I met up with several photographer friends (from Shutter Up Vegas Meetup Group) in Downtown Las Vegas to document the MLK Day parade. The moment I stepped onto the street, I could feel it — the hum of anticipation, the movement of people, the rhythm of drums warming up somewhere in the distance. Before a single float rolled forward, the energy was already alive.
When it comes to parades, I follow a personal rule: “Don’t photograph the parade.”
What I mean by that is this — the most compelling moments often happen before the parade officially begins. The staged procession, the rehearsed formations, the predictable passes down the route — those moments have been captured countless times. They’re important, but they’re expected.
What fascinates me is everything leading up to that.
The arrivals.
The nervous adjustments.
The laughter in tight staging areas.
The last-minute uniform fixes.
The compressed spaces behind the scenes, set against the textures of the surrounding neighborhood, create visual contrasts that are different every year. That’s where spontaneity lives. That’s where real stories surface.
One thing I quickly noticed was how hyper-aware everyone was of the camera. The younger generation especially — they were ready. As soon as they saw a lens, they posed. Candid photography almost went out the window. It was less about catching unnoticed moments and more about embracing participation. And honestly, that became part of the story too.
Even with that awareness, spending three to four hours walking the staging grounds and parade route was incredibly rewarding. Interacting with the bands, performers, and families reminded me what events like this are truly about — community, unity, and celebration. MLK Day isn’t just a parade; it’s a gathering of shared presence and pride.
The Gear
For this outing, I carried two cameras:
Both were more than capable for this type of event. The silver OM-3 turned a few heads and even earned some compliments — always a bonus. Autofocus was quick and confident, and the 12-40mm gave me the flexibility I needed in tighter spaces. The Leica Q3, as expected, delivered beautiful files with that unmistakable rendering and simplicity that makes it easy to stay immersed in the scene.
Two different systems, one shared purpose: stay present and responsive.
By the end of the day, my feet were tired, memory cards were full, and the sense of community lingered long after the last band passed through.
You’ll find me here again next year — not just photographing the parade, but the heartbeat around it.
