“There are things known, and things unknown, and in between are the Doors”

a few weeks ago, deep in a scrolling spiral on instagram, i stumbled across an account by parisian raquel puig. her handle, @doorwaysofparis, pretty much sums up the account’s contents. from doorways of paris my spiral twisted deeper still, and I discovered that raquel’s fascination was not singular but a veritable instagram trend. hundreds of these accounts abound, all with large followings (Doorways of Paris has over 11K followers, and others are similar in popularity). some are panoramic in their survey of the subject, collecting images of doorways across the world. others are geographically centred, gathering images of doors in sydney, lisboa, italy, and buenos aires to name just a few. others are even more specific in their focus. the account @bloomingdoors, for example, exclusively collates images of doorways surrounded by blooms and greenery. all of them suggest that this architectural trend has somewhat of a hold on instagram users and is fast becoming a trend.

it’s a minute fascination that captures the universal allure of the unknown. doorways, of course, are rife with symbolism. a closed door may represent the private or the unknown, whilst an open door can represent new possibilities and opportunities. think of alice in wonderland and the room of different sized doors, each concealing an unknown world.

doors are also thresholds - points of liminality between one world and another. public vs. private, outisde vs. inside, known vs. known, doors are a transition point between these opposites. when we travel, we’re essentially crossing these thresholds, passing from the familiar to the unknown. the fact that these doors are mainly attached to private residences means that the threshold they represent cannot be crossed. as humans, we’re innately curious, even more so when we’re barred from feeding this curiosity further. doors then are the only clue we have into the personality of their owners. colourful, ornate, new, old… even a plain or bare door can say something about those who live beyond it.

of course, they’re also pretty. given the nature of the instagram algorithm and our obsession with aesthetics, they have to be. in older cities like paris, doorways are often little slices of history, representing the architectural styles of days gone by. in others, like colombia, doorways are often colourful and artistically rendered - a microcosmic view into a city’s broader culture. on an instagram feed, they’re pieces of art in and of themselves.

in places like kathmandu, doors are much more than just transitional spaces. “doors of kathmandu” is a project by photographer nipun prabhakar that documents these passageways, positing them as important social places for the city’s residents. as he explains in arch daily, “the most versatile piece in a building, [the door] has been a mode of expression [for] ages. The door in apartments and modern societies is just a mode of a transition from outside to inside. In traditional cities and neighborhoods, like that of Kathmandu, it’s much more than that. It’s the place where people spend most of their time. Sitting at the Chaukhat, socializing and chatting. The door is not just a tangible unit, it’s the respect you give to your building.”

during the pandemic here in sydney, i noticed that doors were unusually popping up as social spaces. neighbours caught up with neighbours on one another’s doorsteps, birthday cake was eaten on front porches, and shopkeepers served customers from their front door.

so what does my front door look like? well, it’s green, and last year’s christmas wreath is still hanging from its doorknocker. make of that what you will.