Our house is not large but it has more than its fair share of doors: eleven on the ground floor alone. And that's not counting closet doors. I remember when we bought this house in 1971, it was advertised as having "rambling informality." That meant there was no rhyme or reason to its layout. There are no real halls; one room just leads into another. Kids have always loved running around the circle on the first floor--front vestibule to living room to dining/piano room to pantry to den and back to the front again. Yes, there are rooms spinning off this circle--master bedroom and bath, screened porch, kitchen, lavatory--and there are two sets of stairs, one going to the second floor and the other to the cellar, evidence both of the original 100 year-old house and the additions built in 1960. Ed and I haven't changed a thing. We like its strangely sloping floors and mismatched mouldings. We even like the old scarred pine floors laid right next to the newer oak ones. A real old shoe of a house.

I've just added this and three other images to my "Edward Hopper visits my home" gallery. CLICK HERE to see them.

I've been working with my Detroit Institute of Arts photos and, strangely enough, this is my favorite so far. There's something about its minimalism that appeals to me. I'd guess I took a dozen photos from that vantage point--looking over the railing from the third floor down to the second--and am now wondering if they might make an interesting gallery on their own. I'll know when I've prepared all the photos in this series.

I feel so fortunate to be a photographer. Nothing ever slips totally under my radar.

(Best viewed in original size)

When I wrote earlier about the Grand Reopening of the Detroit Institute of Arts, I focused on the party aspect of it all. Of course I was still high from dancing for hours to some astounding electronic music DJs. Besides it was 5 a.m. and I'd been up all night. But today I want to celebrate the jewel of a museum that Detroit has recreated.

We've always been known for our excellent collection of art--apparently the 4th best in the United States--but until now most of it was in storage. We just didn't have sufficient space to display it. But six years of construction, $158 million including an unexpected $40 million charge to remove asbestos, visionary DIA Director Graham Beal's insistence that the museum be reinvented to be more accessible to the people of Detroit--what some museum experts are calling a "populist revolution"--the addition of 31,000 square feet of gallery space so that 5500 works of art can be displayed at a time, inventive design ideas implemented by master architect Robert Graves, four new galleries devoted to African American art--unusual in any museum--plus exciting new interactive and multimedia programs for all ages makes the 122 year-old Detroit Institute of Arts the place to watch in museum circles. But more than that, it puts the DIA on track to becoming the thriving center of Detroit's cultural and artistic life that it deserves to be. And judging from the people's response during its 32-hour Grand Reopening, someone sure had their finger on the pulse of the people when they dreamed this daring dream into being.

On Friday night, the Detroit News reported: "At the latest count, around 9 p.m., the 32-hour marathon reopening had attracted more than 19,000 visitors, an average of about 1,000 people entering every 30 minutes, said Sven Gierlinger, vice president of museum operations. The crowds were so heavy around 2 p.m. staffers temporarily had to restrict access to the building, which has a capacity of about 7,000, he said."

Hundreds waited outside in the cold for people to leave so they could get in. Every gallery I visited was jampacked. Even when I scooted through the second floor galleries at 1 a.m. on Saturday morning. When I finally left the museum at 3:20 a.m., young people were still streaming in. Now they may have been there to party, but what I noticed in every gallery was each person's rapt engagement with the art...no matter what their age, race, national origin, educational background or economic situation. Director Beale's populist revolution was happening before my eyes! It was one of the most exciting experiences of my 42 years in this amazing city. And I think I may have had the longest staying power of almost anyone--16 1/2 hours straight! CLICK HERE to see what the Detroit News reporter Ursula Walker had to say about your PBase friend Patricia.

(Best seen in the original size)

Yesterday I was a woman possessed. Today I'm just plain wild! It's now 5 a.m. and I have yet to go to bed. Heck, I didn't get home until 4 a.m. And I left the party early. There were still folks arriving when I left at 3:20 a.m.! Actually, this party is going to continue for 32 solid hours! That's how long the nonstop celebration of the Grand Reopening of our beloved Detroit Institute of Arts is scheduled to go on. And it doesn't cost anyone a penny, that is unless they want to buy food at the Cafe or some treasures at the Museum Shop.

I'd make a conservative guess that tens of thousands of people came to the museum today...and I should know. I got there 45 minutes after it opened at 10 a.m. on Friday morning, so I saw most of them at one time or another. Every gallery was jampacked, and it was the most wonderful cross section of our city and its suburbs with persons of all ethnicities, ages and countries of origin. I can't count how many non-English languages I overheard being spoken.

I took many, many photos and someday I may gather the best of them into a DIA gallery, but this morning I just want to show you where I danced my bootie off from 10:30 p.m. until 3 a.m. I took this photo at 12:30 a.m. and it only shows a portion of the crowd at the dance in the Prentis Court. There were DJs playing electronic music, my favorite music to dance to. It was awesome!!!

And now I am taking this weary body to bed...

The first thing Ed and I bought together after returning from our honeymoon in November 1966 was this used Chickering piano. He can't really live without one. Since the age of eight Ed has been playing the piano. Although his parents tried to get him to take lessons, it wasn't his thing. Playing by ear is. What a special touch he has, even when playing the boogie woogie, the genre for which he became known in college. For 41 years we've been singing together at the piano. Sometimes I sing and Ed accompanies me; other times we sing duets. Back in the 1970s and 80s our home was the unofficial neighborhood youth center, and singing was a big part of it. The parents used to be surprised to hear their little ones knowing all the words to songs from the 40s, but that's what we'd sing. When we hosted three young adults from Japan for a ten-day sister city exchange in 1976, we taught them the song, "Getting to Know You." Thirty-one years later I still think of them when we sing it.

A few hours after I took this picture last night, Ed and I were at the piano again. Our songs were "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes," "In The Mood," "Coney Island Baby," "My Funny Valentine," and "Perfidia." On this American Thanksgiving morning, it's simple things like this that I'm most thankful for.

If you're a regular visitor, I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that I've just added this image to my "Edward Hopper visits my home" gallery. CLICK HERE to see it.

I could not count the number of times I've seen this view as I first walked and now scoot through our den at night on my way into the kitchen. But isn't it the familiar that we so often ignore? We'll travel across the country or even the world to see the unusual, or what to us is unusual, while shutting our eyes to what is around us every day. My artistic compulsion of late is to see, REALLY see, what has become invisible through over-familiarity. I'm starting right here at home. And I'm finding that light and shadow are my most trusted allies in the search.

This is one of six new images I added on Monday to my gallery, "Edward Hopper visits my home." (CLICK HERE to see it.) I want to thank everyone who has visited and left comments thus far. You are helping me see that simple subjects can touch people just as much as splendiferous ones. And so my search for the familiar continues...

Before I share today's rather lengthy blog entry, let me repeat yesterday's late afternoon announcement of a new gallery of photos called "Edward Hopper visits my home." CLICK HERE to see it.

I've heard it said that each person lives primarily in the past, present or future. I am a present-liver, so much so that I'm apt to forget my own past. Photography is a good example. I've been saying to myself and anyone who would listen that my interest in photography began on July 5, 2006 when I bought my "first SLR," a Canon Rebel XT. Well, that's not exactly true. But I wasn't making it up; I'd just forgotten. In cleaning out our Fibber McGee & Molly hall closet--only the seniors among you will know to whom I'm referring--I found my old camera that I'd bought 35 years ago. Guess what? It was an SLR! I only used that trusty Konica Autoflex TC in auto mode, but it still took good quality film photos. And I used it a lot. We have boxes full of photos to prove it! We also have a few albums, two of them containing black & white prints.

The first album contains a series of images I took over four seasons starting in September 1988. I'd been diagnosed on September 8 with chronic progressive multiple sclerosis, and taking these photos seemed to ground me. Many of them were taken on solitary walks with our dog Timmy. I focused pretty much on whatever came into my line of vision, from empty tampax containers washed up on the beach to the wild deer on Detroit's Belle Isle. At the end of the summer of 1989, I was done. Looking back, I can see that taking these stark black & white images helped me look unflinchingly at my diagnosis and begin to come to terms with it. To be honest, photography was much more effective therapy than two months of visits with a psychiatrist.

The second album contains the black & white photos I took during two weeks spent in Oaxaca, Mexico. In June 1992 I chose to celebrate my 50th birthday by participating in a three-week program intended to introduce Norteamericanos to the reality of life among our sisters and brothers to the south. We started with one week of classes at Erie College in Pennsylvania. While there we learned about Mexico's history, geography, current political and social situation, arts and culture. We also focused strenuously on trying to become somewhat fluent in the Spanish language. Fifteen of us then flew to Oaxaca, while ten went to the Yucatan Penninsula. I'll never forget walking at dusk for miles from the airport carrying our bags to the house where we'd be staying. And we didn't stay down near the zocalo with the tourists either; we were in a house halfway up the mountain in a poor neighborhood. We ten women stayed in five bunk beds in one small bedroom and the five guys stayed in another room. We had to sign up for the two five-minute showers we were allowed each week, and each of us volunteered to work with the poor and/or elderly in town or up on the mountain with the kids. I bet you can guess which job I chose! I'd have to write a book to share all that I learned during those two weeks, but I can say that my heart was broken open and old assumptions came tumbling out. I was never the same again. And taking black & white photos was essential to the process. Color would have "prettified" things too much. I needed to see life as it was, not as I'd imagined it would be.

Not to be too analytical, but it seems that I turn to black & white whenever I need to see with clear eyes.

Regarding digital photography, I bought my first digital point-and-shoot camera in December 2000. For the next six years I posted hundreds of thousands of photos on my daily blog. So even keeping a blog is not new to me.

Oh, the things we don't know about each other! Oh, the things I forget about myself...

So what was your favorite art project as a kid? Was it painting with tempera paints or drawing with nice sharp pencils or coloring with crayons? Maybe you really enjoyed pasting cut-up magazine photos into creative collages. Or perhaps crafty projects like those metal potholder looms with their multicolored cotton loops were more your thing. For the students in the K-5 school where I volunteer, clay jazzes them the most. Even our most challenging students stay focused when they're working with clay. It doesn't seem to matter whether they're molding or glazing, clay days are fun for everyone.

Don't you think we grownups would do well to bring out the clay on those days when our boss gets on our case or the computer crashes and burns? Wouldn't we need fewer drinks and/or pills if we could pound on a wad of clay and create some masterpiece when things go bad? Hey, there's nothing like the earth energy of clay to ground the storm. Try it sometime; you might be surprised at how good it feels.

Many of us comment favorably on our sister and brother PBasers' photos that elevate the ordinary into the realm of art, but how many times have you seen the lowly shower thus featured? Today I want to celebrate my shower, a place where I have spent countless hours of water-inspired delight. At the end of almost every day I go to my shower to wash away the debris--both physical and emotional--that has attached itself to me in the past 24 hours. There's something so soothing about sitting under a spray of water and letting it sink into the pores of your skin. I call it my water meditation.

Are there other shower photos out there in PBase land? If so, would you please post the links here? Or maybe you'll be inspired to take one yourself. Showers are such willing subjects.

Like a child who asks for just one more trip to the washroom, one more drink of water, one more kiss before the lights go out and it's time for bed, this year's leaves don't want to fall. Here it is mid-November and there are still fully-leafed trees everywhere I look. Yes, some have turned out their lights, but many are asking to stay up just a little bit longer. I wonder when they will finally lay their heads down on the pillow and go to sleep?

Music by Carolyn McDade/ Text excerpted from/based on The Earth Charter

There it is in a nutshell. If we could live these principles, imagine what our world would look like! Imagine how it would feel for each one of us--and for every species on the planet--if we could join together in this work! I am reminded of John Lennon's song, "Imagine" where these words appear:

And the world will be as one

Before we act, we must dream. We must DARE to dream. But dreaming is not without risk. When we dream we are opening ourselves up to the possibility of failure. If we stay numbed and without hope, yes, we protect ourselves from disappointment, but at what cost? In this case, at what cost to ourselves and all who share life with us here on this fragile planet? We must dream of a better way of existing together because it is obvious that our recent attempts are not working. Not working for us as a human community. Not working for the life forms around us. And not working for the planet itself.

But we don't have to do it by ourselves. Much of the dreaming already exists. And it is the product of minds and hearts of concerned individuals and groups across the globe who joined together to envision a world of sustainability, mutual respect, justice and peace. A world where each voice is heard and valued, even those too faint for the human ear to hear, even those that cry out in the depths of oceans polluted by human choices.

This dream is clearly expressed in The Earth Charter (CLICK HERE to read it). And there are those in our world who are studying this dream and doing all they can to enact its principles in their lives. Among their numbers are the communities of singing women across Canada and the United States who joined together to work on the "My Heart Is Moved" CD project inspired by The Earth Charter and coordinated by the composer, spiritual feminist, social activist Carolyn McDade. When I took this photo on Friday night, one of the communities--the Gaia Women of the Great Lakes Basin--were launching their CD in Michigan. Tonight--Saturday--they will again join together to launch the "My Heart is Moved" CD in Windsor, Ontario. To read about and/or order a copy of this magnificent CD, CLICK HERE.

Dare to dream! Our lives depend on it...

Funny how we can get so offbase if we don't get enough sleep. I'm sure for each of us this shows itself in unique ways. What happens with me is I begin to care too much what other people think. When I'm my true grounded self, I respect other people's opinions but listen most closely to my own, especially that inner voice that always speaks the truth.

Well, after a wonderful night's sleep, some good hard exercise at the gym, an afternoon of satisfying work on the computer, the support of you PBasers in your kind comments, a good dinner, a bracing after-dinner walk/scoot with my sweetie, and watching a DVD that had a message I needed to hear ("Four Minute Mile" about Roger Bannister), I feel myself again, ready to keep following my path and no one else's. Yes, my friends, I'm back on track again.

This photo is of the ramp that gets me and my scooter in and out of the house. It is the work of a master carpenter named Tom Sape, And is based on an inspired design by our dear friend and neighbor, Bill Mackey. It is my ramp to the world.

I've just added eight more images to my new portrait gallery. CLICK HERE to see them. The new photos are on Page 2.

It's now 4 a.m. Tuesday morning and I'm hoping that after I write this entry I'll be able to fall asleep. I tried at 2 a.m. but had no success. I don't believe in the afterlife, neither heaven nor hell, but I do believe in Presence and I'm feeling my friend Mary's presence tonight. I lay in bed trying to remember what photo I'd framed and given Mary when I visited her up north in July, but I couldn't dredge it up from my memory. I don't know why I even thought it mattered. I have yet to cry for her and maybe it's unshed tears that are keeping me awake. Or maybe it's not Mary at all; maybe it's nothing more than my body trying to adjust to this new season. Who knows? I sure don't. One thing I do know, though: for me, sleeplessness has generally accompanied an internal shift of some kind. In the past, it's been one of the first signs. OK, my eyelids are getting heavy. It's time to try again.

By the way, I took this photo of the Gaia Women of the Great Lakes during their rehearsal on Saturday. They were lined up in front of the window at the Birmingham Unitarian Church where next Friday's CD Launch will be held.

Oh, I almost forgot! A few hours ago I put up a new gallery of portraits. CLICK HERE to see it. Nine of the twelve photos have not been posted before.

Music by Carolyn McDade/ Text excerpted from The Earth Charter

Yesterday (Saturday)I was with the Gaia Women of the Great Lakes Basin. Many of these women from Michigan and Ontario have been singing together since the early 1990s. In September 2002 they answered the call of the composer, spiritual feminist, social activist Carolyn McDade to begin work on a CD project called "O Beautiful Gaia." This call was much deeper than simply to sing; it was to embrace the earth with every fiber of their beings. To study, reflect and act to save this precious planet that is so threatened by our human choices. And not just the planet itself, but all who call it their home, especially the creatures and plants whose very existence is endangered in all parts of the world. In the spring and summer of 2003, three communities of women--Atlantic Canada, Atlantic New England, and the Great Lakes Basin--recorded their portions of the double CD, "O Beautiful Gaia." It was launched in Autumn 2003. I was privileged to be part of this project.

And now, in Autumn 2007, a new CD is being launched by Carolyn McDade and hundreds of women across Canada and the United States, including the Gaia Women of the Great Lakes Basin. This brand new CD--"Our Heart Is Moved"--is at its heart a choral and instrumental interpretation of The Earth Charter, a visionary and profoundly realistic document completed in 2000 after years of communal deliberations by thousands of individuals and groups across the globe, people who recognized the choices we humans have to bring "peril or promise"--from another song on the new CD--to our earth and its countless forms of life. The women I was with on Saturday were preparing for next weekend's CD launches in Detroit and in Windsor, Ontario. They brought tears to my eyes. After two years of not singing with these wonderful women, I will be rejoining them after next weekend's launch.

I have just finished listening to "My Heart Is Moved" CD. The title says it all: my heart and mind and spirit are forever moved by this extraordinary gift to our world community. Let me encourage you to go to the "My Heart Is Moved" web page, and order at least one CD if at all possible. If you need someone to mail it to you, just let me know. I will see that you receive this CD wherever on this great and glorious planet you live. CLICK HERE to go to the "My Heart Is Moved" web page. If you'd like to get to know Carolyn McDade and her work, CLICK HERE. To read The Earth Charter and its history, CLICK HERE.

By the way, the sheet music on the piano in my photo is to "We Are One," the song I quoted at the start. It is on the CD. And I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that Mary White was a beloved member of this community of singing women. She will always be with us. After all, we are one.

On Thursday, November 1, my friend Mary died as gently as she had lived. Her beloved family (of blood & choice) was with her the last days of her life. But her daughter Beth realized that her mother needed to be alone for the final act of letting go. So, early Thursday morning, everyone left Mary's bedside--even left the house--and Mary soon released her grasp on life and passed into another sphere. Five hours later, in Seattle, Washington, my niece Gretchen and her husband Matt celebrated the birth of their first child, a little girl they named Madalyn. And the cycle continues...

In response to my photo blog entry for Thursday, my dear PBase friend Ai Li sent me a message privately. I am grateful she has agreed to let me share her words here. Ai Li writes, "Life meets, life leaves. Life takes, life gives. Life doubts, life believes. Life dreams, life wakes. Life remembers, life fades. Life loves, life hates. Life quits, life tries. Life lives, life dies. Life laughs, life cries... Life is indeed a riddle that no one has understood, because no one knows what tomorrow holds... How will it be today? We are alive this moment, yet we know not for how long. There is much happiness in one moment, while just the next, carries so much grief. And so, life remains an unsolved riddle..."