Do you know it? You're walking in a town or village, somewhere in Europe or beyond, and you suddenly see a very old warped wooden door still just hanging in its hinges. Or a little door artfully held together with planks, nails, pieces of iron and to top it all off: a padlock.
Some old worn doors are ajar, as if to invite you in, to look and listen. Others have a hole, or just a gap, through which you can peek. Silently, those old doors stand holding their past together. Who lived there? What was life like for the residents?
The little doors I warm to are not tourist eye-catchers, but for those who want to see, each has its own character. Some are chic with ornate wood or metalwork or an unusual stone frame, others are full of scratches and layers of peeling paint. All these doors give access to another era, to what we humans make and leave behind. This collage is a journey through stories without words.
I found most of the old doors in all kinds of narrow alleys and backstreets, as well as in stately avenues of past glory. My project started in 2012 in Italy, in villages, but also in Florence. It was followed by French and Belgian villages, Paris and Liege, and New York. In the Netherlands, you rarely see them: there is one among them that I made in Eindhoven. Now, in 2025, this collage marks the end of my project.
Since about 1974, I have been involved almost daily in photography, drawing (charcoal, graphite, conté, chalk, ink), painting, watercolour and/or collage making. In all these branches of visual work, I have tried a lot, found my own way, but.. Read more…