The Light at the End of the Tunnel

I love images of doorways, gates, in fact, entrances of any kind and they reoccur often in my picture making. They obviously appeal to others as it is through a picture of mine of a door in Wells that I made contact with Blues Mama - doors and door furniture (I think it was a hinge that took her fancy) must exert a primeval fascination.

I took this photograph today in a small village called Rous Lench. For me it's a very compelling subject. A dark, somewhat forbidding passage leads through a grove of yew trees, and beyond, the prospect of sunlit open pasture - once you have negotiated the gate; triumph through adversity, maybe. In music this image might be represented by a modulation from a minor to a major key, an aural transition to the sunny uplands of C or E major, perhaps. I'm not sure where the gate fits into that simile though.

I imagine that there is some deep Freudian significance in my interest in doorway/tunnel images but it's best left unexplored.

Blogs (an appalling word) are doorways into peoples lives; they can be closed, ajar or open, depending how much of your soul you're prepared to reveal.