Maybe it’s only my photographer’s eye, but to me there is something almost magical about windows. Even when they’re spit clean—so clean that you’d think they’re not even there—they provide a barrier between the viewer and what’s on the other side, whether it be rain, snow, wind, dust, blowing leaves, bugs, sound (at least to some extent), or smells. Or they can be dripping with condensation, coated with ice crystals, smoky with grime, or wavy with age—all of which give a different view of what is seen through them. Maybe they’re scratched or broken or even missing entirely, looking blindly back at you and speaking of what was once there but is now gone.
Then there are the times they become mirrors, blinding us with reflections of the sun or covering skyscrapers with a sparkling mosaic of sky and trees and other buildings. During the day they brighten our worlds by bringing light inside, and by night the warmth of their light in darkness gives hints of the myriad lives inside the buildings around us.
This gallery is on display at the West Springfield Public Library through March 31, 2013.