Jazz Fest 2025: Images from a 48-Hour Creative Reset
A visual journey from Krog Street to Piedmont Park
Last weekend I packed my camera with zero agenda and headed to Piedmont Park for the annual Atlanta Jazz Festival—not as someone chasing a specific project, but as someone curious to see what would happen when I stopped being so precious about my work. The vlog below captures the journey and philosophy behind this 48-hour creative experiment. Below are the images that emerged from that deliberate unproductivity.
The Beltline Journey
Starting near the Krog Street tunnel where the Atlanta Beltline meets Dekalb Ave.one of my favorite places in the city to photograph—I began the walk toward Piedmont Park with no timeline pressure and no specific shots in mind. The interplay of new development and old infrastructure along the Beltline provided the perfect backdrop for this creative reset.
The Beltline has become a centerpiece of Atlanta development, and walking its length offers a compressed view of the city's rapid transformation. But yesterday I wasn't documenting change—I was just observing and capturing whatever sparked my interest.
Every few hundred yards brought something worth a frame. Not because it fit into any existing project, but because my camera was curious instead of purposeful.
Festival Energy
Jazz Fest hasn't changed much in the 20-plus years I've been attending. Same Memorial Day weekend energy, same mix of families and music lovers claiming their spots in Piedmont Park. But I was seeing it differently this time—capturing wide angles of crowds, something I rarely shoot.
My one rule: capture the feeling of being there, not the performers. I wanted the spaces between the music—conversations during set changes, the way a whole community settles into a park for an afternoon and evening.
There are enough photos of musicians. What interested me was the energy between people instead of just the buildings they usually inhabit in my work.
Community Moments
The conversations, the settling in, the way strangers become temporary neighbors on blankets spread across the grass—these are the moments that make Jazz Fest what it is.
As daylight faded and the music continued, I found my wife and we settled into our own spot in the grass. By this point, the camera was put away. Sometimes the best creative decision is knowing when to stop creating and just experience.
The Takeaway
These images will probably never become part of a formal project. They don't fit the aesthetic of "Vanishing Point" or any other body of work I'm developing. But that's exactly the point.
Sometimes creativity needs permission to roam free from our own standards and expectations. These photographs exist as documentation of a creative reset—proof that 48 hours of deliberate unproductivity can remind you why you picked up a camera in the first place.
The festival will be back next year. The creativity? Well, that's always available. We just have to remember to let it out of its cage sometimes.
What would your 48-hour creative reset look like? Share your thoughts in the comments below, and if you try your own version, I'd love to see what you come back with.
Next up: I'm returning to "Vanishing Point" work with fresh eyes as I prepare for upcoming exhibitions. Subscribe to follow along as these atmospheric urban studies continue to evolve.