Amsterdam is a city of contrasts: centuries-old canals and gabled facades alongside a vibrant, forward-looking urban energy. For Trope Amsterdam, the twelfth volume in our City Edition series, we worked with 14 independent photographers from Amsterdam and beyond, each bringing a distinct eye to the city's architecture and landscapes. In Behind the Shot, hear directly from a few of them about the ideas and inspiration behind their images, and the stories that give each photograph its character.
John Michael Rivera
The sky was heavy with clouds that day, and the light was completely flat — no sun, no shadows, just this soft, muted grey wrapping around everything. I almost wished for better light, but honestly, it made the place feel even more still, almost like the whole courtyard had been muffled on purpose. It wasn't only a visual thing either. The grass was so green and full that I wanted to lie down in it right there. There was this quiet you could actually feel, the kind that makes you lower your own voice without thinking about it, and the smell of fresh bread drifting over from a nearby bakery, mixing with the damp morning air. I remember just standing there for a minute before I even lifted the camera, taking it all in with more than just my eyes — letting the place settle in before I tried to capture it.
On our last day in the city, I went back specifically for that shot. I wanted the same angle, the same feeling I'd had two days earlier, and I didn't want to leave Amsterdam without it. The tour boats were docked right in front of the houses, and for once they were actually still when I pressed the shutter — a bit of luck I wasn't counting on, since that stretch of the canal is rarely that calm. I stood there for a while afterward just imagining what it would be like to actually live in one of those houses: thousands of tourists passing under your window every single day, cameras pointed straight at your front door, and yet the buildings themselves seem completely undisturbed by it, almost separate from the world outside. The way they lean into each other only adds to that feeling — like they've been standing there, holding each other up, for centuries, unbothered by anyone looking up at them.
Francine Van Der Wansem
View of the Leidsegracht. Photo taken by Francine Van Der Wansem.
This photo was taken during one of my photowalks through Amsterdam. I often walk around the city with my camera without a specific shot in mind, just looking for interesting compositions and waiting for the right moment to happen.
I had stopped at this spot because I loved the view: the canal, the bridge, the trees and the beautiful Amsterdam canal houses all came together perfectly. But it still felt like something was missing. So I stayed there for a while and waited. Eventually, this boat came into view and passed exactly where I wanted it to. That was the moment I had been waiting for.
It’s one of the things I love most about photographing Amsterdam. You can find a beautiful composition almost anywhere, but sometimes it’s simply a matter of being patient and letting the city add that final element to the frame.
View of Waalseiland from Oosterdok. Photo taken by Francine Van Der Wansem.
This photo was also taken while I was out on a photowalk in Amsterdam. The light was beautiful that evening, and I loved how calm the water and the city felt. I found my composition and then, again, I waited.
When this little boat appeared, I knew it was the element the photo needed. I waited until it reached just the right place in the frame before taking the shot. It was such a simple moment, but that’s often what I enjoy most about photography: slowing down, observing what’s happening around me, and waiting for all the pieces to fall into place.
Amsterdam is a city I’ve photographed many times, but moments like this remind me that there is always something new to capture, even in places that feel very familiar.
Marcin Kolodziej
View outside Centraal Station. Photo taken by Marcin Kolodziej.
The picture was taken during one of my “escape afternoons.” Photography, for me, is a way of switching off from day-to-day life and, for a few hours, allowing myself to wander, observe, and simply be present.
I took this picture in late August, on one of those warm, late-summer afternoons when the sun feels softer and you know the season is slowly coming to an end. As I walked past, I noticed a stranger sitting on a curb with her eyes closed, quietly soaking up the last of the afternoon sun.
It made me wonder about her story. Was she coming back from somewhere, taking a moment for herself, or perhaps waiting for someone to arrive? I’ll never know. I didn’t want to interrupt her moment of peace, so I walked behind her and took the picture from a distance.
For me, the photograph is less about knowing who she was or where she was going, and more about capturing that brief, peaceful moment—a stranger enjoying the warmth of the sun, completely lost in her own thoughts.
Olesja Allen
Left: View of Albert Cuypstraat. Right: Intersection of Overtoom and Tweede Constantijn Huygensstraat. Photos taken by Olesja Allen.
When you first move somewhere new, everything feels exciting. You notice everything. The canals, all the bikes, people rushing around, the markets, even just walking to get a coffee feels like something worth taking a photo of.
Then you live there for a while and it just becomes your everyday life. I think taking photos keeps me from getting too used to it. It makes me look around and remember, oh yeah, I live here. People travel from all over the world to see this place and I get to call it home.
I’m drawn to the really ordinary parts of Amsterdam just as much as the obvious ones. Walking through Albert Cuyp, getting a coffee and pastry somewhere popular and feeling like a total tourist even though I live here, bikes piled up along a street. And the architecture gets me every time. All these old, slightly crooked buildings, some leaning so much they almost look like they’re holding each other up. There’s something really romantic about it. I love when the greenery starts taking over too, growing around the windows and across the facades.
I notice it even more when I’ve been away. Coming back to Amsterdam has this immediate feeling of coziness. The bikes, the buildings, the canals, all of it feels familiar again. It feels like home. And I still find myself stopping to take a photo of something I’ve probably walked past a hundred times.
I guess photography is my way of making sure I’m still noticing.
Ana Secui
Corner of Lijnbaansgracht and Korte Leidsedwarsstraat. Photo taken by Ana Secui.
I took this picture on my morning commute. It had snowed overnight, a rare event these days, and I really wanted to capture a snowy Amsterdam. I woke up early to take a scenic detour to the office, and it really paid off. It was a great idea, because it was such a beautiful scene. The city was just waking up, with everyone navigating through the fresh snow. The best part was when the sun started shining, illuminating the streets with the golden light. I immediately saw this building with the old saloon signs and the sun reflecting in the windows. It turned out to be one of my favorite photos of the city.
Intersection of the Herengracht and the Brouwersgracht. Photo taken by Ana Secui.
Taken on one of my very first photo walks through Amsterdam back in late November. I woke up early on a Saturday morning to go out and take pictures, which meant I had the entire city to myself. The autumn colors were still peaking, the trees still having their orange and yellow leaves. The canals were really still, creating perfect mirror reflections of the canal houses. It was a really beautiful morning and it shows how beautiful Amsterdam is during fall.
Oleg Kuzmin
View of Munttoren. Photo taken by Oleg Kuzmin.
Munttoren is one of those Amsterdam landmarks that I return to with my camera again and again. It rises above one of the busiest parts of the city, surrounded by trams, bicycles, pedestrians, cafés, and a cinema. The scene is always in motion, so it is almost impossible to plan exactly what will happen within the frame.
I remember this particular evening very clearly. My partner and I were walking along Reguliersbreestraat on our way to the cinema. It had been a grey, overcast weekday, and I did not expect to take any photographs. I had brought my camera almost out of habit, just in case.
Then, for only a few seconds, the sun broke through the clouds. The autumn sun was already low, and its warm light illuminated the tower and the surrounding façades. I stopped immediately and took several frames.
At that moment, I noticed a young man in a coat crossing the street. Against the glowing tower and the movement of the city around him, he looked like the protagonist of a film suddenly entering the scene. I caught him mid-step, and almost immediately the light disappeared.
This photograph reminds me why I carry a camera, even when I don't expect to use it. Sometimes the entire character of a city changes for only a few seconds, and you simply have to be ready.
View of the Looiersgracht. Photo taken by Oleg Kuzmin.
Snow in Amsterdam has become rare and often fleeting, so a real snowfall feels like an event. On January 7, 2026, heavy snow was forecasted, a “Code Orange” weather warning was in effect, and people were advised to stay home if possible. To me, as a photographer, it sounded almost like an invitation to go out with my camera.
At around six in the morning, before the workday began, I set off for the city center by bicycle. The ride was difficult: my tires kept slipping, and several times I nearly fell. But when I reached the center and the snow began falling heavily, all of that was forgotten. I was simply happy to be there.
Daylight was beginning to appear, but the lamps along the canal were still glowing. The snow transformed the old façades and bridges, and the familiar city suddenly felt like a scene from another time. I stood in front of one of Amsterdam’s most picturesque canals, completely captivated by the first light of morning, the warm lamps, and the falling snow.
This remains one of my favorite photographs. It preserves not only a rare snowy morning in Amsterdam, but also the feeling I am always searching for: the moment when a familiar city briefly reveals a hidden, almost timeless side of itself.
Andy Barrow
View of Albert Cuypstraat. Photo taken by Andy Barrow.
Amsterdam has a few of these sweeping streets near the De La Mar Theatre, Oud West, De Pijp, Plantage and it creates these patterns and geometrics that give off an Escher or magic eye vibe. For a relatively compact city these types of streets remind me more of those grand sweeping streets & boulevards in somewhere like London or Paris.
I was walking towards the market and Metro when I happened to look back over my shoulder. The scene immediately caught my attention. I framed the wide shot and waited. A lone figure stepped into the left side of the frame and stopped at exactly the right moment, while a cyclist moved through the bend in the road, adding a sense of flow and movement to the composition.
What I enjoy most about the image is that it doesn't immediately feel like modern Amsterdam. There's a timelessness to it that reminds me of shots by Jamel Shabazz and Joe Conzo Jr, where the city itself becomes a character in the story. It feels like a movie still, an album cover, a part of a bigger story.
View from Willemsparkweg. Photo taken by Andy Barrow.
On sunny days, Amsterdam's terraces come alive and the city seems to take on a different energy. The terrace at George attracts an interesting mix of people and has an atmosphere that feels effortlessly chic. Places like this, along with the busy squares and cafés around De Pijp, are perfect for reportage and street photography because scenes are constantly unfolding right in front of you.
It was a sunny summer afternoon, creating strong contrast, bright whites, and deep shadows. I saw this guy behind me–crisp white shirt, hair slicked back, and the shades–it gave off a very Paris or Hollywood feel.
The white of the table, the parasol in the background and the trees behind him all seemed to line up the framing and composition nicely. It naturally draws the attention to the subject but it never feels forced.
This image, along with one or two others from the same session, remains among my favorite black-and-white photographs I've taken in Amsterdam.
View of Magere Brug. Photo taken by Roger Janssen.
This photo of the Skinny Bridge across the Amstel River is not my best shot, but it has special meaning to me. We need to go back in time to February 2021: some serious winter weather is expected for the first time in years. A snow blizzard with -10°C, wind force 8, and in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. The country is in lockdown, you can only walk alone or in pairs outside and you have to keep 1.5m distance to anyone else. And there is a curfew, from 9:00pm until 4:30am.
So it's 4:15am, it's dark and the blizzard is raging, my gear and I feel ready, and I am anxiously waiting for the clock to hit 4:30am. At exactly that moment I jump on my bicycle—yep, I am a badass—and wrestle against the wind and snow to my first intended location: the Skinny Bridge.
Once there I first bring out my analog camera, but when I am ready to expose, the battery already is drained by the cold and the aperture blades are frozen stuck. So digital it is.
I don't have a lot of hope to catch a passerby, (it's a blizzard and 5:30am), but on cue a couple appears and stops dead center on the bridge. They hold each other briefly and take some selfies and enjoy this once in a decade blizzard in an otherwise empty Amsterdam. These are the moments where you count your blessings as a photographer, and I will always treasure this moment.
View of Rijksmuseum. Photo taken by Roger Janssen.
I always enjoy foggy circumstances. Just the idea of the ability to capture Amsterdam in a moody atmosphere with that special light makes my heart skip a beat when fog is expected. Roaming the streets in these circumstances feels a bit like meditation. You feel isolated from the rest of the world, it's quiet, and you feel like you're in a movie scene. You never know where in the city center the fog will be the thickest, and it moves around, so when you are able to capture it with one of the iconic buildings, it feels like a bonus. Here the Rijksmuseum is looming in some light fog and of course the one tiny pedestrian adds a bit to mysterious vibes.
Corner of Oude Turfmarkt and Nieuwe Doelenstraat. Photo taken by Roger Janssen.
All of the silhouettes in my images in this book are unsuspecting pedestrians that unknowingly have been immortalized in one of my frames. You might think that I need a lot of luck for my type of shooting, but that's actually a small factor in reality. A lot of my shooting is approached similarly to how landscape photographers work. I monitor the weather, and when the circumstances are right—in this case sunny with a light haze—I plan a route that I'll follow the next morning just after sunrise.
I plan about six locations, all depending on the position of the sun, its height and angle, and how it will light up a street or building. I'll stay at such a location for 10-30 minutes before the sun moved on and I make my way to the next spot. This way I know I will have perfect light at least at those selected locations and maximize the chance of getting an interesting shot. So it is all about planning, although some luck is still required.
Unexpected clouds may pop up and force you to abandon or rethink. A supermarket delivery van may have parked right in your line of sight. Somebody decided to start some renovation works (it feels like half of our city is a construction site). Or indeed, my expectations of an unsuspecting pedestrian popping up may turn out to be too optimistic. So some luck is needed, but location scouting and planning is the most important factor in getting these shots.
Trope Amsterdam will be available late October 2026. Pre-order your copy today.