Recall Door

Essentially, with so many people in the province leaving – people from all walks of life - as a result of poor economic conditions, even poorer political judgement, jobs at any cost to the landscape, and greener pastures abroad, I used this door as an opportunity to explore and remind myself what it was that brought me here in the first place. If ever there was a time to ask “What about Nova Scotia?” this is it.

Door in studio

Recall Door, oil/wood with text on reverse.

Reverse side with text

Recall:
He recalled her saying he did not seem to have a lot of childhood memories. Perhaps this was true or perhaps it wasn't; yet like a broken movie reel, the film had been spliced together but with a few pieces missing. What he did remember was in stark contrast to his ocean home now, like the pattern of cookie cutter capitalism and its perfect suburban grid. Intercom systems. Elevators with floor buttons scorched by cigarettes. The beige walls of an apartment without a cross breeze. Loud voices and arguments from the next flat. Parquet floors and cheap carpeting. Odors emanating from the hallway garbage chute. Heavy doors leading to an underground parking lot.

Sliding balcony doors.
Elevator doors.
Cheap paneled doors.
One way doors that said "this is not a door."
 Stair well doors.
Lobby doors with security guards.
Doors dented by an angry foot.
Glass doors.
Broken glass doors.
Doors with numbers, scratches, and graffiti.

The pungent smell of chlorine from an apartment pool. Tired parents with groceries in paper bags. Tired parents returning from a rush hour traffic battle. Walls without art.
Doors without art.

Later he recalled her eyes, a strange green and and brown combination. Her hair long and black. An artist herself. A couple of romantics they were. He remembered her saying ... "what about Nova Scotia?"

Steven Rhude, Wolfville, NS.