Today, we’re diving into Forever Saul Leiter, a book that completely changed the way I look at photography. After reading it, I felt a renewed sense of inspiration, as if that creative spark had been reignited. As we go through some of Leiter’s images, I’ll explore why his work has had such a profound impact on me—and how it might inspire you, too.

It’s important to consider the context: Saul Leiter was photographing New York City in the 1940s, using equipment that was entirely manual. There was no autofocus, no instant feedback—just film, light meters, and pure intuition. The way he captured some of these moments is mind-blowing when you think about the technical constraints. He worked with Kodachrome film, a medium that demanded patience and a deep understanding of light. Despite these challenges, his work remains some of the most poetic and painterly street photography ever created.

But why was Saul Leiter a photographer? Was he chasing fame? Did he want recognition? Surprisingly, he didn’t even seek fame. One quote from the book stood out to me: “I don’t see why you can’t be good at something without taking yourself so seriously.” It’s a refreshing perspective. So often, when people get good at photography, they feel pressured to take it seriously—to only post their best work, to appear professional. Leiter’s approach reminds us that photography can be meaningful and fun at the same time. Another quote that resonated deeply with me was: “I was hoping to be forgotten. I aspired to be unimportant.” In an era where photographers chase likes and recognition on social media, Leiter’s words provide a compelling counterpoint. He wasn’t after attention—he was after beauty, and that’s what makes his work timeless.

This brings me to a question: why does a photography book feel more inspiring than scrolling through Instagram? I think it comes down to the experience. A book doesn’t have an algorithm feeding you content to keep you engaged. It’s just you and the images, one page at a time. There’s an intimacy to it. The photos are printed larger, allowing you to notice details that might be lost on a phone screen. You’re not distracted by notifications or tempted to compare your work to others. Instead, you can take your time, absorbing each image, understanding the choices made, and feeling the emotions captured within.

For instance, one photo in the book—a snowy New York City street viewed through a frost-covered window with a red umbrella in the distance—made me want to go out and shoot winter scenes. Had I seen it on Instagram, I might have just scrolled past, thinking, I wish I was in New York right now. But in print, I could sit with it, really study it, and feel inspired to go create something of my own.

Another image that stood out to me is one where Leiter focused on a window instead of the background, making you feel as if you were there. Seeing that shot made me realize that next time I’m out shooting, I should try experimenting with focus in a similar way. Since reading the book, I’ve actually incorporated that technique into my own work. There’s also a shot where Leiter layers a reflection, a foreground element, and a subject all within one frame. He doesn’t just take a reflection photo; he intentionally builds depth into the scene. Inspired by this, I tried a similar approach while photographing in London and ended up with a much stronger composition than if I had simply taken a straightforward street shot.

Leiter had a painterly eye. His use of color and composition was almost accidental yet deeply intuitive. His muted tones, soft focus, and embrace of blur gave his images a dreamlike quality. Unlike traditional street photographers who captured moments with sharp precision, Leiter seemed more interested in the impression of a scene—the way light, color, and movement worked together to create something evocative. He wasn’t just documenting the streets; he was capturing emotions, fragments of life, and fleeting glimpses that feel more like memories than photographs.

His ability to see beyond the obvious is what sets his work apart. Take his reflections in car windows, for example. Instead of simply photographing a vehicle, he used it as a canvas to capture distorted cityscapes, layering perspectives in a way that feels almost surreal. His storefront window shots are another brilliant example—figures partially obscured by glass, reflections merging the outside and inside worlds, condensation softening the edges of reality. There’s a quiet voyeurism in these images, but also a profound intimacy that draws the viewer into the moment.

And then there are the seemingly simple compositions—a solitary figure disappearing into the mist, a red coat cutting through a monochrome winter street, a blurred silhouette framed by neon lights. Leiter reminds us that photography isn’t always about sharpness or clarity—it’s about feeling. His work shifts the way we see the world, encouraging us to embrace imperfection and look for beauty in the ordinary.

Leiter wasn’t just a photographer; he was an artist. Having studied painting, his photographs often feel closer to impressionist art than conventional street photography. His approach was unconventional, and that’s what makes his work so compelling. Today, many photographers chase perfection—tack-sharp images, flawless compositions—but Leiter’s work reminds us that sometimes, softness, blur, and abstraction can be more powerful than technical perfection. That’s something I want to embrace more in my own work: allowing imperfections to add character rather than trying to eliminate them.

One final quote from the book that stuck with me is: “I did things because I liked doing them. When I’m asked why I did certain things, it’s because I like it.” And that, in essence, is why we should take photos. Get inspiration, look at great images, and go out and shoot—not for likes, not for validation, but because you love it. If you take one thing from this, let it be this: pick up a photography book. It doesn’t have to be Forever Saul Leiter, but find one that speaks to you, get inspired, and then go create. Don’t just scroll—go out and shoot.

Photography isn’t just about capturing a moment; it’s about seeing the world in a way that others might overlook. Saul Leiter showed us that beauty exists in reflections, in color, in quiet, fleeting moments. And to me, that is the most inspiring lesson of all.