the wild. It was an internal excitement I never shared, but it made me feel good. I was like, okay, cool, I think I want to continue with this.
    Then I went to Penn State the following year. Took out loans, did the whole shebang, got a refund check that was supposed to be for books. What did I buy instead? My first camera, a Canon Rebel. It's been a journey since then. Started digital, and then film came along the way.

What was your first film experience?

    Around 2019 or 2020. I bought a film camera at a random shop with no idea what I was doing. I think it took me a year, maybe two, to shoot one roll. It was an AE-1, the classic camera, I think it was their best-selling one. I remember the first roll I got back was from a trip to San Diego. I was like, oh, this isn't that bad. I think I want to do this.

What's some lessons you've learned?

    I shot an entire roll in Paris once, the AE-1. I come back, go to the photo lab. Now, I had no idea how film really works. I go up to the guy, open the back of the camera myself, and I'm like, "Hey, can you take this out?" He's like, what? Snap. Gone. I was like, no, no, no, no, you can't tell me this isn't good. This is good. He's like, "Yep. Can't do nothing." I literally opened it in the middle of the shop.
    I've never made that mistake again. But looking back, I'm just grateful for it. Because if I did that now, the stakes would be higher. At the time it was just one mistake, now I can laugh at it.
    In my head, I took the most beautiful photos of my life. But we'll never know, right?

Why do you think you shoot photos?

    I don't know. For me, I just want to capture the moments, whatever space I'm in. I use the camera as my way to show my presence in these spaces.
    But it's interesting, though. I've been thinking, do I want to be photographed too? Because you only ever see my photographs. You see my perspective, whatever I was looking at. But you can't see me in it. So sometimes I think: is my photo enough to say I was here? Or do I actually want to be seen in the space too?
    I haven't come up with an answer yet. Maybe it's rangefinder film selfies. I turned a few on this roll, it wasn't that bad.
    But it's something I need to be more conscious of. Being present in the space, not just documenting it.

Do you find yourself taking the same photo over and over, chasing any themes?

    No, I wouldn't say so. I don't gravitate toward one thing and get annoyed like, oh my god, not this again. At least not yet. Maybe I just have to keep shooting, I'll get there.
    But I do find that people are somewhat in most of my photos. Whether it's someone walking, or a portrait on the street. I wouldn't call it a theme exactly. It just happens.

Candid or posed?

    No pose. At all But if someone poses for me, like, they see the camera and go, "oh, you're a photographer, take my picture," sure, I'll take it. I can't just say no, you were looking at me. That depends on whether it's the photo I actually wanted or not. I've never really considered lying about it either way. I'm not trying to be deceptive. It's just, you're in the picture.
    But mostly I'm candid. I wouldn't say I hate posed work, but I'd prefer not to. Especially with street. I'm just an observer. I shouldn't be forcing an experience in order to photograph it.

You seem more like a documentarian.

    I'd say that's the closest label. But I don't know how I feel about labeling the type of photography I do at all, honestly. For me, I'm just a photographer, I can jump in and out of these labels. I could say I'm a street photographer today and something completely different tomorrow. Some people know exactly what they are and stick with it, by all means, if that's you, great. For me it's all under the same umbrella.
    But if I had to label it, documentarian. I shot a Juneteenth event a few weeks ago, and it was just this dope scene, everyone out, hot as hell, but just seeing Black joy, people excited, happy, having a good time. You can feel the energy. And I love that, because now I can say: look, this is what was happening.
    This is the memory capsule thing, you pull up a photo and it takes you right back to the day, the interaction. Even if I don't have the best memory generally, if I look at a picture, I remember taking it.

How do you think your photos reveal your personality?

    That's a very good question. I want to think on it more, honestly. I don't know if I have a full answer.
    It correlates to the earlier question, actually. If you keep taking the same kind of photo, there's a reason. Conscious or subconscious.

What are your boundaries around who and what you photograph?

    First one is, if someone looks like they don't want me to take it, I'll avoid it. Sometimes I've taken photos and people are like, don't take my picture. So that means to me like, hey, X this out. Don't use this.
    On time it happened abroad, I was in Brazil, a woman told me no after I'd already taken it. I didn't speak Portuguese, but the understanding was mutual. I made a mental note: don't use that one.
    Beyond that, it's people in compromising positions, and what that means is really just up to my interpretation. It's a feeling. Instinctively we know as photographers what's right and wrong, or we should. I might not be able to articulate why, but my instinct tells me.
    Take somewhere like Kensington, I used to live near there, off the El. Sometimes people are very high. I wouldn't take a photo of that. It's not that it's wrong, exactly, or dehumanizing, it's instinctual. I'm not going to take advantage of someone while they're down. I'd say the same for people who are homeless.
    But all these are rules, and rules can be broken. If the intent is to raise awareness, to teach people about something, that's different. It has a redemptive quality to it. The caveat is it can't be selfish. It can't be "I want to build my portfolio off this."

Do photographers owe something back to the people they photograph?

    As photographers, we're the biggest takers. We truly just take, take, take, take. And I think there are perspectives we need to start giving back. It doesn't need to be complex. It can be as simple as producing a project that teaches people about something.
    Whatever you're taking should add some value back. Intention is key. But intention is also really hard to define.

How do you work through the monotony of shooting the same streets for years?

    I've been walking these same streets, shooting them, for six, seven, eight, nine, ten years now. There's a parallel to liturgy in church, the repetition, the daily discipline of routine. It can feel boring. You want something sensational, especially as Americans. But if you push through that discomfort, you uncover something you couldn't find on the surface.
    Sometimes walking around, it does feel like I've photographed everything already. But my hope, my optimism, is that there are new people on these streets, which makes it different every time. Even the same place looks different depending on who's in it. I've come here for lunch a hundred times and never seen this before. That's new to me. It keeps me from getting bored, from thinking I've already done it all.
    I use people as my subjects, as they change, it becomes a new scene, a new experience, a new memory. That's where you get to the good stuff, actually, not looking for novelty anymore, but looking for the mundane. Trying to find beauty or joy in things that aren't obviously beautiful or joyful. Or things that are, but have just lost their appeal.
    I'd say you end up photographing people who get overlooked. I don't even walk the same anymore, I'm looking all over the place instead of just watching where I'm going. It affects other parts of life too, I'm always in that headspace, even around my wife and kids. I have to consciously turn it off.

What's next for you, project-wise?

    The next project I want to make requires funding, a ticket back to Senegal. That's where I consider home. Most of my youth was there; all my mannerisms, I picked them up from that place. In the last sixteen years I've only been back once.
    I want to go back and document home. It connects to what I said earlier about the memory-capsule idea, but for my own family this time. I've wondered: how many photographers actually photograph their own family? I don't have a lot of photos of my parents. I feel weird about that. Maybe it's because we just live around each other, or you just want to be present with them when you see them, not behind a camera. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I want to sit with that question.

How would you describe Senegal, what's different about it?

    Community. Everything people do there is more community-focused, more conscious of each other. In the States, it's more individualistic. Both have their place, if you need help, you can rely on your community there. Here, you can focus more on yourself, on the grind, on your own shot at things. But you have to work for it either way.

What do you still want to learn about the craft?

    Half of the experience is me taking the photo. The other half is the blessing of the chemistry, because I shoot film, I'm depending on whoever's developing it, and they can alter the image without meaning to. Right now my goal is learning that second half myself. Making the whole image, start to finish.
    I got a scanner, that's the first step. I still send my film out to be developed, but I scan it myself now. Scanning makes you realize how much more information there is in an image, whether it was under- or overexposed. It's my current adventure. Development is a whole different beast. But if I cultivate those skills, I'll feel complete, I'll have control over the entire experience.
    I actually just moved, and I'm thinking about turning one of my rooms into a darkroom. Or maybe getting a studio with some friends and building a community darkroom together, pitch in for the chemicals, split the cost. Because I shoot enough to justify it. That's the goal, give back to the community again.
    Money will help me get there, sure. But it's not frustrating, learning this. I still love photography, so having to learn more of it isn't annoying, it's exciting.

Do you feel any obligation to portray your communities a certain way, to avoid stereotype, or to push back against it?

    No, because I try to be as neutral as possible. As a photographer, I try not to pick sides, because I feel like that sways the narrative. I just try to show whatever's happening as neutrally as I can. But that's something I should think about more. I might not consciously push an angle, but subconsciously? Maybe. There's some filtering happening in my head, even if I'm not trying to.
    I don't know if it's always front and center. But yeah, there's always some subjectivity in it. I know people who are very intentional, like, I only want to show people smiling. And that's its own kind of manipulation, just on the other side. You're not showing the bad, but you're still shaping it. Honestly, these are all questions I should sit down and actually analyze more. Right now I just do it because I want to. Sometimes that's a sufficient answer.

What makes a good photo, to you?

    A lot of it is personal, that I like it. Technically, sure, the light, everything well-lit. But for me it's not always about that. Sometimes a photo isn't technically good, but I still like it. A lot of it is intuition. And some of it is emotional, there's a story behind why I took a certain shot, and that story is what makes it good to me.

Interview conducted on the street, in Philadelphia. Edited for length and clarity.