Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
On the Atlanta Beltline’s Eastside Trail, there’s a hot-pink door encircled by a rainbow arch. You’d be forgiven for missing it: It’s only seven inches tall, a pop of pride on an overpass bursting with ever-changing public art. But the door is one of Atlanta’s most enduring, photographable pieces. It’s been damaged over the years—whether by the accidents of city life or the vandalism of bigots—and not only repaired every time but made better, always with its signature rainbow arch.
This tiny door is one of 36 across the city, all installed in public spaces, designed for spontaneous discovery by strolling passersby. Collectively, Tiny Doors ATL is the decade-long project of artist Karen Anderson Singer. Singer, a sculptor, first moved to Atlanta in 2013, hoping to join the robust public art scene with her own interactive spin. “I wanted to play with scale because it really invites the imagination,” Singer says.
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
She eventually landed on the idea of tiny doors, and installed her first one in 2014, on the side of the Krog Street Tunnel: painted black and surrounded by concrete to match the tunnel’s aesthetic. She’d expected people to treat the doll-sized door as another piece of ephemera in the art-filled tunnel, but instead, visitors started adding objects: a tiny newspaper, a cat figurine. “I thought at best it would get painted over, but this was way cooler,” Singer says. “Tiny Doors has never been something I imposed on the city; Atlanta decided it would be a good fit.”
Ten years later, Singer’s Tiny Doors dot Atlanta. You’ll find one at the Georgia Aquarium and one in the clutches of Giganotosaurus claws at the Fernbank Museum. Each creation is a careful collaboration with the neighborhood or cultural institution that commissioned it, from the yellow door in the East Atlanta Village Farmers Market to the Trap Music Museum’s hot-pink, headphones-wearing one.
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
Annie Peterle fell in love with the project when she discovered her first Tiny Door. “Each one had its own flavor that told you something special about its location,” she recalls of her early enchantment. “So not only did you have to really pay attention to the neighborhood as you searched for its door, you also looked at the neighborhood in a new light based on what the door ‘said’ to you.”
Peterle, who lives in Grant Park, wondered why her neighborhood didn’t have its own door. When she inquired, Singer said no one had asked her to make one yet—so Peterle did. The monthslong process involved neighborhood walks, conversations with enthusiastic community members and city officials, and photos of typical Grant Park doors. After much discussion, Singer installed two doors, one on each side of the park, so everyone in the neighborhood felt included. Today, the Grant Park Tiny Doors are just a part of the fabric of the neighborhood.
“The doors have joined neighbors in celebrating weddings and graduations,” says Peterle. “They’ve encouraged people to vote, hosted impromptu picnics, sported decorations for multiple holidays, and inspired residents and visitors of all ages to imagine who lives behind them.”
Photograph by CatMax Photography
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
Though each new door is created by invitation from the surrounding community, Singer has a few requirements for her installations. The doors must be free and open to the public, accessible to people with disabilities, and unbranded. And, as art designed for exploring Atlanta, the doors also have to be within city limits, though Singer stretched the rule to include a few in Decatur.
Over the years, the Tiny Doors have become a sort of public scavenger hunt, with visitors from across the country using Google Maps—which lists all 36 doors—to find them around town. These days, they’re synonymous with Atlanta, says Jamie Vosmeier, the vice president of sales and marketing at The Fox Theatre, which has a Tiny Door at the box office—and a bonus one backstage, not counted on the official list. “Artists don’t have as much time as they’d like to explore our vibrant city when they’re in town for a show, but the Tiny Doors installation backstage allows them a sneak peek into our vibrant arts scene,” Vosmeier says.
They may be tiny, but each of Singer’s Tiny Doors is a monumental effort. She and her small team make each door by hand out of composite resin. (Singer used wood for her early models, but she learned quickly that wood was not the right material for public art.)
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
Photograph courtesy of Tiny Doors ATL
After months of ideation, every door takes between 40 and 60 hours to complete, followed by a time-consuming labyrinth of securing permits and physical installation. The Tiny Door at State Farm Arena—a red door nestled between the T and the L on the building’s giant “ATLANTA” sign—took two years to make its official debut.
The Atlanta community has supported Singer along the way: Atlantic Station housed her as an artist-in-residence for several years, though she’s now opened a studio in Reynoldstown, where she lives. Lindalisa Severo, chair of the Reynoldstown Civic Improvement League, sees Tiny Doors ATL as a microcosm of the neighborhood’s inclusivity and creativity. “Having the Tiny Doors studio in our neighborhood continues this long-standing tradition, ensuring that art remains central to our community’s identity,” says Severo.
While she is the artist behind the project, Singer says the doors have never been about her: They’re by and for Atlanta. “Every time I leave a Tiny Door, I reach for my keys,” she says. “It’s like leaving my house, but it’s a great reminder I can’t lock it because it’s not mine. It belongs to the city now.”
This article appears in our December 2024 issue.
