Why I Made Field Notes (And Didn’t Just Post It on Instagram)

I didn’t want this to disappear in 24 hours.

There’s nothing wrong with sharing work on Instagram—it’s a tool, and sometimes it works. But with Field Notes, I wanted something different. Something slower, more intentional. Something that reflects the kind of photography I care about: emotionally honest, visually strong, and built in collaboration.

Why not just post it?

Social media rewards speed and novelty—scroll fast, double-tap, move on. It’s frictionless, but it’s also fleeting. And more often than not, it strips the work of context. Images float in a sea of sameness, disconnected from the thinking and effort behind them.

But the way something is presented shapes how it’s understood. I didn’t want these photographs to be seen as content—I wanted them to be seen as stories, thoughtfully made and part of a broader arc.

Why a sketchbook? Why a mailer?

Field Notes is somewhere between a printed promo and a working notebook. I called it a sketchbook because it isn’t a “greatest hits” portfolio—it’s a slice of recent work that still feels alive to me. Not fixed. Not final. But worth sharing in a focused, tactile format.

The sequencing matters. I thought hard about how one story leads into the next—how the energy builds or softens, how portraits speak to each other, how the flow mirrors the way I think about assignment work. It’s not just a collection of images; it’s a conversation between them.

The design is minimal, intentional. White space has a job to do. Typography is quiet but clear. The pacing gives the work room to breathe. All of that is part of the experience—part of the story.

Something you can hold (literally or digitally)

While most people experience Field Notes as a digital mailer, I also printed a small run of physical copies. These went to a handful of editors, collaborators, and friends—people I’ve worked with or hope to work with. In print, the work takes on a different weight. The paper slows you down. The color holds. It’s meant to feel considered, not mass-produced.

Whether digital or physical, the format is the point: to give the work the space it deserves.

This is how I want my work to be seen.

Not crammed into a carousel. Not cropped by a platform. But thoughtfully presented, with attention to tone, rhythm, and feeling.

Field Notes gives me a way to reach people I’d actually like to collaborate with—creative directors, editors, producers—without relying on an algorithm to do the introduction. It’s direct, personal, and cohesive in a way that feeds and reflects the kind of work I want to make more of.

This is Issue No. 1. There will be more. It’s a slower rhythm, but it feels right.

If you haven’t seen it yet, you can flip through it here.

Thanks for taking the time.

– Shlomi