Some Doors Aren't Meant to Be Opened

Street photography encourages curiosity.

In fact, it probably depends on it. You walk around noticing people, watching small interactions and quietly collecting moments that most of the world walks past without seeing. It's easy to believe that everything happening in front of you is fair game.

Then a photograph like this reminds you it isn't.

I made this image just as a woman disappeared through the entrance to a women's prayer hall. I don't know who she was. I don't know why she was there. More importantly, it wasn't my business to know. The photograph ends at the doorway, and I think that's exactly where it should end.

That line interests me.

As photographers, we're naturally curious. We want to know what happens next. We wonder what conversations are taking place behind closed doors, what people are thinking, where they're going and why. Sometimes those questions lead to good photographs. Other times they remind us that curiosity and entitlement aren't the same thing.

I've always believed street photography works best when it observes rather than intrudes. The camera can be incredibly powerful, which is exactly why it needs restraint. Just because we can photograph something doesn't always mean we should. Sometimes the strongest photograph is the one that accepts there are parts of another person's life that don't belong to us.

Oddly enough, I think that's why I like this image. Nothing dramatic happens. There's no grand gesture or decisive moment. Just somebody quietly stepping away from a public street into a private space.

The photograph doesn't answer any questions.

It simply acknowledges that some stories aren't ours to finish.