Thousands of old doors fill a cavernous warehouse beneath a high roof of steel beams and long skylights. They hang upright from rails in close rows, their faded paint making a muted patchwork of cream, blue, green, yellow and red. Some have simple recessed panels; others carry brass knockers, glazed sections or elaborate carved wood. The nearest doors reveal chipped edges and darkened grain, while the distant rows dissolve into pale dusty light.

A narrow steel catwalk cuts diagonally through the hall. A small girl in a red coat pauses at its railing, giving the enormous collection a human scale. Her bright coat stands apart from the subdued timber and metal without competing with the spectacle around her. Overhead daylight falls across the grating and picks out individual doors below. Hanging metal lamps, slender supports and repeated tracks add layers to the view. The result is a mysterious architectural scene built from familiar objects, with another shape or colour to discover in every row.