There’s something about hands that has always pulled me in
The way they carry so much, not just the things we hold, but everything we’ve touched, built, lost, protected. You can tell a lot about a person by their hands, if you know how to look. In my new street photography series, I’m focusing on just that: the hands of strangers, moving through the streets of New York City.
The roughness, the tenderness, the tiny, unconscious gestures that reveal so much about who we are when we think no one’s paying attention.
Before I was ever a photographer
I spent years studying gesture and non verbal expression, a path that led me to train with the legendary Marcel Marceau. Marceau believed (and showed us, over and over) that the hands can reveal what the voice cannot. That they are the purest extension of our thoughts and feelings.
His influence is something I carry with me every time I make a photograph, especially in this series. I still hear his voice, reminding me that the smallest movement can hold the whole story.

Hands give, and they take away
They can offer comfort or cause harm. They can build walls or tear them down. Sometimes they show the weight we’re trying so hard to hide, the tight grip, the nervous fidget, the gentle reaching out for connection. Without even realizing it, we speak through them.

Making photographs of something as specific and vulnerable, as hands is its own particular dance
On the streets, you have to move carefully, quietly, waiting for the right moment without disturbing it. If the person feels the camera too much, the hand changes. The truth slips away. It’s a practice in patience, humility, and presence, trying to portray something real without stealing it, to honor the gesture as it happens, and to make a photograph that feels true to the spirit of the moment.

Touch is one of our first languages, and maybe one of our last
The way a hand lingers on a shoulder, the way two people find each other’s hands without even thinking, these small, almost invisible gestures carry so much of what it means to be human.

In the rush and noise of the city, I find myself looking for these quiet conversations
Through this series, I hope to share some of that, the unspoken language of hands, and to remind us all of how much we say, even when we don’t speak a word.

About the Photographer
Omar Z. Robles, Visual Storyteller
