Doors are portals into other lives; the lives that could have been, could still be. My imagination always runs wild when I see a gorgeous new door. How long have the residents lived in their home? What are their lives like? Who are their great, lost loves? Why did they choose this home over all the other homes or cities in which they could have lived? What joys and sorrows have occurred in their home over the years?
Nowhere have I found doors more beautiful than in Morocco. In the year I lived in Morocco I traveled extensively throughout the country. While exploring the ancient medinas (Arabic for cities) of Chefchaouen, Fes, Marrakech, Rabat, and Essaouira every few steps a new door would catch my eye. Some were in blatant need of repair. Others had just received a fresh coat of blue paint to warn away the evil eye. But all of them were unique and beautiful.
As a child I dreamed of becoming a National Geographic journalist and photographer. While I’ve always been drawn to travel the world and write about my travels, I didn’t pursue photography as a medium beyond an early obsession with the ruins of Pompeii in 2005 on my first trip to Europe. But, when I arrived in Morocco in the fall of 2016, I took a photo of every single door I saw. Each new door stopped me in my tracks. Each one was a unique work of art, beautiful and flawed and yet perfect all at the same time. They were often nestled in tall, unassuming walls, which, once opened, would reveal the beauty of the riad (the traditional Moroccan home built around a courtyard) inside.
I suppose this is one of the reasons why I travel: to experience moments of pure magic, moments that stop me full in my tracks and that make my imagination take flight. Moments inspired by the simple but breathtaking beauty of a front door.