Richard Hogenkamp Amsterdam Photography

Richard Hogenkamp Amsterdam Photography Photographer, TV journalist, storyteller in words and pictures. The city through my eyes; silence in the streets of Amsterdam.

Saturday morning. He opened the windows. It didn’t look as bad as the weathermen had predicted. He saw a lot of clouds, ...
03/10/2021

Saturday morning. He opened the windows. It didn’t look as bad as the weathermen had predicted. He saw a lot of clouds, but also a hint of sunshine, somewhere there in the east.
He went down to get breakfast. Then, just after leaving the house, from one moment to another a blanket of fog fell down on the canals and the houses, leaving only some yellow autumn trees to stand out from a city in shades of grey. Instead of going to the bakery in a direct line, he decided to take a detour along the foggy canals.
It only lasted half an hour. Then a breeze came up and as fast as it came, the fog disappeared again.
He went into the bakery, ordered three croissants, walked out again and all of a sudden the sun was shining in his face. For a moment he regretted not having brought sunglasses. But who could have thought?
One hour later the clouds came back again, and then the rain, loads and loads of rain, non-stop. And in the evening it got so windy, that he heard things rolling from one side the other of his roof terrace. He would check tomorrow morning what exactly had been moved.
Four seasons in one day.
It must be October.

I walk along the canals, look down, see the contours of a circle. Few meters later another one. And after few meters aga...
26/09/2021

I walk along the canals, look down, see the contours of a circle. Few meters later another one. And after few meters again those contours. Till I finally realize they mark the places where big yellow stickers told us to maintain one and a half meters of distance. They’re gone. Someone is approaching from the other side. In a reflex I move myself to the right. Maintain your distance. Till I realize I don’t have to anymore. Some called yesterday Liberation Day. Others called it National Hugs Day. Whatever you called it, it was a remarkable day. A little more than one and a half year of social distancing ended. Though I notice it takes me time to get used to the old normal again. When will we all shake hands again when we meet, give kisses when we say goodbye? In a week, in a month? Maybe we finally have found the perfect excuse to not kiss everyone that we actually would not like to kiss at all. One and a half year has for sure changed something in our mind. It is time to become the old ‘us’ again. So yes, just hug someone you haven’t hugged since Spring 2020. Today is the day. National Endorfine Day ❤️

They both didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know because she had never seen such a show before. He didn’t know beca...
23/05/2021

They both didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know because she had never seen such a show before. He didn’t know because he hadn’t seen such a show with all glitter and glamour in one and a half year. She ran to the television and started to dance when the opening theme started. He got goosebumps when he saw her so happy, while at the same moment in the screen pictures were playing that reminded him of his childhood in this country that is more flat than a pancake. Then a transgender magic fiary in candyfloss colors enchanted millions on three different continents after many long gloomy months, and he knew this was a special night.
She danced to Cyprus and went bananas on Malta. She did not undertstand why Portugal had lost all colors and she fell asleep with Spain. He voted on her behalf for Malta. He didn’t understand why Italy won. But it actually did not matter who won and who lost. It didn’t matter which acts were too much over the top and which singers were out of tune. The main thing of the night was that everything felt so familiar, that millions of people were back in the world of one and a half year ago. As if nothing had happened. It felt like it had all been done with just a snap of the finger. The fairy in candyfloss colors knew it wasn’t like that - at all - but she wouldn’t tell anyone. Some nights you just need to believe in magic.

Before December they had never seen each other. The Goldendoodle pup that came here every morning with his owner, the tw...
16/05/2021

Before December they had never seen each other. The Goldendoodle pup that came here every morning with his owner, the two friends that met for a class in the yoga school three times a week, the early bird that started every day with a coffee in the espresso bar and the fit guy that went to the gym around the corner. Then everything changed, and many mornings they were at the same hour at the same little square. The doodle recognised them from afar, with their yoga mats, the takeaway coffee in a carton and the elastic fitness bands. In the beginning he noticed the people were a bit shy to start a conversation, but playful as he was, he ran from one to another and connected them all.
Now it’s May. He has already become quite a big dog, but still he frolics from the yoga mat to the elastic bands to the coffee drinker. Next week the gym will reopen. The guy with the elastic bands promised he would still come here every now and then, but what he did not tell was that he had already made four reservations in the gym. The early bird heard that next week the terrace of the espresso bar would reopen from 7 in the morning and he was really looking forward to sit down there, because the terrace has this perfect view over the canal. The two friends said they would keep doing yoga in the open air, but there was lots of rain in the forecast, so next week they would actually go back inside with their yoga mats.
The Goldendoodle would still come, and so would his owner. The pup would grow even a little bit more, and would still use the little square as his playground, but it would be more empty, and the yoga friends, the early bird and the fit guy, most likely he would never ever see them again.

He lives in the middle of the city center but when he wakes up, he hears village sounds. Birds are singing and playing a...
09/05/2021

He lives in the middle of the city center but when he wakes up, he hears village sounds. Birds are singing and playing around on his roof, performing songs of Spring. It’s May. They have nests, but he doesn’t know where.
He never understood people that only want to live at ground level. He loves the height. In winter, when everyone down there in the street is cold, the sun still warms his apartment. And in summer, when everyone down there in the street is warm, the wind brings a cool breeze into his house. Days up here are just a little longer as they are downstairs. He sees the sun rising minutes earlier than his neighbors at street level do. And at night he still sees the last rays of sunlight, when already no light reaches the street anymore.
He looks again at the birds. They are flying up and down, singing, collecting, delivering. It’s May. Soon he will see baby birds doing there first small attempts to fly.

She brought a bottle of red wine and two plastic glasses. He brought his guitar. They sat down at the little boat dock a...
25/04/2021

She brought a bottle of red wine and two plastic glasses. He brought his guitar. They sat down at the little boat dock along the canal. The sun was almost setting. An increasing wind was blowing over the water. He strummed the guitar and with a very soft voice he started to sing:
When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry…
She put wine in the glasses. As he needed both his hands to play the guitar, she put the glass in front of his lips so he could take a zip in the few seconds that the song had no lyrics. In any other moment in history they would have probably now been in a bar, maybe they would have been watching a movie in the cinema. If she’d still have her weekendjob in a restaurant she might have had enough money to invite him to a concert. He started the refrain:
I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
She stared over the water. When he would have finished the song she’d tell him that it might all be very uncomfortable now, but that at least the rest of their lives they would remember these weird first months of their love.

The concert in front of my window started this morning at 7. It was unannounced, so I was the only spectator. Actually I...
21/02/2021

The concert in front of my window started this morning at 7. It was unannounced, so I was the only spectator. Actually I wonder if the two musicians even noticed that I was there, as I was inside the house and they were sitting in a tree. It was a concert by two happy birds. Happy birds that must have felt that something in the air had changed, that spring vibes were floating through the cloudless sky, that the air around us all of a sudden feels more soft than it did two weeks ago when we were having a snow blizzard, and than it did one week ago when people were ice skating on the frozen ponds in the nearby park.
The concert went on for one and a half hour, then the two birds flew off, I imagined to do some research around the neighborhood to see where very soon they could claim their space to make a nest. From snow blizzard to ice skating to birds thinking about nesting, what a difference a week makes.

Ode to the lonely, courageous and persistent cyclist.She saw the weather forecast. If it goes on like this, in the weeke...
09/02/2021

Ode to the lonely, courageous and persistent cyclist.
She saw the weather forecast. If it goes on like this, in the weekend - maybe - it will be possible to iceskate on the canals. She realises her iceskates are in the storage at her sister’s place. Years ago, she left all her winter stuff there, thinking there would never be real snowy, icy winters in Amsterdam anymore and because in her own litlle apartment there’s no space for a sledge, skates and a big box with thick winter boots.
She lives in the west of the city, her sister lives in the east. Because of the snow, trams are not running, she has no car. So she desices to go on her bike. The streets are slippery and while she’s on the way, it starts snowing more and more. It takes her 40 minutes to get to her sister; normally that would be only 15. Her sister took her iceskates out of the storage already, They are lying down on the kitchen table, next to a cup of hot chocalate milk.
After warming up, she jumps on her bike again, on her way back home. She decides to cycle through the park. Normally there are hundreds of cyclists here at any time of the day. Today there are none, hikers all the more. And dogs, frolicking around, running from left to right without looking. And kids, throwing snowballs from one side of the road to the other. One almost hits her, but she doesn’t mind. The park today is a happy place, and she is a happy cyclist, carrying her iceskates in her red bag on the handlebar. Another 20 minutes from here, until she’ll be home. Then she is ready for the weekend.

Last night he had to think about the winter of 1979, about the morning he woke up and couldn’t see the picket fence, onl...
07/02/2021

Last night he had to think about the winter of 1979, about the morning he woke up and couldn’t see the picket fence, only 3 meters away from the kitchen window. It had snowed so much in the night that the garden had changed into a polar landscape full of snow dunes.
In the last days the weathermen had told everyone in the Netherlands that this Sunday’s snowfall would be as memorable as the one on ‘79. He couldn’t wait!
While daydreaming about the winter of ‘79, he falls asleep, sliding into a real winter wonderland dream. Then, at 2 he wakes up and runs to the window. Yes, the first snow is falling! He wants to go for a long walk in the neighborhood, feeling the snow on his face. But he doesn’t want to risk a fine for ignoring the curfew, so he goes back to sleep. Then wakes up again at 5. From his bedroom window he sees there is a real little layer of snow already in the streets. He thinks again about going out to walk in the snow. But at this hour the streets are only a place for the homeless, the drunk and the broken-hearted, and he’s none of those. Once again he goes to sleep, wakes up at 7. This time he doesn’t want to wait anymore, puts his gloves, hat, winter boots. Off he goes, to the streets. He starts walking, snowflakes falling on his nose, on his cheeks, on his ears. The snow dunes that had been predicted by the weathermen are nowhere to be seen, but is doesn’t matter. He feels happy, excited, amazed. And for a moment he feels like the little boy again, that he was in 1979.

He is exactly as old as my daughter. When he was one and a half years old, he moved from Kopenhagen to Amsterdam. At the...
28/01/2021

He is exactly as old as my daughter. When he was one and a half years old, he moved from Kopenhagen to Amsterdam. At the time, we still thought of him as a toddler, but in his world he was already a young adult, time to leave the parental home. He built a new life with his two wifes. Their house was pretty small, but there were big plans to give the three of them a really nice new, spacious residence very soon; something similar to the neighbors, those giants with the big trunks. Their new home was really going to be something!
My daughter was standing face to face with him four times, or maybe five. His manes were impressive. With all that fluffy hair, he looked like a cuddly toy, but she knew he was a dangerous guy. She always took one step back. I guess our instinct hardly ever lets us down. I remember once she growled, while standing in front of him, like in the cartoons. She had so much fun. He was not impressed. At all.
This morning there is sad news in my mailbox. He will have to leave, together with his two wifes. As the zoo is not allowed to have any visitors already for months, they had to raid the savings account for the new loin’s home so the zoo would at least remain solvent. Now there is no money left anymore to build a new, nice residence for him and his little family and the three Amsterdam lions have to go. Every day the crisis that we are in surprises us with new consequences. This one, I really didn’t see coming.
After almost 200 years no lions will live in Amsterdam anymore. Those who want to see one, will have to go to the museum. But a lion on a painting is nothing like a real one. And toddlers roaring to a piece of paper from the 17th century, it just simply isn't the same type of fun.

The square, bathing in a sea of ​​light, looks like an abandoned film set. The crew is having diner. They will be back i...
12/01/2021

The square, bathing in a sea of ​​light, looks like an abandoned film set. The crew is having diner. They will be back in half an hour, the runners, cameramen, sound. Then the actors and the director will arrive. ‘And... Action!’
But this is not a movie set. This is Amsterdam. At six o'clock on a weeknight. Here people should hurry home on their bikes, getting angry about a tourist, unexpectedly crossing the cycle path. Here, at this hour, people are supposed to enter the bar for a pre-dinner drink. And between the trees a child should be playing with a ball.
This square has been quiet since midst October. The owners of the bars and their staff are having a forced sabitacal, already for three months now. Tonight the prime minister will announce that they will have to stay closed, at least until mid February, just like schools, shops, museums, hairdressers, daycares, gyms.
They say there is always light at the end of the tunnel, but every few weeks we discover that this tunnel is longer than we had expected, or hoped. So let’s brace ourselves once again. Hold on; stay strong. Until after the next dark bend in the tunnel, hopefully finally the exit becomes visible. The exit, where we all deserve a medal for stamina and fighting spirit.

And like that the first days of January 2021 became the quietest start of a year, ever. Normally on a Sunday morning, th...
03/01/2021

And like that the first days of January 2021 became the quietest start of a year, ever. Normally on a Sunday morning, the sound of a cappuccino machine would already be heard from somewhere. Someone would walk to the newsstand this morning to buy a foreign Sunday newspaper, that had just arrived on the first plane from London or Berlin. And someone would cross the bridge on a rattling bicycle on the way back home from a run-out party. Now just silence echoes against the tall facades of the old city center. Or… Wait... A voice comes from one of the deserted alleys. A homeless man reciting texts in French. He says that he is the mayor of Paris and that he has come to Amsterdam to tell what needs to be done to get the city out of this current situation, but there is no one on the streets to listen to his words.
The first days of January and there is nobody in town.

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