Doorways: My Not-So-Secret Photographic Passion

How a casual obsession became my newest photography project

Go on. Admit it. We all have those quirky photographic obsessions, don't we? The subjects that repeatedly catch our eye, almost without conscious thought. For some, it's windows or staircases; for others, perhaps it's shadows or reflections. I have many and one of mine is doors.

Lake District, UK

Yes, doors. All kinds of doors. Old wooden ones with peeling paint and ornate knockers. Modern steel affairs with minimalist handles. Grand entrances to historical buildings. Humble cottage doorways framed by climbing plants. Doors that are falling apart, hinges barely clinging on, and doors so pristine they look as though they've never been touched.

For years, I've been somewhat self-conscious about what I thought was a peculiar fascination. After all, doors are such mundane, everyday objects that most people barely give them a second glance. Surely a "serious" photographer should be focused on more traditionally worthy subjects?

A conversation with photographer

Neale James

earlier this week changed my perspective entirely. Having spent a day in his company, my secret was out and he and the others with us had clocked my obsession and it had become a bit of a running joke. As we discussed photographic projects, Neale enquired if doors were one of them, to which I sheepishly declined, downplaying them as a subject matter in the process. Instead of the polite brush-off I half-expected, Neale immediately responded, "No, no, no, doors are great!" As he enthused about them as a project, he went on to introduce me to the work of other photographers with a similar passion, such as Helen Jones-Florio, whose stunning door photography projects have gained international recognition.

This one thirty-second exchange, finding out that I am not alone in my fascination was liberating. And just like that, I felt permission to fully embrace what had previously felt like a trivial pursuit or my dirty little photographic secret.

Cambridge, UK

Why Doors?

When I stop to think about it, my attraction to doors makes perfect sense. They are, quite literally, portals to unknown worlds beyond. Each door represents possibility, mystery, and the human stories that unfold behind them.

As a photographer who enjoys both urban and natural environments, doors offer something unique—they're the meeting point between architecture and human experience. They're where the built environment interfaces directly with our lives.

Every door has a tale to tell. The worn threshold speaks of countless footsteps crossing over years or centuries. The choice of colour reveals something about the occupants' personality—this is one of the few subjects where I will opt for colour over black and white as a result. The security measures—or lack thereof—hint at the nature of the neighbourhood or the era in which the door was installed.

Besalú, Spain

In the Lake District, I've photographed sturdy farmhouse doors built to withstand the harshest winter weather. In London's East End, brightly painted doors bring character to otherwise uniform terraced houses. In Ely, where I'm based, medieval doors still guard ancient buildings, their wood warped and weathered by hundreds of years of Fenland humidity.

Each one is simultaneously an entrance and a barrier, welcoming and protecting, an architectural feature and a deeply personal choice.

The Technical Challenges

From a photographic standpoint, doors present interesting technical challenges too. They're often recessed, creating natural framing and shadow play. Their vertical lines demand careful attention to perspective, especially when shooting with wide-angle lenses. And their details—knockers, letterboxes, hinges, locks—provide opportunities for close-up studies.

I've found that doors often look their best in side lighting, which brings out the texture and dimension of the woodwork or metalwork. Early morning or late afternoon light can transform an ordinary doorway into something magical, casting long shadows or creating a warm glow that hints at the life within.

London East End

The Human Element

What strikes me most about photographing doors is the unavoidable human connection. Unlike many landscape subjects, doors are inherently human creations, designed for human use. They speak to our basic needs for shelter, security, and privacy, while simultaneously expressing our desire for beauty and self-expression.

Sometimes I capture doors exactly as I find them. Other times, I'm lucky enough to include people in the frame. These moments add another layer of storytelling to the image.

Even without people physically present, the human element remains. A pair of shoes left outside, a cat sunning itself on the doorstep, fresh flowers in a pot by the entrance—all tell us something about the lives lived behind the door.

Ely, Cambridgeshire

The Allure of the Ajar

There's something particularly magnetic about a door that's not fully closed. A door ajar creates an immediate sense of narrative tension—it's an invitation and a mystery wrapped into one architectural element.

When I encounter a door standing slightly open, my photographer's instinct kicks into overdrive. What lies beyond? Who left it open? Was it deliberate or accidental? The possibilities unfurl like chapters in an unwritten story.

Of course, there's a delicate ethical balance here. Where it's appropriate and respectful to do so—in public buildings, historical sites, or with permission—I'll occasionally capture what lies on the other side. A sliver of interior light spilling onto an exterior step. The glimpse of a corridor stretching away into darkness. The edge of a sunlit courtyard visible through a crack.

These threshold images often become my favourites in the collection, existing in the liminal space between public and private, between the known exterior world and the mysterious interior one. They're visual cliff-hangers that allow viewers to complete the story in their own minds.

What's remarkable is how an open door completely transforms the photographic composition. While closed doors are all about surface, texture, and the barrier itself, open doors introduce depth and the interplay between different lighting conditions. They create natural frames within frames, drawing the eye inward and inviting the viewer to mentally step across the threshold.

Ely, Cambridgeshire

The Alleyway Connection

If you've been following my Substack, you might remember my piece on "Alleyways: The Hidden Gems of Photography." There's a natural connection between these two interests of mine. Alleyways, those narrow passages tucked away from main streets, are absolute goldmines for door photography.

These less-travelled paths often feature doors that have retained their original character, untouched by the homogenising effect of high street renovations. In alleyways, you'll find service entrances with utilitarian charm, residence doors with quirky personalised touches, and forgotten doorways that haven't been opened in years.

Ely. Cambridgeshire

What makes alleyway doors particularly special is their context. Unlike doors on main thoroughfares, which are designed to impress or blend in, alleyway doors often reveal the unvarnished truth of a building. They show the functional, sometimes messy reality behind the polished façade. They can also be beautiful oases of charm and calm, hidden from the hustle and bustle of the street beyond.

The lighting in alleyways creates dramatic conditions too—harsh contrasts, unusual angles of sunlight, and shadows that transform ordinary doors into cinematic scenes. Just as I wrote about the unique light play in alleyways, the same principles make the doors within them particularly photogenic.

So if you share my fascination with doors and haven't yet ventured down the path of alleyway photography, I highly recommend combining these pursuits. Armed with a camera and a sense of adventure, you'll discover doorways that tell entirely different stories than their main street counterparts.

London East End

Starting the Project

Now that I've decided to embrace this fascination fully, I'm approaching it with more intentionality. What began as random door photographs scattered through my collection is evolving into a more cohesive project.

I'm starting to categorise the doors I photograph—by age, by region, by material, by colour. I'm paying more attention to the contextual elements that make each door unique. And I'm thinking about how to present these images as a collection that tells a broader story about architecture, design, and human habitation.

Perhaps most importantly, I'm no longer feeling self-conscious about stopping in the middle of a street or path to photograph what might seem, to passersby, like an unremarkable door. I know now that I'm documenting something significant—the boundaries between public and private spaces, the thresholds we all cross as we move through our lives.

London East End

Your Turn

I suspect I'm not alone in having a seemingly mundane photographic obsession. What everyday objects or scenes repeatedly catch your eye? What subjects do you find yourself drawn to photograph again and again, perhaps without fully understanding why?

I'd love to hear about your own quirky photographic fascinations. And if you happen to have a particularly interesting door in your neighbourhood, do let me know—I might just pay it a visit to add to my collection.

Having written this I discovered that

Aminus3 Photography

photography prompt this week is also “doors”. Judging by all the wonderful images I have seen in my Substack feed over the last couple of days, it would appear that I am not alone in my love of doors, which is wonderful to see. I thought it was still worth sharing this story.

All images in this post were captured with a mix of equipment, from my trusty iPhone to my full-frame camera, proving once again that the best camera is the one you have with you when an intriguing door presents itself.

A few other recent door photographs

Final thought

It would appear many of you are reading this in your email client of choice, which is wonderful and I am so grateful for all of you that are following my ramblings and photography. For those that would like to see more of my photos and thoughts, why not try using the Substack app on your phone. There is a lively photography community growing here and I post more images and short thoughts between my two main posts, which also go out by email each week. Hopefully see some of you there.