Over the years, I have spoken with many photographers who, often without intending to, ended up using photography as a way to get through difficult periods in their lives. Anxiety, depression, trauma, grief. What begins as a simple act of looking, or sometimes as a suggestion from someone else, slowly turns into something more personal. The camera stops being about recording what is out there and becomes a way of processing what is happening inside. In these moments, photography is not about prefection or control. Its is somply about presence and instinct and staying responsive to whatver the day brings. Often there is no plan and no search for the perfect image. Sometimes, the photographer is simply trying to make it through the day.
When I met Sarah Simon I was immediately struck by her openness and the honesty with which she spoke about the experiences that led her to photography. I have always valued honesty in people, and perhaps even more so in photographers. In a world saturated with constructued images and carefully crafted stories, it feels refreshing to speak to someone who is willing to speak plainly and without performance.
Simon is a self-taught photographer who picked up a camera for the first time in 2020. “I intuitively knew that is what I needed to do,” she told me. “Photography soon became my therapy, and I haven’t looked back since”. After years of living with Lyme disease and struggling to help her three children heal from it as well, she describes that period as being given a second chance at life. Then, in the same year, her father passed away. She began taking trains into New York City, walking for hours with a camera in her hand. “It was like a combination of me being grateful that I was healed and me being consumed with grief for the loss of my father. I was dealing with a lot of emotions, including having just gone through a divorce…I needed to get out, and I did it with a camera and it saved my life.”
She started photographing with a small Ricoh GR camera and no real agenda. No plan, no project, no expectations. Just walking and photographing intuitively. Through street photography, she found a way to process grief and reconnect with her body and her surroundings. Listening to her, I was reminded of something Daido Moriyama once said about photographing as a way of existing in the world rather than trying to explain it. For Sarah, the act of walking and shooting became a way to stay grounded and present.
Her photography is deeply introspective and shaped by her interest in Jungian and depth psychology. “For me, it’s connected to a process Jung talks about” she explained “A kind of inner space you can reach through dreaming, but also through something close to meditation. It is a place where, even while awake, you can tap into your unconscious and begin to work with your shadow, with archetypes, and with deeper layers of the self. I believe this is exactly what I am doing through street photography. And I do not think I could reach that same state with any other camera. There is something about using a tool that is so small, loose, and intuitive that allows access to the unconscious. It feels as though my hands know what to do on their own, without conscious direction.”
Sarah is entirely self taught and works exclusively in manual mode, guided more by experimentation than by technical rules. Today, she is a Ricoh GR ambassador in the United States and an active voice within the GR community. She is also the co founder of Ricoh GR Women, an initiative created to amplyfy the presence of women within a space that has long been dominated by men. Alongside her ongoing photographic practice, she is slowly developing a book that brings together photography, poetry, depth psychology, and psychedelic integration.
At its core, her work stands as a reminder of what photography can be when it is stripped back to its essentials. A way of coping. A way of listening. A way of surviving. Sometimes, healing begins with nothing more than stepping outside and pressing the shutter.
Can you walk us through your journey in photography? How did your passion first begin, what have been the key milestones along the way, and what ultimately led you to choose the Ricoh GR as your main camera?
I only became passionate about photography in the last few years. In 2020 I was working through personal grief and illness, and I felt the impulse to buy a compact camera, and I got a Ricoh GR. From the start I made photos with the GR that were mysterious and compelling, and that motivated me to keep shooting. Making photos became an expression, a way to explore existential questions, and have a dialogue with the unconscious.
I chose the Ricoh GR because I’m a design nerd at heart and a minimalist, but I stuck with it as my main camera because I loved how the experience of shooting snapshots with it allowed me to enter a “flow state,” essentially an altered state of consciousness, while observing the world. The more I trusted myself to let go of old stories and create, and the more I learned about the art of street photography, the more taking photos became my own personal ritual and project. Along the way I have met other street photographers, become a Ricoh GR ambassador, given talks and lead photowalks for Ricoh, had my images in several international exhibitions and zines, been represented by a gallery, judged street photography festival contests, and been chosen as a finalist in the Women Street Photographers Exhibition.
You’ve said that the Ricoh GR ‘changed your life’. Can you take us back to that first experience with the camera, and perhaps share a photograph that marked a real turning point in your creative process?
I was incredibly sick with Lyme Disease for many years and during that time there was so much I could no longer do, including go for long walks, or read, or executive function, or be a part of society really. As I heal and regain my strength, going for long walks with a camera has become part of my recovery. I am in pain and exhausted for days after my photo walks, but I also feel alive again. Also, I have debilitating brain fog and often stutter or struggle to articulate my thoughts into words, so it has been a gift to learn to communicate through images instead of words.
I remember I went with my sons to the Museum of Modern Art and took photos there. I was so excited to see Brancusi’s sculptures in real life, I think the photos I took that day were influenced by the art. There’s one particular photo of my son in front of a Calder mobile I took that day that I love because it captures how I see the world. I have a nuerocomplex mind, and at the same time so much of my illness has been dealing with brain inflammation which clouds how I see and experience the world, so making that photo that felt true to my intense and blurry point of view was a turning point for me in my creative process.
Has there ever been a moment when the GR truly surprised you, whether through its technical performance or the emotional impact of an image you captured with it? Can you tell us about a photo or particular situation?
One of the treatments that I have worked with for years to help my extreme brain fog is a frog medicine that is traditionally used by the Matses indigenous tribe in the Amazon. In 2023 I travelled to the jungle in Peru to visit the Matses, and I brought my GR and took snapshots along the way. I befriended an intelligent and confident 13 year old girl in the village, and one day as I was relaxing in my hammock she asked if she could borrow my camera. As I napped, she walked around the village and took photos of her tribe, some candid, some posed. I found it amazing that she lived a remote and traditional indigenous lifestyle deep in the jungle her entire life, she never used a phone, computer or any tech before, and she intuitively figured out the camera and took such wonderful images of her tribe.
How do the GR’s defining features-its fixed lens, compact body, and stripped-down simplicity- shape the way you shoot?
Snapshot photography with a compact camera makes me want to shoot in a way that is loose and instinctual. I have heavier cameras that are larger and more complex, but I rarely use them because for now at least, I enjoy this style of photography.
Do you find that the portability and discretion of the camera make it easier to capture images that feel more spontaneous and authentic?
I find most people are aware of their surroundings and notice people with cameras, even small cameras, so the easiest way to photograph a scene candidly is to have a quiet presence and be aware of timing. I do find a discrete camera seems to not intrude into others’ experiences as much.
I know you often take a train ride of about an hour to photograph in New York City. What’s it like working in that environment? Do you find it inspiring, challenging, or both? Are there particular neighborhoods or situations that make it easier- or harder- to capture the kind of images you’re looking for?
I head into the city with an open mind, and no plan and knowing that I will find plenty of inspiration and challenges. I am drawn to exploring urban mysticism, the concept of finding deeper meaning among the chaos and madness of modern life instead of in secluded or religious settings. I’m looking for images that capture both the spirit of the times and the depth of the spirit, and I love that I can find that anywhere in New York.
In your relationship with a camera, how important is the emotional connection compared to the technical aspects? What makes a camera truly feel like yours, rather than just a tool?
If I shoot in manual mode and constantly experiment and adjust settings I feel like I am making it my instrument. I make adjusters based on technical aspects like lighting and zone distance, but also based on changes in my emotion and mood. The emotion and mood is much more important to me than the technical aspects. When my fingers have muscle memory and know how to quickly adjust the camera in a split second to my instincts, then it becomes more of an extension of me and my emotions.
The official Ricoh GR blog is quite unique among camera brands- it highlights photographers more than the gear itself. How do you see your own voice fitting into this community? What does being part of it mean to you, and how has it influenced you- perhaps even in terms of visibility- since becoming a GR-ist?
Everyone I have met from Ricoh both in the company and their community of photographers have been so supportive and cool. It has been a pleasure to be a part of their community as an ambassador, a judge for the GR photo festival, and as a Gr-ist.
Five years ago I couldn’t find many other women with GR cameras posting photos online, so i started the hashtag #ricoh_gr_women which led to co-curatoring the Ricoh GR Women instagram gallery with four other women. It is inspiring to see the images from all over the world by women who are using the same snapshot style of photography to share their point of view. I hope by being a part of the Ricoh community I’m helping empower others to create art and share their point of view too.
How would you complete the sentence: “A GR-ist is someone who…”?
Someone who genuinely appreciates and uses the GR cameras in their everyday life, and is part of the cult. I’m just kidding about the cult part, but there is a cult-like following for the GR cameras, and photographers who collect GRs like I do and use them as their main everyday carry genuinely appreciate the engineers who create and design these cameras, and the appreciation is mutual. The Grist project is Ricoh’s way of appreciating the photographers who truly get and appreciate the cameras they create.
With the release of the GR IV, to what extent do you feel the community of users helped shape its development? Has the brand been responsive to feedback, and how does the dialogue between photographers and the company usually work?
I’ve been fortunate to meet some of the Ricoh team from Japan who design the cameras, and It was cool to hear them talk about designing the new features based on what they observed street photographers were into on their photowalks. The company has offices in different areas of the world and each office organizes events and photowalks for the public, and also communicates regularly with with ambassadors. I respect how they are responsive to feedback, while also staying focused on their mission to empower photographers with design-forward quality compact cameras. I often see people asking in social media posts for new GR features that don’t make sense to the purpose of the camera, and I respect that Ricoh finds a way to take feedback from its community while also balancing that with being true to their original design purpose.
How much does the camera you use shape the kind of photographs you take? Has the GR ever pushed you to explore new genres or subjects you might not have considered otherwise?
The GR has made me more willing to lean into abstract and experimental photography. There are so many different features that I find fun and easy to experiment with in an intuitive way like filters, metering, and different zones of focus.
To what extent do you feel your photographic identity is tied to the GR?
I think this urban mysticism project that makes up this phase of my photographic journey is tied to the GR because it allows me to tap into what is necessary for this work, but I know I will evolve and stay open to creating photography with any camera. I try to be aware that sharing my enthusiasm for the camera I use is separate from sharing my photography as art.
Do you ever feel a bit incomplete, or even ‘naked’, when you head out without your camera?
Between divorce and living in multiple homes with mold, I’ve had to multiple times throw away or walk away from most of my possessions in the last decade. I’ve become a minimalist and only own a things that are well designed and useful. I try not to be attached to things, especially technology, so that I can feel whole wherever I may find myself in the world. That being said, I must admit my camera does help me feel less naked when it comes to expressing my emotions and point of view. I don’t always feel safe or adequate expressing myself without my camera. The unfortunate reality is that part of my photography practice is figuring out how I can challenge dominant perspectives in my life and in society when it’s not safe or within my capacity for me to do so outright with words. Additionally, when what I am experiencing or expressing is ineffable, and words are too shallow, too rigid to get to the heart of it, the camera through abstraction and metaphor can give a more whole picture.
Looking ahead, what’s next for you? Can you tell us about the projects you’re currently working on and give us a glimpse of what we might expect from you in the coming months?
My brain fog and immune system has been so terrible this past year again due to a more recently discovered toxic black mold exposure, and it’s been a while since I had the energy or cognitive capacity to execute on my ideas. I am devoted to resting and renewal and rebuilding my life, and am comfortable giving myself the grace to do it slowly. It will be a major accomplishment for me in 2026 just to feel well and curate and share my images and enthusiasm for street photography again. Stay tuned for future book projects.
Silvia Donà