Matthew R. Kenney

My interest in photography began while living in New York City in the early 2000s. My first proper camera (not a disposable film one) was a Minolta Dimage.

I didn’t have a job for months and lived on my sister’s couch with her and her fiancé. This was around 2003 or 2004, and my degree in Decision and Information Sciences wasn’t in demand. Landing my first proper corporate job felt almost impossible.

To pass the time—and escape feelings of depression and uselessness—I would get lost wandering the streets (pre-Google Maps) or take the subway to the last stop just to see what was there. The weight of simply existing—taking up space, consuming without contributing—haunted me.

NYC overwhelmed me in the best way. I know it’s a cliché, but feeling lonely in a city filled with people, ideas, culture, and businesses resonated deeply. Not having a job or adding value to the city felt brutal and soul-crushing.

I became fascinated with the city, devouring books like Downtown by Pete Hamill and The Works: Anatomy of a City by Kate Ascher. To this day, when I see a manhole open or a street excavated, I always sneak a peek inside. Seeing the layers beneath—dirt, steel, tubes, wires, and often duct tape—is like viewing a cross-section of a living organism. I’m still amazed the city functions (Tape…always Tape).

My favorite NYC buildings are the little walk-ups wedged between skyscrapers. I imagine the stubborn holdouts who refused buyout offers, confounding developers. I’d love to meet those people—the ones who wouldn’t put a price on their homes or memories.

Growing up on a small island in the Florida Keys, I never felt isolated. You knew everyone, and the nearest shopping was an hour away in Key West or two hours to Miami. Photography there was mostly sunsets—beautiful but repetitive.

In NYC, I loved taking photos and trying to avoid clichés. Setting my camera to manual, adjusting the ISO, aperture, and shutter speed made each photo uniquely mine. The iPhone is a great camera, but its software does so much work that everyone’s photos look similar. Editing photos feels like cheating to me. Cropping is fine, but filters?

This was an innocent time on the web. Flickr and photoblogs were popular, and the Apple Store in SoHo hosted NYC photoblogger meetups. It was just a nice time, honestly. There was an optimism about the web, and Web 2.0 enabled user-generated content. Ad tech wasn’t nearly as creepy, and normal people didn’t say “algorithm.”

Web 2.0 was just starting, and amazing technologies were emerging, like tags and AJAX on the technical side. Flickr was the first site I paid for, and I still pay for Flickr Pro to this day. I genuinely enjoy supporting that company.

The main reason I take so many photos is that each image locks in a moment. Looking back, I remember the smells, temperatures, light, and even tones of voice from the day I took them. Music also triggers my memory—specific songs bring back vivid moments. And movie dialogue? It takes up more space in my mind than my own thoughts.

I accidentally discovered long-exposure photography about 20 years ago while staying at a friend’s place on the Jersey Shore. I set the camera to manual, decreased the shutter speed, and took a photo in the dark. The resulting image was bleak yet dreamlike—inviting in its own way. Night photography suits me, especially with my persistent sleep disorder. It gives me a way to feel productive, even if it doesn’t add tangible value.

My inspiration comes from filmmakers like Michael Mann, Ridley Scott, Roger Deakins, David Lynch, and Nicolas Winding Refn. Films like Collateral, Heat, Good Time, Nightcrawler, Lost in Translation, Taxi Driver, and Drive capture the unsettling allure of urban nightscapes. I read that Michael Mann rented a water truck to wet the streets for Thief (1981)—just to enhance the mood. He’s a true craftsman, a creative polymath, and an idol of mine.

Finding photo locations feels like fishing in the Florida Keys. Just as a fisherman looks for water depths, bridges, continental shelves (upwelling), and underwater structures like shipwrecks or lighthouses, I seek urban textures—bridges, industrial yards, mid-century cities like Newark, Paterson, Pittsburgh, or parts of the Bronx. During the day, I drop pins on Google Maps or take screenshots of GPS locations to revisit later.

Weather is key—ideally, it’s just after rain in the fall or spring, with mist or fog. Sodium lights, neon signs, and car headlights add texture. Being alone at night is both comforting and eerie. I listen to audiobooks or podcasts, keeping one ear open for safety. Thankfully, nothing bad has ever happened, but I stay prepared—wearing bright colors and keeping my portfolio ready in case I encounter cops or security guards.

I follow a night photographer on Instagram who once said he was shooting in an abandoned industrial area when he suddenly heard someone whistling the Kill Bill theme. Just thinking about that gives me chills.

The draw for me is the combination of exploring at night, the solitude, and the technical challenge of creating unique images. I don’t do post-production editing beyond cropping. For me, the photo should represent what I saw at the moment I pressed the shutter.

Additionally, night photography requires a tripod and time. You don’t just snap the shutter; you have to set the shutter speed and account for the amount of light hitting the sensor or film. There is something about the variables when shooting at night—your F-stops, shutter speed, ISO, and white balance all play a role in creating your shot. Digital photography makes this easier due to the preview and instant results. Night photography with film becomes very expensive, and on some nights, your settings might be off, and you won’t get a single usable photo.

This niche area of photography attracts quirky people—those with eclectic tastes in music, film, and life. While most people prefer to be home on cold, rainy, foggy nights, I’d rather be in an industrial area, looking for light that nobody else notices.

Today, I live in Bloomfield, New Jersey, with my wife and three children and work as a Solutions Engineer and Innovation Consultant.