Here is Janet Delaney's "Coffee and a Sandwich", which is part of her New York City, 1984-1987 collection. First, her angle: Delaney is seated at a neighboring table and the camera is at eye-level with the man; photographer and subject are equal. There is no attempt on her part to look down on him, nor is this a kind of furtive surveillance (as might be conveyed by a shot taken from farther off or from the side). Nor is it shot from beneath as if to ennoble her subject. And so we get a look at this man's comforts, habits, routines. The objects on the table are arranged like a bulwark between him (and his breakfast and the paper) and the rest of the world. Cream cheese and jelly on a roll, dipped right into the coffee—a somewhat idiosyncratic pairing, if not outside the pale. The newspaper folded over for one-handed reading—again, not unusual—still testifies to the routine: this appears to be where he reads it every day (or at least Monday to Friday). The man himself: disheveled hair, undone collar, and somewhat rumpled suit jacket—he is is no master of the universe, but some schlub with an office job. But he comes here every morning and leans into the paper, leans into his breakfast, and the light comes in through the window and bounces off the table and the newspaper and illuminates his face. This routine gives his day some dignity, and Delaney, beautifully, accords him a similar respect.