How many doors do you go through on a daily basis, and when you do how many do you give any thought to? The answer for most of us is probably none: a door is a door, an entrance and exit. In it are handles to open it, and locks to secure it. It might have a letterbox to allow deliveries, or a bell to alert you to visitors (and these days a camera to warn you who they are). They have a clear function: they are a threshold, a barrier between you and whatever is beyond. But they can become something else, a question mark instead, a mystery that hold the secrets the world around them have forgotten. These are the doors I photograph: hidden doors, secret doors, blocked doors, abandoned ones, a place where once was egress but now the way is sealed and entry denied.

While I can say when I started taking pictures of these doors, around 7 years ago, I will struggle to articulate exactly why I did. I was always interested in abandoned places and urban exploration but lack both the courage and athletic ability to venture in myself. I love the thought of hidden places, forgotten and left to decay holding their secrets amidst their quiet ruination. The doors were the outward signifiers of this change, dotting both the urban and rural landscape and the more I looked the more I saw.

And so I began taking pictures of them. Early efforts were not good: there is an art to taking decent pictures of doors. Over the years I have honed the craft but never perfected it, and in doing so found that they can take many forms. Some are obvious, some obscured by nature and others are barely visible invisible but you start to look you develop a knack and start to see them everywhere.