Year in Review: Presenting Brian Eden’s Best Photos of 2024
Read MoreBest Photos of 2023
It's time once again for my annual photography year-in-review. A chance to pause for reflection. To look back at an entire year's worth of fractions of seconds and discover what themes emerge.
Then take those random moments, psychoanalyze them like an armchair therapist, and try to conflate their meaning into something profound.
This year's selection does not disappoint.
They say photography holds up a mirror to both the photographer and the subject. Given the less-and-less-hinged state of 2023, it's fitting that this year's collection of images reflects that.
In January, I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease—an autoimmune disorder that makes it dangerous to eat even trace amounts of gluten (wheat, barley or rye). And, therefore, dangerous to eat in most restaurants due to cross-contact.
As a man whose diet consisted mainly of gluten on gluten with a side of gluten, who arranges entire travel itineraries around rumor of a particularly promising bagel, this diagnosis was a very bitter gluten-free pill to swallow.
It would be melodramatic to say that it turned my life upside down. But it certainly turned my lifestyle.
Between this personal lifequake and the *waves-hand-at-the-state-of-the-world*, it's not a huge stretch to read meaning into this year's photographs:
Disorienting images that raise more questions than answers.
Photos that grasp for different angles, perspectives and ways of seeing to try to make sense of it all.
A search for tranquility.
Let’s break down the threads.
Late last year I started an ongoing New York project called Post No Bills. The images are unintentional artist collaborations between Advertisers and New Yorkers. The construction wall is their canvas and the layers of peeled-off posters create serendipitous art through reduction. A collage in reverse.
Looking at this year's photos, there are a lot of images that feel inspired by that project.
Last year also marked our ten-year anniversary of living in New York.
Having taken tens of thousands of images of the city, my goal now is to show New York differently.
No longer how it looks, but how it feels.
Chaos and Jazz. Beauty in disorder. A sensory smorgasbord.
(Fortunately, I haven't yet figured out a way to try to capture how New York smells. Although my ongoing Crud project comes close).
In July I converted one of my cameras to infrared. This lets you capture wavelengths of light that are invisible to the human eye. The raw files look like they've been taken through old-timey 3D movie glasses.
Once you have the image, you have to open it in Photoshop and tell Adobe that the sky is blue. That's when magic happens. On a sunny day, the light reflecting off foliage becomes gold or coral. The pictures are mystical.
Are the infrared shots symbolic of the familiar world feeling more and more foreign? Or an attempt to make sense of it all by literally looking at things in a new light?
The disorienting and otherworldly work is balanced out by the macro nature photography of flowers and frost. There's a quiet tranquility in those images. A deep cleansing breath among the collection.
But more than anything, the theme that stood out most from this year is flying. Birds. Planes. Shots taken from higher vantage points.
Maybe it's because I traveled a lot for work this year and took more shots from airplane windows.
But in the spirit of this annual review being all about reading far too deeply into my photography, flight must be symbolic of something.
At first, I thought it might represent feeling distant. Far away from simpler times and a more familiar life.
But then I googled the symbolism of flying.
In literature and dreams, flight represents freedom from struggle and limitations. Rising above. Finding hope and peace.
That was a lightning bolt.
Like an infrared conversion, it made me go back and see this whole collection in a different light.
When I started putting this post together, I expected this Year in Review to represent conflict, turmoil, and a world, in some ways, that became unrecognizable.
Now I realize that’s not it at all.
This year’s collection is flight.
In the face of everything, it is a celebration of life, resilience, and optimism.
With AI images taking over the world in 2023, and the ability to create literally any of the images you’ll find on this website in just a matter of keystrokes (but with better lighting, sharpness, and composition) it got me thinking more fundamentally about photography and why I love it.
Jay Maisel said, "There are two kinds of photographers - those who like photographs and those who like photographing."
I've always thought the reason I love photography is the way I can capture memories. Time is fleeting, but photography can freeze it. It’s like a superpower.
You can hold onto moments, even if only for a hundredth of a second. To look at old photos is like stepping into a time machine. Some images immediately transport me back to a memory. I can hear the sounds. Feel the breeze. Taste the gluten. Photography is a living museum exhibition of my life and it lets me remember it with vivid fondness.
Capturing memories is why I love photographs.
But if I had to choose between Jay’s options, the truth is I love photographing.
This year I had an epiphany about why.
While listening to an interview on Simon Sinek's podcast, A Bit of Optimism, they said one of the most powerful ways to foster happiness and peace of mind is through acts of gratitude. If you practice gratitude and make it a habit to notice the good and beauty in the world, it forces you to be more present and creates joy.
I realized that's why I love photography.
Photography is an act of gratitude.
Every time I press the shutter, it's a gesture of appreciation for something remarkable on the other side of the lens.
Thanks for indulging me in this year's Year in Review.
I hope you enjoy all of the good that I've noticed.
In the spring my company moved offices from Chelsea to 42nd Street. On a sunny day, the light changes constantly, reflecting the most amazing patterns in all of the windows. That’s my office building in the first image, mirrored in the windows of the Chrysler building.
I hope you enjoyed this year’s Year in Review. Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed this post, please consider donating to Beyond Celiac to help find a cure for Celiac Disease.
And if you want to see more, you can check out the other years in review:
2022’s Year in Review
2020’s Year in Review
2019’s Year in Review
2018’s Year in Review
2017’s Year in Review
2016's Year in Review
2105's Year in Review
2014's Year in Review.
Best Photos of 2022
It's been two years since my last photo year-in-review.
In 2021, photography took a back seat to life. We bought a house. We moved. I left my job and started a new one. We successfully (mostly) parented two tiny humans during a global pandemic. Though I did manage to take some pictures in between, editing them was a different story. There are entire folders of photos that I've never touched. Hopefully, someday I'll get around to editing them. Until then, 2021 was The Lost Year.
2022 was a return to form. Or at least form-ish.
My favorite thing about these recaps is discovering what they reveal. Themes emerge. Deep insights are gleaned. I get to find out if I’m getting any better at photography or if I’m getting worse. (It’s debatable!) Sometimes, as in 2020, these collections are a surprisingly good reflection of the state of the world and my place in it.
So what grand lesson did I learn from this year’s recap?
To be honest, I don't know.
This group of images has me a bit stumped.
While I’m proud of this collection, it definitely feels a little less cohesive.
This year, I was drawn to busier, more chaotic, less perfect scenes. In reviewing my contact sheets, some of my favorite images are objectively the worst in the series. But there's something I like better about them, in all their imperfection. They do a better job capturing not just how things look, but how they feel. They have more soul.
Overall, my photos this year tended to be more graphic. The compositions were more about the individual elements than the subject itself – shapes and patterns. Light and shadow. Color. And one color specifically: yellow. So much yellow!
Maybe there’s deeper meaning in that?
I decided to look it up. Here’s what The Internet says about the symbolism of yellow: caution, fear, sensationalism, happiness, optimism, positivity, innocence, cheer, sunshine, enlightenment, creativity, sickness, anxiety, betrayal, impatience, warmth, wisdom, wealth, faith, joy, and mourning.
That's not terribly insightful. But also, pretty accurate.
This fall my 7-year-old daughter Hazel started taking an interest in photography. During a trip to the city she discovered that if she moves fast while taking a picture, the result is something unexpectedly abstract and painterly. In photography, this is a technique called ICM (Intentional Camera Movement). Hazel calls them "blurry-on-purpose-pictures."
Looking back on this year in review, maybe my photography was a little blurry-on-purpose too.
PET PROJECTS:
Before I get into the best-of images, it’s worth calling out some longer-term projects. This year I added a lot of photos to some of my ongoing Fine Art projects. I also started a few new ones. You can click the images below to visit the galleries for each one.
PET PROJECT: UNMOORED
I started “Unmoored” with my flower photography in 2020, but I've never shared it.
By removing the stems in Photoshop, flowers become gravity-defying otherworldly creatures, full of movement. It's impossible to look at them without your mind trying to fill in the gaps of how they're floating. Some blooms become spinning helicopters. Others pulse like jellyfish. It's a fascinating mind trick.
PET PROJECT: CHAOS
The more I add to this project, the more I come to love it. This collection feels like New York. My approach for these photos is the exact opposite of what I’m usually trying to do. Instead of removing elements to give an image a focal point, this series is about making the frame as full, random, and frenetic as possible.
PET PROJECT: POST NO BILLS
I started this new project this year, featuring images of tattered construction wall wild postings.
It's like creating a collage. But instead of deliberately adding layers, these images are created serendipitously, by what someone has torn away.
PET PROJECT: LITERAL STREET PHOTOGRAPHY
This is one of my oldest ongoing projects, where the street itself is the subject. I love how the textures and color blocking create energy and modern-art-inspired compositions.
AND NOW…THE BEST PHOTOS OF 2022
Without further ado, here are some of my favorite photos from 2022:
A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY REPEATING
A few shots from this year had “echoes” - similar scenes and elements from much different times and places. Click on any of them to see them bigger:
I hope you enjoyed this year’s Year in Review. Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out the other years in review:
2020’s Year in Review
2019’s Year in Review
2018’s Year in Review
2017’s Year in Review
2016's Year in Review
2105's Year in Review
2014's Year in Review.
Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
Happy New Year, all!
Best photos of 2020
2020. Oy.
Usually, my year-in-review posts are filled with exciting travel photos, epic landscapes, and vibrant New York street scenes.
I also usually have free time, you know, to take pictures.
But with lockdown/kindergarten-homeschooling/working-from-home/raising a newborn… you can see where I’m going here. My wanderlust these days is to someday be able to go to Costco again.
So I was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite this complete dumpster fire of a year, there were still some good photos to come out of it. I was expecting a D, and am relieved to present you with a solid C+.
The most interesting part of this annual collection is trying to make sense of it all. What does this random collection of fleeting moments say about the whole year?
(Yikes.)
Despite never showing anything overtly related to the pandemic (no facemasks, social distancing, etc.) this collection is a surprisingly and unintentionally good reflection of my year.
Our dog passed away in January. Seven days later, my wife gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter. A few weeks after that was COVID, quarantine, washing bananas in the sink, the end of our lease in Brooklyn, and a new chapter in the New York suburbs.
You don’t need a psych degree to make sense of the themes in these images. Solitude, chaos, tunnel vision. Darkness. A literal rollercoaster. An old life out of focus and disappearing in the rearview mirror. New beginnings. Glimmers of hope.
When shelter-in-place orders were announced in March, we left New York and moved to my in-law’s house in Maryland for three months. Needing to create, but with none of my go-to subjects to work with, I found inspiration in one place I’ve never really looked before: nature.
I’ve frankly never understood the appeal of flower photography. But with a social-distancing-friendly Botanical garden nearby, I put on a macro lens and some extension tubes and dove in, spending nights studying flower photography tutorials on YouTube and early mornings practicing with new blooms around the yard.
I realized, despite the still-life scenes, I could try to approach flowers like street photography. I tried to create images with energy and movement. To find subjects with personality. To capture that elusive quality that Jay Maisel calls “gesture.”
I took hundreds of nice, quiet portraits of single flowers. But it was the frenetic, busy frames that drew my eye the most.
Maybe it was just a symptom of missing the crowds and chaos of New York. A desperate, frustrating longing to recreate the feeling of a rush-hour F train when all I had in front of me was a field full of daisies.
You can take the photographer out of New York, but you can’t take the New York out of the photographer.
Without further ado, here’s a look back at the very best photos of the very worst year.
Click on any of the images below to see them large in Lightbox mode.
I took this photo in SoHo in early January. I liked the way the geometry of the signs and the buildings lined up perfectly. I also liked the tension of everything pulling you in opposite directions. It felt like a Fred Herzog, Stephen Shore, or Joel Meyerowitz composition.
Now, looking back at this photo, it has something else that I couldn't see when I took it back in January: it feels like foreshadowing.
I took this rollercoaster photo on the same day as the clam. Little did I know how heavy-handed of a metaphor this would be.
I took a few angles of this roadside prayer stop, but I liked this one best - the way the building became 2-dimensional and how the telephone pole shadow formed a cross, pointing to the lawn chair pews. I also like how dark and ominous the rest of the scene feels - the sunlit building a beacon of light for anyone needing to pull over and take a minute.
When shelter-in-place orders were announced at the end of March, we moved to Maryland to live with my in-laws. We set up a temporary work-from-home space by a window in their bedroom, overlooking the woods. This was the view from my desk. It was mesmerizing to watch the forest come to life as winter turned to spring. In the evenings, the sun dipped behind the trees and the new leaves on the tulip poplars lit up like strings of fairy lights.
As I started to find my style in flower photography, I experimented with getting closer and using an extremely shallow depth of field. I liked the way the soft-focus created a sense of movement and a more painterly look. It also turned the process of making images into more of a scavenger hunt - to find and emphasize individual petals, unique details, and tiny graphic elements.
This bit of hot pink on the tip of this peony petal was the only color variegation on the whole flower.
Good photos are everywhere. This yellow cosmos flower was growing next to the driveway.
One of the unexpected joys of quarantine was taking hikes through the woods with our daughter. It was a whole new world for a city kid. We found morel mushrooms and deer, patches of bluebells and this creek filled with hundreds of tadpoles.
We came back each week to check on the tadpoles and see how much they’d grown. (It was the only proof we had that time was actually passing)
I tried to take a picture to remember the ritual, but with the sky reflecting on the water, it was impossible to see the tadpoles. I held out my had to shade the glare and took this one photo. I ended up liking the image a lot more than I expected.
This peony is a slow-motion explosion.
Brookside Gardens has an amazing rose garden with hundreds of hybrid varietals, including this one, the “scentimental rose.” It looks like a graffiti artist snuck into the park overnight and tagged the petals. The way the stamen orbit around the center of the flower is hypnotizing.
Love-in-a-mist is a flower from the Nigella family. I’ve used the seeds for cooking before, but I’d never seen the flower. I must’ve taken 200 pictures of this one small patch. If they ever discover life on other planets, I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn that every flower looks like this one.
With more common flowers like tulips, I had to find interesting ways to shoot them to make it even worth making a picture. After all, how many straight-on tulip photos does the world need? These tulips were growing in a tall planter, so I was able to get much lower and show them from a bug’s eye view.
Speaking of bugs, this little guy was weaving his way around the flower petals, munching on those crumb-sized pollen balls. I didn’t stick around, but I assume he went on to eat through one slice of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake and one slice of watermelon.
I love the energy in this shot. It feels like the flowers are sprouting before your eyes. To create the effect, I sandwiched the hero flower between blurred ones in both the foreground and the background.
All of the flowers in this little patch had straight stems except for this one squiggly one. This image feels more like a painting or botanical drawing than a photograph.
At the end of July, we left Brooklyn and moved to Westchester county. When autumn arrived, the fall colors were incredible. After living in cities for the last 20 years, it felt like l’d suddenly relocated to Vermont. There were still some leaves on the trees in mid-November, so we took a trip to Rockwood Hall Preserve, a former Rockefeller family estate along the banks of the Hudson River. I like the way the trail weaves through the forest, disappearing around the bend, way off in the distance. An S-curve that just keeps S-ing.
Flowers have both male and female reproductive organs. While looking for keywords to tag this image, I learned that the fuzzy bits are the male organs, called “anther,” which comes from the Greek word for “flowery or blooming.” But the word for the female reproductive organ (seen in-focus in the center here) is the “stigma.” Holy misogyny, botman.
During early quarantine, I started a little container garden patch with my daughter. We planted cherry tomato seeds on the kitchen counter in April, moved them outside in May and by June they started to bear fruit.
When I realized how the sun shining through the trees created this incredible glittery background, I took about 50 images of this little tomato. I had to make sure I got every little hair on the tomato vine sharp.
This great blue heron liked to hang out by the lake at Brookside Gardens. I set my camera to take 8 frames per second, waited and got lucky. The fish, unfortunately, did not. Tough year for seafood.
You can’t hear it, but the little daisy in the bottom left is saying “woohoo!”
This Rock Cranesbill belongs on that alien planet with the Love-in-a-mist.
Two weeks after moving to the suburbs, I bought a kayak and named it The S.S. Midlife Crisis. This was its maiden voyage.
I took this image during low tide at Marshlands Conservancy, a nature preserve in Rye. I liked the way the rock formations looked like cresting waves and how they mirrored the shape of the coastline.
I took this shot just a few minutes after the one above. These nearly-bare trees made an amazing silhouette against the gray sky. But it’s that one curvy tree among all the perfectly straight ones that makes the image. I don’t know if its trunk curves because it’s a different species of tree, or if it had to grow that way to find the white space among the crowd.
I took this photo December 13th as the sunset over Rye, our new hometown. This final shot of the year is the closest thing to a return to form of my usual work. Here’s hoping 2021 brings a lot more images like this one, and a lot fewer smashed clams.
I hope you enjoyed this year’s Year in Review. Thanks for reading! And if you want to see more, you can check out the other years in review:
2019’s Year in Review
2018’s Year in Review
2017’s Year in Review
2016's Year in Review
2105's Year in Review
2014's Year in Review.
Or follow me on Flickr or Instagram.
Happy New Year, all!
Life out of focus
I took this abstract city shot on an overpass above the BQE in Brooklyn on my way to pick up my daughter from school one evening in January. I love the energy and chaos of this image.
Sometimes photography is more effective when you don’t show the thing you’re seeing.
I tried taking a few shots focused on the cars instead of the fence too, because the blue hour color in the sky is what caught my eye in the first place. It was a lot less interesting.
25 Best Photos of 2019
National Geographic photographer Jim Richardson once said: “If you want to be a better photographer, stand in front of more interesting stuff.”
According to my Lightroom catalog, I took 12,173 photos this year. Granted, not all of the things in front of me were interesting. Or even in focus. But still. It was a prolific year.
The process of reviewing a year’s worth of pictures is always interesting, because common themes always emerge. As I looked back over previous recaps (mostly to make sure I’m not getting worse at this), I realize my photography style has changed quite a lot over the decade. I’m becoming much more of a landscape, travel and fine art photographer and much less of a street/people shooter. And I’ve definitely become more technically capable. There are pictures in this year’s list that I simply couldn’t capture just 3 years ago - I didn’t know enough about my camera to get the settings right.
The big themes I was drawn to for 2019 were epic scenes, leading lines, sunset palettes and silhouettes. The collection this year is also strangely bipolar. The images are either totally serene or totally chaotic, with not much in between.
2019 was also a big year for new long-term photography projects. Here are four ongoing projects that kicked off in 2019. You can follow the links below to see the full galleries.
2019 PROJECTS:
Shutter and Grind is a project I’ve had on my “someday” list for a long time. It’s a clothing label of original fine art photography apparel for adults, kids and even babies (What? Babies need cool clothes too!) $1 from every shirt sold goes to help pets at Best Friends Animal Society. Check it out and shop here.
A few years ago, I started a project called “Crud,” a germaphobe’s eye view of the cringe-worthy, yet strangely beautiful “crud formations” in NYC subway stations. It even got a bit of press.
“Chaos” is close, above-ground-relative. It captures another under-appreciated side of NYC life: The Chaos.
Most of the time, photography is about creating focus and reduction. This series is the exact opposite. Each streetscape is a sort-of-still-life, counterintuitively composed to be as sloppy, claustrophobic, and anxiety-inducing as possible. You can see the full Chaos gallery here. For maximum impact, be sure to click into each photo to view them one at a time.
Much to the chagrin of my sleepy airplane seat-mates, I’m not one to take the window seat and just leave the shade down. This is why.
I fell in love with photography in the post-digital era. So even though I grew up with film, I never really learned to shoot it, beyond snapshots and disposable point and shoots. But lately I’ve become more and more intrigued by the look, and the more-considered process of shooting film. This year I finally dove in headfirst, and somehow collected a dozen old film cameras along the way. (Apologies to my wife for completely taking over our closet with my toys.) I’m just getting started, but I’m pretty pleased with the results so far. You can see the new gallery of 35mm and medium format film photography here.
THE 25 BEST PHOTOS OF 2019
Without further ado, and in no particular order, here are my 26 best photos of 2019. (I know. It was only supposed to be 25. But I’m bad at math and self-editing).
Click on any image to see it bigger in Lightbox mode.
Santa Monica beach is one of my favorite places in the country to shoot. I’ve taken a lot of photos from this location during trips to L.A. over the years. But this was the first time I noticed muscle beach. I realized if I got down low enough, underexposed the image, and got the shutter speed fast enough, I could silhouette the people and freeze the action against the pastel sunset.
Waking up at 4:45 am and getting out a very comfortable, very warm bed to go take sunrise photos on a frosty November morning is the worst thing ever. Until you get out there and it’s the best thing ever.
In the town of Sandwich on Cape Cod’s north shore (mmm, Sandwich), there’s a 1/4 mile long elevated boardwalk that crosses over the salt marshes on the way to the beach. This raised platform is (unofficially) for local high school and college students to show off their acrobatics. The whole scene felt like something from another time - simple, wholesome summer fun, and not a single smartphone or GoPro to be seen. I love the chaotic energy of the shot on the right. Cropping out the water makes it more mysterious and hard to know what’s even going on.
19 Best Film Photos of 2019
I fell in love with photography in the post-digital era. So even though I grew up with film, I never really learned to shoot it, beyond snapshots and disposable point and shoots. But lately I’ve become more and more intrigued by the look, and the more-considered process of shooting film. This year I finally dove in headfirst, and somehow collected a dozen old film cameras along the way. (Apologies to my wife for completely taking over our closet with my toys.) I’m just getting started, but I’m pretty pleased with the results so far. Here are my favorite analog photos from 2019. You can also keep up with the new gallery of 35mm and medium format film photography here.
Help keep Flickr going
In a world where our photos are becoming more and more fleeting and disposable, Flickr is, and always has been, the one place on the web that treats photographers' images as a valuable, easily searchable, permanent archive. It houses tens of billions of images, including incredible national historic archives for countries, libraries, organizations and nonprofits around the world. (The Library of Congress, The US National Archives, The National Register of Historic Places, the San Diego Air and Space Museum and the British Library are all fascinating archives to poke around when you have time).
I've been a Flickr member since 2005, and to say it's been the single biggest part of my personal development as a photographer is a drastic understatement.
But last night, the CEO, Don MacAskill, sent a refreshingly transparent email that the service is losing money and struggling to stay in operation, and asked the photography community for help keeping it going.
If you're a photographer, or have an archive of digital family photos that need backing up and organizing in a way that you can easily find them, or you just want to help keep this important service going, you can use this code and link below to become a member. (I’m not affiliated with, or sponsored by Flickr in any way and don’t get a penny from this link)
For just $3 a month you can become a PRO member and back up your entire photo archive, with unlimited storage at full resolution, order prints, photo books, and lots of great discounts from partners like Adobe, Blurb, Chatbooks, Peak Design and more.
Thanks for your time, and thanks to Don MacAskill and the entire Flickr/Smugmug team for your passion, transparency, and dedication to keeping this resource going.
Introducing Shutter and Grind
Original photo clothes and apparel by Brian Eden
I’ve had this on my “someday” list for a long time now. I’m so excited to announce I’ve finally gotten around to launching a clothing label of original photography apparel.
Shutter and Grind is still very much in its infancy but features casual streetwear and accessories for adults, kids and even babies (What? Babies need cool clothes too!)
Everything is custom printed to order so I can offer the best variety of designs and cuts. Check out the store on Etsy and give a follow on Instagram @ShutterAndGrind for all the current looks and stay tuned for lots more in the months ahead.
Cherry Blossom Festival, Washington DC
With the Cherry Blossoms in Washington, D.C. forecast to hit Peak Bloom tomorrow, I thought I’d share a few shots from a Cherry Blossom Festival from years past. Here are some of my favorite shots from the festival in 2014. I went twice - once at sunset and the next morning at sunrise. Enjoy!