Location: Scottsdale, AZ
For every person who "gets" my photography, there must be at least a hundred people, if not a thousand, who don't. But that's hardly surprising, because even I'm not 100 percent certain of what it is that my photography is about.
I wish that I could say more about my photos, but I frequently get tongue-tied, if you will, whenever it comes to discussing art ... yours, mine, or anyone's.
You would think that as a former reviewer of high-end audio equipment, I would be loquacious and able to wax poetically at length on pretty much any subject -- and when I was younger, I not only could, but did! -- but no such luck these days, I'm afraid.
For better and worse, it's my nature to react to art instinctively and intuitively ... and also purely internally, emotionally, not externally and verbally. This is the main reason why I finally gave up on my efforts to monetize my photographs, because I really have nothing to add about my photos beyond what is contained within the four corners of the prints. To paraphrase Popeye, "They are what they are and that's all what they are."
I will happily discuss the technical details at length, as well as the locations of the scenes that I photograph, the shooting conditions, etc. But when it comes to giving my photos meaning or explaining their context, I'm utterly hopeless. Even coming up with names for them is often a challenge for me, which is why I frequently use the street address numbers of the scenes instead.
And this one is no different. It's almost quintessentially one of mine, if you will, and I recognize that, but I also can't begin to describe why I personally find it so interesting nor why I ultimately chose to spend the time and exert the effort I did to photograph it. It simply caught my eye and that was all the justification I needed. <shrugs>
P.S.: It's good that I took this photo when I did, because there's now a fence around the parking lot and it blocks this view of the door. In short, this photo can no longer be taken. 8^(