If you’ve been following me since the beginning, you’ll know I originally intended this newsletter to be a monthly thing. But the reality of things is that I feel unable to keep up with such a commitment while giving each issue the proper time and preparation I’d like.
To keep this newsletter a healthy habit — and something that brings me joy rather than pressure — I’m switching to an “issue #” format and will simply increment the number as I go. Now you can think about the Roman Empire every time a new issue lands in your inbox. ;)
Editing spotlight
In the last edition of this newsletter, I talked about my experience shooting for the Spotlight project.
This time, I want to talk a bit about the editing. Just like before, I had a surprise waiting for me. During the shoot, the big challenge was constantly adjusting the framing because people were coming in quick succession and everyone had different body types. This time, it was a flash misfire that led to something quite unexpected.
Another new aspect of this session was that it happened outdoors. Because of that, I set my camera to practically kill the available light and rely solely on my snooted flash for exposure. But what ended up happening is that the flash didn't always fire and some natural light still slipped in, hitting the sensor and lighting up faces just enough, while the black background continued doing its job of swallowing most of the photons.
Now, for the laypeople out there: cameras can shoot in a file format called RAW. A RAW file stays true to what the camera “sees” and records as data. It’s a flexible, forgiving format that allows much more room to fix mistakes or make deeper edits than a more final (and compressed) format like JPEG.
With this in mind, I tried salvaging the exposure in post-processing and voilà! The first natural-light Spotlight portraits were born. And let me tell you: they won me over immediately. I really love the bleached-out, grainy, almost film-like quality that came out of these accidents. For many of the portraits, those misfired exposures ended up becoming the final selection.
What these little surprises always show me is that Spotlight keeps evolving whether I intend it to or not. I always go in with one basic premise, the technical aspect of how I need to setup things up. But every time, the shoot quietly shifts into its own direction.
The quick sessions gave rise to interruptions: being friends crashing into the frame, or couples taking the chance for a joint shoot. Someone’s shyness or playfulness led to using a prop, the flash misfires - none of it was planned, but all of it taught me something about how this work wants to manifest itself.
While strangers can appreciate the results of this technical setup — the ability to focus on the subtle facial expressions of each subject — for me, Spotlight is becoming more and more about the experience itself.
Unfortunately there's no book review in this edition. But there’s a lot of inspiration and reflections on starting this newsletter.
INSPIRATION
The Art of Confusion: How Markets Transformed Exclusion into Value
Last month, I came across this article that hit the nail on the head of an attitude I’ve had for a long time: calling bullshit on bullshit art.
The art world has mastered the trick of turning vagueness into value. If something feels incomprehensible, that’s the point, and you’re meant to applaud it anyway - It’s Art! - people say.
The article calls this out for what it is: a power game built on jargon and opacity. And the proposed antidote is a call for a “re-education of the gaze” - choosing clarity as a radical act and insisting that it doesn’t need to hide in the fog to mean something.
The Spoken Word
As the concert season pushed deeper into November, I found myself unexpectedly immersed in two beautiful spoken word performances — one by Saul Williams at Le Guess Who?, and the other by Aja Monet at Super Sonic Jazz.
Both shows were charged with powerful words of activism, revolt against colonial crimes of the past, and a fierce critique of the apartheid-like behaviors we still witness today. Saul’s performance was political through and through — intense, sharp, relentless. Aja Monet carried that same fire, but she also left space for tenderness, closing with love and care.
Neither poet stood onstage alone. They were joined by brilliant musicians whose improvisational jazz didn’t just accompany the words, it electrified them. The interplay between poetry and sound made each performance feel alive, with the right emphasis (or lack thereof) where it was needed.
To share a little of that energy and what I felt with you — and maybe spark some inspiration of your own — here are a few links:
Assata Shakur’s poem Affirmation– Something Saul wove into his performance with incredible force, leaving a clear message about the walls built around us today:
“And, If I know anything at all It’s that a wall is just a wall And nothing more at all It can be broken down.”
A YouTube piece from Saul Williams – His posture, presence, and (non-ironically) his command of language keep you locked into every word. He has truly mastered the art of spoken word.
Looking back
Since this is my last entry of 2025, I want to take the opportunity to look back at the successes, failures and surprises of starting to write these newsletters.
Writing the “Working On” section each month has become a surprisingly good way of quieting that persistent inner voice that says I haven’t done enough. Month after month, I’d sit down convinced I had little to show, only to realise I’d done far more than I remembered. We’re experts at self-sabotage, and this simple act of reviewing the month has been an antidote to that.
When I started, I thought a monthly cadence would be manageable. Turns out it was not quite. A few editions were written entirely in the last days of the month, squeezed in with a bit of a rushed book review. My original idea was to build the newsletter slowly over the month, but I struggled to make time for that rhythm. By August, I had to admit defeat — the newsletter went out two weeks late, and September disappeared altogether due to life circumstances. It just didn’t make sense to force it.
It’s definitely not as easy as I’d hoped, and while I’ll keep aiming for end-of-month releases, I’m planning to be kinder to myself. As you read above, I am now counting the issues as I go. I’d rather publish less often than push out something rushed in the final hours.
It’s been a genuinely nice experience — structuring thoughts, trying to write well, and revisiting the English language with a bit of care. It also helps that I’ve started dating someone who studied language and has begun gently reviewing my grammar and sentence structure since the last edition. And of course, like most of us, I’ve relied on those giant heuristic tools trained on the world’s texts. They’re incredibly helpful when the right words slip away and you need a hand for conveying what you want so say.
The book corner has been doing its job well. I’m really enjoying giving more attention to my photobook collection — something I always wanted to spend more time with.
The “Inspiration” corner has become its own little ritual. Every month I ask myself: What has enriched me lately? It’s a simple question, but a beautiful one — and one I’d like to keep asking outside of the newsletter too.
What surprised me most was the feedback. I started this as a personal exercise, a small attempt at contributing something positive to a world drowning in “content.” But people began reaching out — with appreciation, curiosity, kindness, gratitude. Thank you for that. Truly.
Somehow, a quiet little community has formed around this. More people have shared their wish to do something similar, and a tiny ecosystem of newsletters has started to grow — people inspiring each other, cheering each other on. It’s been one of the most unexpected and heartwarming parts of this whole experience.
That’s it for this year.
Thank you once again for being on this journey with me. It’s always lovely to hear and feel your feedback - whether it comes directly right after a newsletter goes out, or weeks later in a passing conversation. Th0se latter are always small surprises mean a lot and warm my heart.
Hop into the new year with the right foot, and I’ll see you in your inbox on the other side!
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Copyright (C) 2025 Nuno Cruz. All rights reserved.
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