One of the most natural things for me in photography is noticing and capturing the little details that make up a larger image or area. Those are the things that I remember, not the whole thing, that overwhelms me, but the feel of my hand on the handrail and the texture of the peeling paint, the placement of a flower in the desert determinedly growing in a tiny crack in the sandstone. The patterns of nature and man, often random, sometimes planned, these are the building blocks of my memory. While I am not a devotee of the razor thin depth of field, isolate only one thing in a composition school of thought, it does match with the way I see the world at times. Removing distractions to reveal the detail that is prominent in my brain as I saw the scene.
While leaving work recently I saw a pile of old doors that had been removed as part of the continual renovations that are necessary for the survival of a large medical center. I had walked past them multiple times, but this time something struck me, a door closer crossing the top of another door at a funky angle, almost like the leg of some mechanical insect broken off and thrown off to the side. I HAD to stop and look.
In looking more closely I saw the details of the closer mechanism, a slight patina of rust just starting to form, dust on the top from unknown years of use, what types of things went on in the room this device guarded? What stories could it tell could it only speak? Lives lost or won, secrets shared, the mundanities of daily life, enigmatic, it can only remain mute leaving me to wonder.
A simple hinge, one of the least technologically advanced devices in the facility, yet important and even essential. How many times was it used? How many years did it quietly sit simply holding up a door and allowing for a simply swing to occur. Stories. If only these objects could talk!!!
Call me silly if you must, but these flights of fancy keep me engaged with the world, curious, present, and with wondering awe.
