We sometimes work forward, divining a theme and making pictures to support that story or subject. Exploring and creating new work.
Other times we work backward, looking at the work we’ve already made and searching for patterns. Seeking understanding in what we have created without conscious effort or control.
It turns out the simple pairing of images can be the impetus for a deeply satisfying project.
The few diptychs I created with doors as the anchoring image became the foundation for a complete project. This won’t be an ongoing project; it is unlikely I will add new pictures to the series. I’m pretty sure if I set out to take pictures of doors, they would be incredibly boring. (Remember those posters that were popular, Doors of Fredericksburg? Substitute your own city of origin.)
I combed my archives for images of doors. This was easier than you might expect. I went back as far as 2014 and the pictures of doors readily stood out. There were enough to make the project interesting, but no so many as to be cumbersome. There was plenty of variety in terms of shape, color, texture, perspective and so on. Pairing the doors with complimentary images was a highly intuitive and engaging effort. Every time I tried to step away, the project called to me. I woke up with ideas for poetry and pairings.
Making this series was not a long and slow process, not a body of work built over years. I see the value of this method, allowing time for the work to evolve and simmer, layers upon layers. This project came together in just 5 days, fast and furious. No less thoughtful than long-term work but perhaps more driven and demanding. There was nothing to do but work to the finish.
I’m still tweaking the order of the pairings and playing around with a simple artist statement. Honestly, I don’t get the whole artist statement thing. I’ve read hundreds of them, and I can’t decide if I love them or if they just get in the way of the work. Often, they are poorly written and full of meaningless crap. Other times, they are highly academic and analytical, offering intellectual reasons to support the meaning of the photographs. But I’m not sure any of this really works because the best photographs speak in feelings from the heart, not words from the head. For my own part, I pulled in a beautiful poem from Mary Oliver, Landscape, that speaks to feeling fully alive by keeping the doors of one’s heart open. And while this is surely true, and the metaphor fits, it’s also an after-thought. Because really, I don’t know exactly why I made these pictures, only that these are the things I’ve noticed, over and over again, the past 8 years. And that’s says something.
Anyway, I’m sharing this collection, the doors of my heart, here. I’ll print this project as a book, too.
