Saturday, September 8, 2018


I've had a fascination for doors and windows for several years. It started in the '80s when I lived in Texas and would take spontaneous photo trips in out-of-the-way places, often taking the small blue roads on the map. I found myself attracted to old abandoned and dilapidated farm houses and barns. Their doors and windows called out my name.

Since those days, I find a lot of doors and windows interesting to photograph. What I try to translate through my images are their aging bodies, their history, designs, unique features, or even feelings I get from them when I am in their presence. If they could talk, what stories would they tell? What is their message for us?

I don't see them as doors or windows. I see them as human made objects that speak to us.

From a technical perspective, photographing doors and windows is pretty straight forward--get your composition that works best for you, set the depth of field you want, and get the best in-camera exposure you can possibly get. The aesthetics part of it is finding the art and emotion in something as simple as a door or window. Enjoy.

I don't see them as doors or windows. I see them as human made objects that speak to us. What do you hear them saying? I have included the thoughts or messages I feel they conveyed to me.

What I hear is, "Please. Come in. All are welcomed." What to you hear or feel?

The message here for me is just the opposite from the previous image. I get two messages here. "Bricks are not enough to keep you out." "Just another brick in the wall."

This was an old abandoned hotel room. There were still old, dirty rusty box springs inside.
Perhaps hundreds of couples or families stayed in this room.  I wonder what their stories were. 

What fascinated me about this window were the plants growing from the inside. What feelings or thoughts do you get? 

You can hardly see the door in this image. Over the years, it has been taken over by nature. It's as if humans eventually stop existing, but not nature. What are you sensing? 

I thought I would have some fun with this window and include myself in the reflection. Like the window, part of me is broken and shattered. You can translate that in different ways. What's your translation?

This image has both doors and windows. It begs so many questions. Who lived or worked here? Where did those red doors lead to? I wonder if that emergency escape was ever used? 
What resonates with you?   

This last example depicts doors that open into an old Spanish mission in San Antonio, Texas. it was established in 1731. They still hold services. No telling how many people, young and old, have knelt inside and prayed for help, healing, better days, pardon, or consoling. What do you see or hear behind those closed doors? 

I hope you have enjoyed a sliver of my collection, thoughts and feelings behind these doors and windows. I find a lot of them in those small towns that never make the news, or in the alleys in those small towns. 

I had dinner in one of those small towns in Texas. The small sign behind the cash register read, "Not much happens in a small town. But the rumors sure make up for it."

So, get your map out or tap into your mobile device GPS, grab your gear and go find some interesting stories and messages. They're waiting for you.