There are places in Amsterdam where time can be felt singing through the stones. Where scents, voices, and memories blend into a living archive. The Kolenkitbuurt and the Admiralenbuurt are such places, and the work of Mounir Raji captures exactly that: the pulse of a neighbourhood, the gentle rhythms of daily life, the faces of people who sustain the city without ever taking centre stage.

To celebrate Amsterdam 750, we chose to pause and reflect on the people who shape the city. Not its icons or façades, but the quiet architecture of closeness and care. Raji’s work Home is exemplary in this regard: he spends time with residents — at Mercatorplein, at MAQAM, in living rooms, backyards, schoolyards, and on the streets. His photographs are testaments to his attentiveness and presence — an increasingly rare quality in our hurried city.

Raji did not grow up in this neighbourhood, but he knows its energy from within. His family lives here and his memories move between different regions: between the Netherlands of his youth and the stories of Morocco that continue to echo within his family. It is precisely this position that gives rise to a double gaze: he is both participant and observer. From this dual perspective emerges an honest image — not a romanticisation, but an appreciation of how people, with resilience and creativity, relate to change.

The 750-year anniversary of Amsterdam calls for more than just a celebration of pride. It calls for a reassessment: who are we actually celebrating, and on what scale? At a time when urban growth often overwhelms people, working on a small scale is not a romantic gesture, but a moral choice. It is a way to do justice to the reality of residents who keep the city running every day, often without recognition or visibility.

Community-oriented work and co-creation are key principles here, though they are also concepts that can easily become empty buzzwords. Too often, the neighbourhood is a backdrop, not a collaborative agent. That is why we at Foam also ask ourselves: do we really dare to share—not just our spaces, but also our schedules, our resources, our authority? True co-creation does not mean inviting residents into our story, but taking their story as the starting point. It requires time, reciprocity, and the willingness to listen without exerting control or direction.

Guided by that conviction, I advocate for a museum practice rooted in the city rather than one that is elevated above it. A practice where collaboration with local makers, collectives, and artists is not an afterthought or simply ‘outreach’, but central to what we do as a museum. Where our role is not merely to represent, but to redistribute space, resources, and decision-making power.

Raji’s work reminds us that the city is not built from stone, but from relationships. His photographs capture people who, despite constant change, continually find their place and make it home. This is the true legacy of Amsterdam 750: a city that not only draws life from its past, but shapes its future through equality.

As a museum, we bear a responsibility to help envision that future—not by speaking for the city, but by listening, connecting, and co-creating with its inhabitants. Only then does Amsterdam truly come alive through its people.