It’s because of the picture above that I’ve become low key obsessed with revolving doors. I took the above photo while doing some street photography in Denver on a very chilly winter’s day. The wind was whipping through the buildings in true Denver fashion. But as we briskly trailed down the sidewalk this sight caught my eye and I stood for a few moments, entranced by this simple door. The way a child would, upon first encountering one.
Revolving doors unlike typical swing doors posses certain qualities that make them less like a door and more like a portal. Aside from their aggressive stance, engineering and cultural processes, they manage to channel what walking through a door should really feel like unlike anything as pedestrian as say an archway or a gate. For example, when you’re operating a regular swing-hinge door you’re on one side, you open the handle, and walk through. Then, ta-da you’re on the other side. Simple. Boring. A means to end. A revolving door however, when operated properly, allows you to give a firmly planted flat-palmed push to enter the lobby in a uniquely whirling chunk of air that imposes yourself unto the elements in that place.
Everything about the process allows the user to not only go from outside to in, or inside to out, but to present themselves significantly in an impressive kerfuffle that demands a much higher level of esteem from nearby eyeballs then necessary for a entrance. That’s why they’re fantastic. The magic of these doors creates an red carpet-esque entrance worthy of the Pope, when you’re simply stepping out into a freezing, wet street on a dark winter day. Ask any child what they think of a revolving door, I bet it’s a similar evaluation.
What if these portals of magic aren’t used properly? I’m sure those with performance or social anxiety can’t always appreciate something as trivial as a door grandly thrusting people into lobbies. During a few times of childlike decision making I have gone into a revolving door vestibule and just followed the door around a few times, never once going in. Just maintaining in the circle of paned glass, both leading and chasing me all at once. That action feels different, it’s more frustrating than impressive. It’s the opposite feeling. If going through properly gives you the control of a mega-level entrance than staying in in the circle for a while feels like Hell incarnate. Now the door controls you.
It is at this realization that revolving doors finally made sense. They are this weirdly accurate representation of life itself. Deep. I know. But next time you feel like saying, “I am just so stressed out and busy, I feel like I’m stuck in a revolving door” Just know that the choice to feel better means taking one firmly planted hand and pushing through to the other side, arriving most decidedly in control.
Back to Top