In the last edition of the newsletter I already spoke about all the last major things on Summer in the City. Those being the third edition of Summer in the City zine, and the exhibition at Black Gold Amsterdam. The walls are now lined with photographs that capture the warm vibrant feeling of the Summer in Amsterdam. Seeing those images finally om display during the correct season felt really satisfying, and like a chapter that’s finally closed.
The frantic days of printing, stuffing envelopes, and wrestling with logistics are behind us. No more last‑minute runs for extra 25 sheets of paper, no more scramble to schedule openings or draft announcements. Instead, there’s a quiet sense that this project has run its natural course. We’ve moved from birth, through growth, to a gentle settling.
For the first time we actually have surplus copies. Now I can hand a copy to a curious friend who drops by, or fulfill that “Do you still have any left?” request that pops up from time to time. That lingering, organic interest feels like the afterglow of a finished work, still alive in conversation, still worth pulling out and showing.
The exhibition will stay up until mid‑September, we wanted to do a closing party rather than a launching one, but that was not possible to organize. Though I’m currently in Portugal and the distance makes the buzz feel a little muted, it’s heartening to see friends tagging me in their Instagram stories when they stop by the café.
Thank you all for the enthusiasm you’ve shown for this project. It’s been embraced by more people than we could have imagined. Boris and I are genuinely happy.
And while I am here, visiting family and friends I am also still delivering a few copies into the hands of some fellow country people that bought first editions of the zine. A vocês, um Muito Obrigado!
Scanning. Another ongoing effort present in the last issue deserves an erratum. In the previous edition I blamed certain films and stocks, but as I’ve digitized more and more rolls, the real culprit has emerged: my camera itself. The problem isn’t the film choice, it’s the worn light seals. I’ll be swapping those out as soon as I am back from Portugal. It’s also a reminder that developing as close to the shoot as possible helps keeping more on top of these things.
I will now let you feast your eyes on some 35mm frames.
All of my color frames are now digitized, and in October I’ll move on to developing and scanning the entire batch of 2024 black‑and‑white film. The quest goes on!
Whenever a frame or a processed image catches my eye, I’ll share it on social media in a quick, low‑effort post. Not everything has to become an epic project, sometimes a simple share of a frame is enough.
Book corner
Everything OK Not OK by Piet Oosterbeek
Piet Oosterbeek sketches a two‑fold story about young people in Tbilisi, Georgia, while probing it with an outsider Western's gaze mixing empathy, with curiosity and romanticism.
Boris and I were at Hothead Radio hoping they would stock our Summer in the City zine. While we waited for an overly friendly shopper to finish is fat chat with the shop clerk, we browsed the shelves at the sound of their playlist. It didn't take long for the shop to feel right for our zine, and soon enough we were calling each other to show how cool was the thing we were holding. A Portuguese catalogue of a tapestry exhibition definitely caught my eye, the sort of niche find that makes small bookshops treasures. Then another spine caught my eye. A rough matte black cardboard cover with metallic grey accents shined at me like I was a magpie, and I took the bait!
The materialism alone sparked curiosity, since the cover did follow along what the spine has promised, More metallic gray shouted at me to open the book. Inside, the photographs take us eastward. Grey, towering blocks of concrete make not mistake of us assuming that we are indeed in Easter Europe. Albeit mostly sad and gray, there's one striking image, a sunset bathes a concrete facade in gold, turning brutalism into unexpected romance, a visual echo of a Western eye gazing into the East.
The teenagers portrayed exude the “Ok Not Ok” ambivalence that the title holds. They carry an air of resilience and style, sometimes imposing postures, but their faces read very differently. These images then contrast with some striking religious themes that surprise you in some of the photos. What's religion doing in this book? Why does it come with a fold out poster of an orthodox cross?
If you’re like me, you read the text last when it comes to photography. I prefer to give the photos their own space, letting them speak for themselves, and in this book they do exactly that. The foreword pinpoints the tension I felt: Georgia’s Orthodox Church still wields enormous influence, and its conservative values weigh heavily on public life.
Against that backdrop, the young people in the photographs with tattoos, dyed hair, piercings, and smoking cigarettes are more than just cool kids. They’re are the definition of counter-culture, the resistance trying to carve out space in a society that isn’t ready to accept them.
There’s a double vision at play. On one hand, the book feels like an outsider’s observation of Tbilisi’s subcultures. On the other, there’s genuine empathy in the portraits, a sincere attempt to connect with the “not OK” thread that runs through the work. Oosterbeek balances curiosity with care, delivering a nuanced portrait of a city caught between tradition and rebellion.
Inspiration
A BIG EVENT ⛵
This past August, Amsterdam finally saw another edition of SAIL. A massive maritime event that only comes around once every five years. The last one was back in 2015. Thanks Covid!!
The clue is in the name: ships. Since 1975, tall ships and sailing boats have been cruising into the city, originally to celebrate Amsterdam’s 700th birthday. The people liked it so much, that it became a tradition. Fast forward to today where Amsterdam is turning 750 years old.
I couldn't miss it! I went out almost every day, camera slung over my shoulder, two more lenses in my bag, around I went chasing everything from gigantic vessels to funny little boats. Sunlight bounced off the shimmering water, turning ship hulls into glowing backdrops for the people looking up. One evening, a perfect sunset lit the whole scene. I even busted out my Polaroid which does not see the light of day so often these days.
Sure, it left me tired, but it was the best kind of tired. Events like this are bursting with life, and for a photographer, that’s pure fuel. SAIL reminded me how much joy there is in throwing yourself into the action, letting the energy carry you, and shooting until your belly, battery or legs give up!
That’s it for this month.
There will be no September newsletter as I am taking some time off away from home. So see you later in October 👋
If would like to support me and my work, you can do so via paypal, or by purchasing a print from my Etsy store.
Copyright (C) 2025 Nuno Cruz. All rights reserved.
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