If you’ve ever seen one of Jamel Shabazz’s photographs of early 1980s street fashions, you’d probably expect him to have a strong sense of style. And with his closely cropped hair, wisp of a mustache, gold-framed glasses and gold leather jacket, he looks the part. But behind the stylish facade, you’ll also find a serious artist, one who sees his photographs as a way of communicating his vision of the world to others. Shabazz, a New York-based photographer, has just published his first book, “Back in the Days,” published by Powerhouse Books. The photos capture the burgeoning hip-hop culture, focusing on the era’s fashions – Puma sneakers, Kangol caps, chunky square-rimmed glasses. These portraits of ordinary people on the streets of Brooklyn, Harlem and the Bronx reveal an eye attuned to everyday beauty. But they are also important sociological documents, recording a lifestyle that would soon influence all aspects of American fashion, music and culture. The book’s introduction by rap legend Fab 5 Freddy adds to the old-school credentials.

Shabazz’s first solo New York show is sure to resonate with anyone who remembers the early days of hip-hop or who wants to see how this American art form developed from the sidewalks of New York over 20 years ago.

Shabazz follows in the tradition of other photographers, like Jacob Riis and James Van Der Zee, who chronicled New York’s everyday life. His photos form a part of the unofficial history of the city, combining the formality of the studio with the spontaneity and grittiness of the street.

“Gates, walls, subways – those were my galleries, my backdrops,” he says. “I’m not into synthetic imagery.”

Shabazz, 41, works as a corrections officer but has been taking pictures since high school. Born in Brooklyn, he grew up surrounded by cameras. His father spent eight years as a navy photographer and returned with images of the Mediterranean that entranced the young Shabazz. He started photographing his friends and schoolmates at age 15, taking up collections to cover film-developing costs.

Returning to Brooklyn in 1980 after three years in the army, Shabazz felt the need to “reconnect with the community, with the people and the city,” and photography was the most natural way to do that.

He began walking the streets near his home, compiling what he calls his “visual diary.” “It was an obsession for me,” he says. “I had to have a camera with me every day.”

His technique was straightforward – complimenting the clothes of his subjects, showing them other photographs he had taken, carefully earning their trust. “I had to humble myself,” he recalls. “Some people would threaten me; they didn’t know if I was a police officer or a pervert, or what. But as time passed and they saw my work, they would become friends.”

Leafing through his book one day recently, Shabazz pauses at several of the images, recalling details about his subjects – the young woman strutting on top of a park bench in Brooklyn; a family of five in front of their Harlem brownstone. Most of his subjects had little experience posing before a camera, he says, but this offered him some artistic freedom.

“I had to pose them,” he says. “I liked taking a person who was stiff, and creating something. I could shape them like clay and bring out beauty.”

Though he would take less than five minutes with his subjects, Shabazz says he tried to develop a relationship with them. With younger kids, he would encourage them with their schoolwork. With teenagers, he would compliment their taste in clothes and ask about their plans for the future. These brief conversations helped create a relaxed atmosphere that gives each photograph an immediacy and intimacy. His subjects look directly into the lens, radiating pride and self-possession with their faces held high, their arms and legs set in confident poses.

But “Back in the Days” is not just about fashion-savvy kids. In a section titled “Gone But Not Forgotten,” Shabazz included photographs of those who did not survive to see the book’s publication. In a calm, measured voice, he recounts the various ways they died: suicides, AIDS, gang killings. None of this is explained in the book: “I wanted to leave you in suspense as to what happened to these people,” he says. “I did it to provoke thought. This is when the reality hits – a tribute and a memorial.”

He says he has hundreds of images that deal more explicitly with homelessness, drug abuse, prostitution, and AIDS. He hopes his next book will allow him to display some of his grittier photographs, and not be so focused on fashion. Collectors and magazines are “more interested in the old school,” he says. “But the social commentary always meant a lot more to me.”

Capturing his surroundings on film seems to nourish Shabazz, to help him understand his place in the world. “Photography is my way of getting high,” he explains. “It gives me a sense of purpose. I can share my world.”