Think about doors - scarcely more noticeable than the air we breathe. At best, we perceive doors as no more than just a slight hindrance to the rhythm of daily lives as we pass through them, pausing ever so slightly to open or close one.
But if you think a little more about it, you begin to realize that a door represents a good deal more than just a barrier between two spaces. To start with, passing through a doorway is a process of moving from one place to another to gain access to some place or some thing on the other side. Usually serving a function other than the one we previously were engaged in. Passing through a door puts us in a state of transition from what was, to what is yet to come. Most often then, when we walk through a door, it signifies a point of transition from one role or task to another - a demarcation between completing one goal and starting a new one.
Additionally, a door, specifically a front door, is frequently also the first point of contact we have with the place and people behind it. As such, not only is it a barrier granting or denying entry it also a statement about the place and the people behind the door. Look for example at the doors to a church with their large ornate openings meant to awe and inspire people passing through them. They make a clear statement and sets the expectations of things to come. On a smaller scale, front doors to most homes are also usually more decorative than all other doors in the house - they too are meant to say something about the house and the people behind the door.
In this digital photographic typology of doors from Portugal and Spain, I am exploring doors from older homes as a way to think about the people who live behind them and the place they occupy. And, although many of these doors are still in use today, passing through them is not possible for either the artist or the audience - what happens behind these closed doors will forever remain secret, and we are left to imagine what and who is behind them.