When a door closes...

I spent the morning yesterday photographing doors and entryways. I find myself feeling calmer after an hour of stomping around taking pictures of things. I did the same thing a couple weeks back when things started to feel overwhelming and I checked out a beautiful cemetery not far from where I live.

One of the pictures was of an old crypt that had a tarnished copper door and was in major disrepair. It sits in the wall of the hill you have to drive up to get to the main cemetery. Hundreds of people see it-and probably ignore it-every day. I was intrigued so I stopped to take a shot, parking the car a little off the road. It was a Friday and pretty early so I figured there'd be little traffic.

After the two minutes of shooting, I looked up to see two guys waiting for me to move my car. They hadn't said a word or made a noise and they could have easily made it around my little Jag. But there they sat, watching me with intrigue. "Why would you take a picture of that old mess?" asked the youngest of the two, probably not even 20 years old. He had obviously been off doing heavy labor and was dirty with mud.

Someone's mom or dad or little brother is in there. And it's obviously been neglected because the family isn't around anymore. I smiled, showed him the shot of the close up of the door and told him that would be a key piece in a book about doors that I'm writing. It's one of the most beautiful doors you could ever see. The moss growing on the old Rocky Butte Quarry stones, the tarnished copper that is the color of sea foam, the yellow mold growing on the grout... and the leaves scattered at the base make for a most beautiful and interesting structure. If you didn't know it was a crypt door, you'd think it was the entry to a secret garden.

He seemed very unimpressed. "Why would you want to take a picture of doors?"





My answer, of course, "Why wouldn't I?"