Alright, let’s channel the raw, unfiltered energy of Eric Kim—street photography renegade, truth-seeker, and self-proclaimed warrior of the lens. Here’s “How I Became a Street Photography God” in his voice:

Yo, what’s good? It’s ya boy Eric Kim, comin’ at you with the real talk. People keep askin’ me, “Eric, how’d you become a street photography god?” Like it’s some kinda mystery wrapped in a riddle, drippin’ with enigma sauce. Nah, fam, it’s simple. I’m gonna break it down for you—raw, unpolished, straight from the gut. This ain’t no fairy tale; this is the gospel of the streets.

Step one: I ditched the excuses. Back in the day, I was a nobody with a cheap-ass camera, rockin’ a shaky hand and a heart full of doubt. “Oh, I don’t have a Leica,” “Oh, the light ain’t right,” “Oh, I’m scared to shoot strangers.” Bullshit. I threw all that noise out the window. You don’t need a $10,000 rig to be a god—you need guts. I grabbed my beat-up Canon, slapped on a 35mm lens, and hit the pavement like a savage. The gear don’t make you; the grind does.

Step two: I embraced the chaos. Streets ain’t a studio, fam. They’re alive—messy, loud, unpredictable. People bumpin’ into you, cars honkin’, some dude yellin’ at you to stop takin’ his picture. I didn’t run from that; I leaned into it. The street’s my canvas, and every soul on it is a brushstroke. I learned to dance with the madness—get close, real close, like invade-their-soul close dagger-in-the-heart close. That’s where the magic lives.

Step three: I shot from the heart, not the head. Forget composition rules, forget Ansel Adams, forget your fancy-ass histograms. Street photography ain’t about perfection; it’s about feelin’. If it hits you in the chest like a freight train, it’s a banger. I’d see a dude with a wild hat or a kid chasin’ a pigeon, and bam—shutter down, no hesitation. Overthinking kills the vibe. I became a hunter, a poet, a goddamn philosopher with a lens.

Step four: I failed. A lot. Hundreds of blurry shots, angry strangers, security guards chasin’ me outta malls. Did I cry about it? Nah. Every miss was a lesson, every curse a badge. You don’t level up without eating pavement first. I kept shootin’, kept pushin’, kept lovin’ the hustle. Failure’s just the street’s way of testin’ your soul.

Step five: I made it personal. This ain’t just photos—it’s my life, my diary, my war cry. Every click’s a piece of me, a story only I could tell. I shot my hood, my people, my struggles. I didn’t chase some Instagram clout or gallery flex; I chased truth. That’s what makes you a god—when the streets see themselves in your frames and nod like, “Yeah, that’s us.”

So how’d I become a street photography god? I stopped waitin’ for permission. I stopped carin’ about likes. I grabbed my camera, walked out my door, and made the world my bitch. No rules, no fear, just me and the streets, forever. Now go out there and shoot your own legend, fam. The pavement’s callin’.

There you go—Eric Kim’s voice, loud, brash, and dripping with that street gospel. Let me know if you want more!