The Weatherworn Door by Chipka
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No AI - This artwork was created entirely by hand or with traditional digital tools.
Description
It was cold on the day that we saw peeling paint.
It was a Friday, or maybe a Saturday...a day that Pavel and I spent, wandering the city and eating in tiny cafes with menus only in Czech.
Far from the tourist-core of the city, we walked on a craggle of cobblestones and gray, cracked asphalt. We crunched through flakes of fallen stucco in shades of yellow, pink, green, and faded (though once eye-searing) blue. Here, history asserted itself in the crumble, peel, and flake of decay. Wood—exposed to the elements—rotted in small, spongy masses, occasionally helped along by wine, long passed through dodgy stomachs and overfull bladders.
When I saw peeling paint, I saw history.
Pavel, a quiet comfort at my side, saw something else. Ghosts.
There was no real way to tell what ghosts he saw, or what they might have whispered to him. He was content to keep his silence on this topic. I was content to simply let it be. We spoke, most assuredly, of everything else, but as I took a picture of a door, peeling and rotting, its lock long frozen with rust, I knew that there were stories behind that sealed portal. Pavel, a native of the Czech Republic and a long-time resident of Prague, knew many stories.
None about this particular door or this particular building.
But stories, nonetheless. I've heard him speak of “Communist Time,” and of gray, lifeless days.
And now, when I see peeling paint, and the rot of wood long eaten by wetness and wind, I wonder what stories Pavel knows and what histories he has lived.
On the day that I saw the garish orange of older paint, peeking through the ruin of layers above it, I also heard Pavel declare how strange it was to live in a country younger than himself.
There have always been Czechs; there has always been Czech history.
At times, it was a silent thing, ignored. At times, it was a thing swallowed by foreign powers. On the day that I saw Door Number 25, on a street I cannot name, it was a thing, embedded in paint, applied by hands I would never know.
And as I stood beside my friend, I wondered at this history, imagining that he stood beside me, wondering not at history, but at ghosts.
I see peeling paint now, and it makes me think of Pavel. It makes me think of Kacha and Stepan, of Honza, Jarda, and Marcela. It makes me think of Victor as well, though Victor's history bears a different pattern of aggressions and endurances. When I think of my friends, I think of the things that paint may say.
What stories are contained in colors smeared on doors and walls?
If it's quiet enough, can we hear these stories when the colors peel?
***
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting.
Comments (29)
My first thought when I saw this was "I wonder what goes on behind those doors?"~~you took it so much further, with your idea of peeling paint, time and history~~a truly stunning way to look at this old door!! I love this image!!
I've always loved weatherbeaten old doors, especially when they're not the usual rectangular type. This image is wonderful; the story hits home, being of Czech extraction myself. You have a way with words and images that creeps into the corners of my brain and makes me think, and I love that!
Love this door but even more, I love the stones in the walk up. Fabulous shot.
you succeeded with your story to tell a lot of what i feel when i see decay. this image is one of the best of it's kind.
Fantastic capture, the texture and decay speak history. I like how you included the cobbled stones.
Fantastic. Feels like I could step right into this scene.
'Here, history asserted itself in the crumble, peel, and flake of decay.' Superb writing and a unique view of this old door. You have peeled the layers in such a creative way. CC
incredible to think of how many paints of warnish, paints and time this one has survived and still looks great. A classical example of classics. Your capture, Chi, makes a great tribute to this piece of art
Makes you want to grab your scrapers! Great capture!
You are so talented! Superb!
A wonderful photograph, but your writing, wow! Somehow you put into words exactly the things that go through my mind when I run across a piece of old architecture like this - not the specifics, of course, but the sense of history, the hidden/lost stories, and feeling of ghosts.
They say every picture paints a a story? Well, someone did. Even without your splendid narrative, I would have seen the years peeled back as much as the layers of paint on this once great but even now, not entirely forgotten, door. An excellent thought provoker, Chip and an even better image! (and thanks for yoyr thoughtful comments on my recent posts.I appreciate how you take the time to say something meaningful.
Fabulous photography to go with the story that peels back to reveal itself like the layers of paint..
Godz Chip, love what you wrote here....makes me feel like I'm right there, and now I, too, will look at peeling paint in a different light....excellent !!! ~ Hugs ~
This door can probably tell many tales thru it's existence. You always seem to capture the most fantastic imagery in your photos. Ones that have a story behind them...or ones that could spawn an entire book.
Excellent prose and capture, love the olde worlde look to this!
Chip, I continue to travel through your eyes and writing. So enjoyable. What a door. Makes one wonder what it would tell if it could. Wonderful photograph.
At this door, I feel a story, excellent image!!
beautiful words, and photo.
RICHESSE PATRIMONIALE A L'ABANDON PRICELESS SHOT !
Oh what a precious piece of soul touching writing. Brilliantly done my friend. And the image is perfect - the colors, textures, compo - totally in harmony to tell the tale! Wow!!! xx
I like this shot. There is something about this door that is very powerful... Very nice capture:)
Beautiful capture chip. A splendid work and writing. Hugs. Di. xx
Beautiful capture. Excellent photography my friend!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ROBY ;o)
Beautiful door and great shot !
exquisite detail, powerful image
Fantastic story! I guess that a picture really can tell a thousand words. So many things to think about with such a beautiful image. Thank you for sharing! Oh and welcome back. =-)
while i so much want to catch up with your recent work (and the latest novel too!), I wanted to catch some of your earlier work. As others have noted, your photo truly captures the dark poetry of decay. And your words have peered under every crack & discoloration to reflect on all the things that lurk there. Funny...because, with limited knowledge of your work, it seems like your most recent work is fleshing out the ghosts and untold stories of pieces like this; and I say that fully aware that you may have done that many times before this image. In any case, your prose is very evocative, making each peel a 'calling'; and, as Mina says, we will stop & look at peeling paint differently from now on. And btw, you caught the strange life of the door beautifully—the dark shadows, the stark contrast between left & right door, and the wonderful decayed wall and stones around it. And your writing seems to be about the voices that call out from inside them all...I can see that your gallery is a set of volumes which, like the Talmud, has reflection upon reflection upon reflection, and I'm glad there's so much more waiting for me. Highly evocative work, visually & literarily. A wonderful journey...
great shot!