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Nicoletta Raitz

@nicolettaraitz

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photographer • writer • founder
editorial-romantic register • Amsterdam

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A season of restless skies, Amsterdam.

“Now the sky is thin; now the sky is full of tall, white, faceless clouds.” — Virginia Woolf Black and white photograph of canal houses on the Herengracht in Amsterdam, tram cables crossing overhead and a single bright cumulus cloud rising behind the gabled rooftops. taken in Herengracht, Amsterdam by @nicolettaraitz

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3 months ago

Vienna keeps its beauty the way it always has — under glass, behind gold leaf, framed and lit and just out of reach.

Caryatids shoulder a doorway. The Dorotheum still trades the empire’s memories by the lot. Krapfen are dusted and displayed like fine gems and, at the end, a queen stands preserved in a frame glowing the way she never was in life. The whole city is vanished grandeur behind the glass of its own display case.

I think I’ll dream about Vienna until I find my way back.

“The places we have known do not belong solely to the world of space in which we situate them for our greater convenience. They were only a thin slice among contiguous impressions which formed our life at that time; the memory of a certain image is but regret for a certain moment; and houses, roads, avenues are as fleeting, alas, as the years.” — Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way Two caryatid figures supporting a stone doorway on a neoclassical Vienna facade, a man in a dark coat walking past on the street. taken in Stephansdom, Vienna by @nicolettaraitz

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3 months ago

The wind whispered, stay a little longer.
I almost did.

“This summer evening, hushed and lone; Yet the faint wind comes soothingly, With something of an olden tone.”
— Emily Brontë, through a Bath window at dusk taken in Bath, UK by @nicolettaraitz

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4 months ago

Midsummer in Amsterdam, missing the fog.

“The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms.” — Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol Arched stone canal bridge in Amsterdam on a foggy winter morning, bicycles leaning against the cast-iron railing, a lone figure walking a bike between two lantern posts, the three arches reflected as full circles in the still water. taken in Amsterdam, Netherlands by @nicolettaraitz

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3 months ago

Dear Bath, to a week loving you sideways: through a window, between leaves, across the falling water.

“To be quiet, to be alone, to look out upon the gray, misty hills—this was all the happiness she coveted.”
— George Eliot, Middlemarch Palladian bridge reflected in the lake at Prior Park, Bath, mansion on the hill, cloudy sky taken in Pulteney Bridge, Bath, UK by @nicolettaraitz

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4 months ago

A storm is just a city briefly photographed by the sky. Last night, Amsterdam.

“When shall we three meet again / In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” — Shakespeare, Macbeth taken in Amsterdam Canal District by @nicolettaraitz

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4 months ago

A cloud kept indoors, under the painted dome of the Bourse de Commerce — Paris.

Clair-obscur is the art of pulling a figure out of shadow and here Fujiko Nakaya’s fog does the reverse, dissolving everything into soft white — and only the bare concrete and the painted skies keep their edges.

“These our actors… were all spirits, and / Are melted into air, into thin air.” — The Tempest Detail of the 19th-century painted cupola of the Bourse de Commerce, Paris — a frescoed scene of figures, sailing ships and classical columns curving above Tadao Ando's smooth grey concrete and a balustraded gallery of arched windows. taken in Bourse de Commerce - Pinault Collection by @nicolettaraitz

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4 months ago

Amsterdam gets under your skin in the softest ways. I kept stopping — at leaning doorways, at windows trimmed in candy colours, at bikes piled like lazy sculptures. All the little things linger, like the city is quietly telling you to slow down and really look. taken in Amsterdam, Netherlands by @nicolettaraitz

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2 years ago

Prague is a tome of stone and smoke — pages inked with alchemy, revolution, and the restless hush of midnight bells. It doesn't glow. It broods. A city of spires and shadow where the past lingers like smoke, and every alley feels like a footnote in a forgotten novel.

📷 @avvagraphy taken in Prague, Czech Republic by @nicolettaraitz

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2 years ago

Shelves to the ceiling and not one book in a hurry. Strahov — where the ceiling itself is a fresco you read standing up with Latin from Proverbs overhead, still insisting that knowledge outvalues silver and instruction outvalues gold. A room like a thought you can stand inside, long after the light shifts and the hall remembers what’s come before. taken in Strahov Monastery, Prague by @nicolettaraitz

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2 years ago

Behind the twin spires, a surprise of colour — Art Nouveau glowing inside a Neo-Gothic shell. Vyšehrad keeps its quietest beauty for the ones who climb to it. taken in Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul, Prague by @nicolettaraitz

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2 years ago

Where timeworn cabins meet still water — Nusfjord, red rorbuer held in the arms of the mountains, one of the oldest villages in Lofoten.

📷 @scuervo.traveler taken in Nusfjord, Nordland, Norway by @nicolettaraitz

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2 years ago