The most beautiful gate in the ramparts of Marrakesh, this 900 year-old arch once led to the Royal Palace. Its carved sandstone still shows tinges of red, melding with grayish blue. The sculpted facade consists of alternating layers of stone and brick. To make this gate speak more effectively, I abstract the image by cropping it exactly in half. I kept the half with the person about to walk through the gate to offer a sense of how huge this gate really is. The elaborate detail on its façade tells still another story, and makes another image unto itself. You can see it by clicking on the thumbnail below.

A Marrakesh merchant is using this door as an easel to display the art prints he is selling. I moved in on the print, cutting it nearly in half, stressing the triangular flap that is bent backwards over its corner. I stressed the flap because its shape echoes the double triangular molding on the door. Incredibly, someone has also embellished the door molding with a flowing feathery white fringe, coincidentally echoing the feathery white skirts worn by the elongated dancers on the print. The entire image seems to be in motion. There is a wonderful lesson in this for us – doors can tell stories, accidentally or on purpose. Discover them, and interpret them.

Rabat's Oudaia Kasbah is its old city, a splendid warren of 17th and 18th century houses lining the twisting, narrow streets. We saw the interior of this lavishly decorated riad (traditional residence) because our tour guide knew its caretaker. We found him talking on his cell phone amidst the splendor of three hundred year old tiles. While he was talking, I built this incongruous portrait of him. The elegant doors in the center of the frame are open, revealing the sitting room within. An inlaid door above it is mysteriously closed. Where could it lead? Just the quality of the wood and the intricate marquetry, a Moroccan specialty, speaks volumes about the history, value and beauty of this place.

Some of Morocco’s finest woodworkers ply their craft behind these massive doors. Why iron doors embedded rock? Because their workspaces were formerly solid concrete rooms used to store munitions beneath Essaouira’s ancient ramparts. I photographed a whole row of these former munitions storehouses from a ramp leading down from the top of the ramparts. I waited until two of the occupants made themselves visible within those iron doors in order to add a human presence to the scene.

One door is elegantly tiled. The other is wide open -- leading to a public toilet. The man at left is the attendant, collecting about twelve cents from each and every visitor. The story here is simple one. The two doors are richly diverse. The one at left implies wealth and power. The one at right speaks to a common need. We have no access to the first door. But if we give the fellow on the left twelve cents, we are all free to follow in the footsteps of the fellow in the gray jellaba.