Thursday, September 14, 2017

Surviving Hurricane Irma

Bruce photographing what used to be their sea wall.
Their dock was still underwater.

Let me preface this post by saying my heart goes out to everyone impacted by Hurricanes Irma and Harvey. These devastating storms caused so much damage, and I am thankful my friends, family and community all came out on the other side more or less unscathed.

My personal story of surviving Hurricane Irma is, again thankfully, one of mere inconvenience and embarrassment. (Yes, embarrassment, but we'll get to that.) So consider this post a bit of comic relief.

I didn't live in Punta Gorda in 2004 when the Category 4 Hurricane Charley took an unexpected turn and blew right into town. It caught people unprepared and wreaked havoc. Our downtown was decimated. Many people--including residents of my condo complex--lost their roofs, exposing their homes to the rain and wind. It was a disaster, but Punta Gorda has come back stronger than ever.

This experience explains in part the mass freak out and, then, exodus that took place once Hurricane Irma started bearing down on Florida, despite the fact it was heading for the East Coast. I sat at home bored, watching lots of TV and wishing the storm would just get on with it (ideally after taking a sharp turn out into the Atlantic).


My sister Suzanne lives on the East Coast near Boca Raton. Her family headed to Atlanta. While their home is quite sturdy, they too had experienced a Category 4 hurricane--Wilma--and didn't want to take any chances. (Due to circumstances way too complicated to explain here, Suzanne, Drew and Jakie found themselves with two other families on a chartered jet for the trip up. Jakie was kind of digging the whole flying thing.)

But the fickle Irma took a turn west. On Friday, evacuation in my area of Punta Gorda was recommended due to concerns about storm surge. Still, I sat watching TV (although I did make plans to go to Bruce and Dorrit's on Saturday to weather out the worst of the storm). Most people would have started thinking at this point about what to bring with them if they had to leave their home, but my ostrich imitation remained intact.

When I woke Saturday morning, a mandatory evacuation notice had been issued. Storm surges--which are measured from dry ground--of 9+ feet were predicted for our area. Punta Gorda Isles is a community built on canals, so there's water out my back door. It sounded pretty grim. Susan and Steve had already jumped in their car and started driving north. Bruce and Dorrit decided to go to a local shelter. With the storm now heading for us, I decided to go to Suzanne's empty house. Some neighbors had a key if I couldn't get in the side door.

Artwork by Susan Fraley
I became a whirling dervish as I alternately brought as much furniture as I could to the second story and threw things in my car. This mixed media painting Susan created as a housewarming present came with me along with important documentation and a truly random assortment of clothing and family photos. I locked my door and left, wondering what I would come back to once the storm had passed.

The side door to my sister's house was jammed, so I stopped by Jennifer and Jarrett Cooper's house to pick up the extra key. I'd met the Coopers in passing, but didn't know them well. There was no time to linger as they were battening down their own hatches for a storm wider than the entire state of Florida. I got home and tucked in to watch the storm news.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a tornado warning and a text from Suzanne to fill the upstairs bath tub. This part is important, because I didn't realize power and water are separate systems in most homes. Having grown up with threats of hurricanes in a home with a septic tank, making sure you had enough water to flush your toilets was a big concern. Not so much in Parkland, but it's part of the hurricane ritual, and there is always a chance the water will go out as well.

I went back to sleep and awoke to a dark house. I found a corner of the house protected by impact glass rather than shutters and watched the storm. Periodically, I'd talk to my family, and my mother encouraged me to bring some pots outside to catch more water. Being the obedient daughter, I did just that -- and the front door clicked closed behind me. I frantically tugged at it, but to no avail. Then I tried the side door, but I'd quite inconveniently locked it. It was raining and windy and I was outside. The only good news was that I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt rather than the nightgown I'd been out in earlier.

My only option was to walk the few blocks to the Coopers and, essentially, ask for the kindness of strangers. I appeared at their glass doors looking like a drowned rat and shaking with emotion. They threw their doors open and welcomed me in. I didn't immediately realize they still had power despite a graphic of Irma flashing on their big screen TV. Jennifer hustled me to their room to get me out of my wet clothes. I happily donned her one size too small yoga pants and t-shirt.  This was no time to worry about appearances.

And so began my next 24 hours at what their son Chase promptly dubbed "The Cooper Shelter." I couldn't have found a better place to wait out the storm. Yes, they lost power late that afternoon. But it was wonderful to be with other people rather than worry about what was happening on my own. The Cooper Shelter had previously welcomed in Jennifer's parents, who were refugees from Miami, so I wasn't alone in my concern about water levels. Despite my massive embarrassment at having locked myself out of my sister's house, I felt perfectly comfortable there. It was a human example of the rule of transitivity. The Coopers like my sister, my sister likes me, so the Coopers and I got along just fine. (Hopefully, my perception of their feelings is accurate!)

My heroes -- Jarrett and Grant Cooper
But the Coopers' generosity didn't end there. The next morning, Jarrett, their son Grant and I went back to the Peterson home to find a way in. Happily, only three panels of shutters had to come down before I found an open door. Jarrett also hefted the garage door open so I could get my car out at the appropriate time.  We'd learned overnight that Irma had come ashore at Marco Island and Naples, south of Punta Gorda, so the local storm surge had been minimal.  I later learned my condo development never even lost power. I was thankful beyond belief -- and never happier to step foot back in my house than I was on Tuesday.

So ends my Hurricane Irma saga. My sister gave me a postcard some time back that reads "Putting the whole hideous thing behind me by blogging about it." And so that's what I've done. Sadly, for thousands of others, the recovery process is much more complicated.







Friday, September 8, 2017

Irving Penn: Centennial at the Met

The Tarot Reader (Bridget Tichenor
and Jean Patchett) (1949)
If memory serves, my introduction to Irving Penn's fashion photographs was an exhibit at the New York Public Library in the mid-1990s. Penn's couture photographs are, without question, stunning. Their creativity draws the viewer in, making the photo about more than just the clothes. It's no wonder they've stood the test of time.

But there's much more to Penn's work. The recent Irving Penn: Centennial exhibit at the Met gave viewers a sense of his interests outside the world of couture.

Penn traveled the globe for his work with Vogue. He often extended his time on location to shoot subjects that caught his attention. His Cuzco series of portraits is a prime example. After finishing a 1948 pre-Christmas fashion shoot in Lima, Penn headed for Cuzco, where he rented a studio from a local photographer.

Mother and Posing Daughter, Cuzco (1948)
Residents of nearby villages often traveled to Cuzco during the holiday season to enjoy the festivities and get their annual family portraits taken. Imagine their surprise and, perhaps, concern when a random American photographer greeted them when they entered the studio. (Their concerns were likely assuaged by the fact that this photographer paid them to take their pictures.)

I suspect the portraits were different from those already hanging in the family homes. In her article about the exhibit for the New York Times, Roberta Smith suggested this child's pointing finger was a reference to Goya's painting of The Duchess of Alba. I love that. But what I love even more is the expression on the child's face. Her attitude is more royal than that of the Duchess herself.

Sewer cleaner, New York (1950)
The Cuzco experience led Penn to his Small Trades series of photos from London and New York. Again, this series--Penn's largest--was enabled by a shoot he did for Vogue in Paris. The photos remind me of the old nursery rhyme about the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker as Penn captured tradesman from all walks of life.

Penn's subjects were shot in the manner he favored for his couture and celebrity shots -- in a daylight studio with a neutral backdrop. He captured them dressed as they would be for a day at work with the tools of their trade close at hand. The occupations include fishmonger, tree pruner, knife grinder, and cucumber seller. (That's a niche business if I ever heard of one.)  I chose to share his photo of a sewer cleaner because it's got to be one of the world's most unappreciated professions -- plus his tools are very cool. Interestingly, Vogue published these photos in the pages of its magazine both domestically and abroad.

Tribesman with Nose Disc,
New Guinea (1970)
Vogue was also instrumental in helping Penn achieve his dream of traveling to the Pacific and Africa. From 1967 to 1971, Penn made ten trips to the region with supermodel Lisa Fonssagrives--now Mrs. Irving Penn--by his side. He used a simple tent as his onsite studio.

I would love to know how Penn was able to gain the trust of these people to take their photographs.The exhibit included some wonderful videos of him with his subjects, which included women swathed from head to toe in their burkas.

Penn with Moroccan subjects
Penn said of the experience, "The studio became, for each of us, a sort of neutral area. It was not their home, as I had brought this alien enclosure into their lives, it was not my home, as I had obviously come from elsewhere, from far away. But in this limbo there was for us both the possibility of contact that was a revelation to me and often, I could tell, a moving experience for the subjects themselves, who without words--by only their stance and their concentration--were able to say much that spanned the gulf between our different worlds."

Photographs from Penn's trips to the region are collected in his World without Rooms.

Irving Penn: Centennial was a treat from start to finish. His photographs reveal the beauty in ordinary people. And, of course, the beauty in those supermodels.

If all this talk of Irving Penn has made you crave some great fashion, check out The Collection on Amazon. The show is set in a Parisian fashion house after WWII and features some incredible couture -- and photographs. And from Oct. 18-Jan. 14, the Dali in St. Petersburg will host a Dali & Schiaparelli exhibit. Stay tuned for a report on that show!



Saturday, September 2, 2017

Discovering Florine Stettheimer

Family Portrait II (1933)
A surge of excitement ran through me the moment Wendi and I entered the Florine Stettheimer: Painting Poetry exhibit at the Jewish Museum. Her paintings nearly burst off the walls with color and life. Many had a Chagall-like feeling to them with their sense of whimsy. Who was Florine Stettheimer, and why had I never heard of her?

The Stettheimers were a wealthy Jewish family who were contemporaries of the Guggenheims and Morgenthaus in New York. They were intellectuals who traveled the world. Joseph abandoned his wife and five children when the kids were young. But Rosetta had family money of her own, so their luxurious lifestyle was not hindered by his absence.

Detail from Spring Sale at Bendels (1921)
Prior to World War I, the family lived in Europe, where Florine studied painting in the cultural capitals of the Continent. But with the outbreak of the War, Florine, her mother and two of her sisters moved back to New York. Florine and her sisters--who became known as the "Stetties"--moved in the artistic circles of the day. Their home became a salon of sorts for avant garde society. Their guests included Marcel Duchamp and Georgia O'Keeffe.

Florine also wrote poetry that had a tongue-in-cheek quality about it. (Her daring self-portrait styled after Manet's "Olympia" and Titian's "Venus of Urbino" did as well.)

A Model (Nude Self-Portrait) (1915)
Take, for instance, this untitled poem.

Our Parties
Our Picnics
Our Banquets
Our Friends
Have at last a raison d'etre
Seen in color and design
It amuses me
To recreate them
To paint them.

Florine's work as an artist extended to costume and set design. She designed both for an opera entitled Four Saints in Three Acts by Virgil Thomson. Gertrude Stein wrote one of the opera's librettos.

Costume for "Georgette" 
Florine also wrote a ballet inspired by a performance of Debussy's Afternoon of a Faun danced by the Ballet Russes. It was called Revellers of the Four Arts Ball, and one of the ballet's themes was the transience of pleasure. Although the ballet was never produced, the exhibit contained many of Florine's costume designs for the work. They are spectacular.

Now knowing a bit about who Florine Stettheimer was, I still wondered why I'd never heard of her. The exhibit description explained that Florine has frequently been considered "a lightweight feminine artist." But her lack of name recognition might also result from her low-key profile during her lifetime. Florine apparently intended her paintings and poetry be enjoyed primarily by family and friends. In fact, she had expressed a desire to have her work destroyed after her death. Luckily, her sister Ettie, who served as executor, ignored this wish.

For a more scholarly review of the show, read Roberta Smith's article in the New York Times by clicking here. (The article also includes more images of Stettheimer's vibrant artwork.)

Florine Stettheimer: Painting in Poetry will be on display at the Jewish Museum in New York through September 24th. It's an exhibit that you are sure to leave with a smile on your face. 




Thursday, August 24, 2017

When Comedy is No Longer Funny

I knew going in that Hannah Gadsby's show "Nanette" at EdFringe wasn't going to be a total laughfest. I had read she would be talking about coming of age as a gay woman in Tasmania at a time when the country was debating whether homosexuality should be legalized. But in the hands of a skilled comedian, almost anything can be funny, right? And therein lies the rub. Having established a career making people laugh about the trials and tribulations of being gay, Gadsby is ready to step away from the mic and acknowledge that she's content with who she is.

Gadsby does have a lot of funny material, though. Like her objection to the assumption that all gay people love to party. "What about shy people who are gay and just want to stay home and read a book?" she asked with a look on her face that evoked laughter from the audience. "And what's with that flag? I'm all for gay pride, but those colors just don't work together. And I'm really not a parade kind of person."

Gadsby came out to most of her family many years ago. Her mother's response to the disclosure was something like it would be better if Hannah were a murderer. Really? Somehow, they've gotten past that and are now the closest of friends.

But Gadsby still hasn't come out to her grandmother. "Any boyfriends, Hannah?" her granny asked during a recent visit. "No, granny," she replied. Hannah realized her grandmother must know that she's gay and was providing an opening for her to talk about it. But, she says, she still carries a deep feeling of shame and just couldn't acknowledge her identity to her grandmother. My heart broke for her.

Gadsby says she's retiring from comedy after "Nanette" completes its run. Comedy, she says, requires tension as you set up the joke and then hit the pay-off. She feels there's enough tension in today's world without piling on. Plus, she said, she likes herself now. She no longer wants to bring a room of people together to laugh at her life.

Gadsby shared a story that she's opened many shows with. When she was 17, she got off a bus at the same time as a couple of lovebirds. The guy thought she'd been flirting with his girlfriend and approached her threateningly. Hannah has always been masculine looking, so it wasn't until he got in her face that he realized she was female. "Oh, sorry," he said as he backed away. "My mistake."  Cue the laughter from the audience.

But she now reveals that's not where the story ended. When the guy walked back to his girlfriend, she explained that Hannah must be gay because she had in fact been hitting on her. His principles no longer prevented him from going back and beating the shit out of her. Hannah found herself bloodied and alone on a street corner and feeling she had nobody to turn to. Again, my heart broke.

"Nanette" has been receiving international accolades. It was named Best Show at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. It's nominated for the Best Comedy Show at the Fringe. The show was well-received in London and is heading to the Sydney Opera House post-Edinburgh.

To read some reviews of Gadsby's show, click here and here. And, in case you're interested, the woman who inspired the name of the show was a homophobic barista in Australia. And while I hope I bear no resemblance to this Nanette, I thank her for providing a name for Gadsby's show that resulted in my return to the Fringe. "Nanette" is just one of the performances I saw this year that will linger with me for a long time to come.


Friday, August 18, 2017

Experiencing the Art of Hélio Oiticica

I glimpsed a nicely dressed barefoot patron when I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor of the Whitney. This was my first clue that the
Hélio Oiticica: To Organize Delirium exhibit was going to be a bit different from typical museum fare. I walked around the galleries while waiting for the tour to start and was, quite frankly, baffled. Why were there people enjoying a game of pool? Why were people lying in hammocks with Jimi Hendrix playing in the background? It would all be revealed in due course.
The pool table is thought to be a
reference to van Gogh's "Night Café."
The sound of the balls hitting one another
also engages another different sense.
Hélio Oiticica was the first artist to create happenings, our docent explained. My ears perked up at the term, which reminded me of a crazy "happening" my friend Danita and I stumbled into more than 25 years ago in California. I didn't know at the time that happenings are a type of audience participation performance art. All I knew was that it was fun. 

Wearing a Parangolé
Oiticica's initial works progressed from 2D to 3D to 4D (with the fourth dimension being time). Colors were moved off the plane of a painting and into the viewer's space. The colors change as you look at them from different perspectives. Some works allow participants--Oiticica's preferred term--to walk through them and move panels, adding another element for both the participant and the bystander. In today's art world, this might not seem particularly radical. But the concept was "mindblowing" when Oiticica introduced it in the 1960s. His approach is given further import when placed in context against the backdrop of Brazil's repressive military regime. Oititica's art gave participants a bit of control otherwise lacking in their daily lives.

As interesting as these works were, they were just the beginning. Participants became an even more integral part of the art with Oiticica's Parangolés. The pieces are "mobile sculptures" made of cotton, plastic, and other materials. I happily donned one but drew the line at dancing the samba as Oiticia intended.
Tropicalia
Then there were the fully immersive pieces. Tropicalia is one of Oiticica's Penetrables, works that participants can literally walk into and experience. The ground was covered with sand, and the floor of each structure had a different texture--rocks, woodchips, even water.  (This piece explains the shoeless patron, although I don't think he was supposed to be wandering barefoot in other galleries.) A (live) parrot shrieked in the background.  Plants enlivened the landscape.

Our docent once again put the work in context. "Think of 1960s London where Tropicalia was first introduced," he said. "Men who visited museums wore suits and ties and had to roll their pant legs up before wading in." I loved the visual.

Jimi Hendrix "Cocoon"
Perhaps not surprisingly, cocaine became a big part of Oiticica's life. He used the drug frequently, feeling that it expanded his horizons. More intriguingly, he used the drug in his artwork -- literally.

Oiticica's fertile imagination envisioned nine "environmental pieces." Only five were realized during his lifetime, including a "nest" comprised of mattresses on which participants lie while listening to music and viewing pictures streamed onto the walls. Oititica intended for participants to file their nails while lying on the mattresses, creating cocaine-like flecks of white. (The Whitney skipped that component.)

But I preferred the hammock "cocoons" to the nests. The images on the walls and ceiling in the room were photographs on which Oititica had painted using cocaine for the pigment. Jimi Hendrix music enveloped us. It makes no sense, but the experience was extremely relaxing. In the hammock next to me laid a mother nestling with her small child. I felt like I could have rested there all afternoon, but I had places to go and people to see.

And so concluded another satisfying visit to the Whitney. Once again, my concept of art had been pushed beyond its previous limits with a knowledgeable docent leading the way. I loved it.











Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Taking a Look at Punta Gorda's History

Let's face it -- Most people are not going to visit a town's historical society and pore through dusty tomes to learn about bygone days. But in Punta Gorda, our town's history is on display all around us, thanks to the Punta Gorda Historic Mural Society. Dave Bise and I had the chance to talk with Kelly Gaylord, President of the Mural Society, for our Partnership for the Arts podcast.  It gave me an even greater appreciation for the work of this organization.

Hotel Charlotte Harbor, painted by Charles Peck
The Mural Society was founded in 1994 by Dr. Bob Andrews after a vacation to Vancouver, Washington. He enjoyed learning about Vancouver's history through its murals. Why couldn't Punta Gorda capture its own history in the same way?  The City Council immediately embraced the idea, and it wasn't long before a mural featuring the Hotel Charlotte Harbor graced a wall of the Punta Gorda Mall.

I can hear some people asking now, "What mall?" Sadly, the mall -- along with the mural -- was destroyed by Hurricane Charley. In total, ten of the then 20 murals were destroyed by the storm. All but two have been recreated.  The Hotel Charlotte Harbor is now memorialized on the walls of the Charlevoi Condos through two murals highlighting the hotel's history. 

Hotel Punta Gorda, painted by Charles Peck
Kelly explained that the Victorian-style hotel went through several iterations. It was built in 1886 when the Florida Southern Railway expanded into Punta Gorda. The Hotel Punta Gorda had 150 rooms and was the largest hotel in south Florida. (It only had four bathrooms per floor, though. Times have definitely changed.) The tower provided a vantage point for visitors like Winston Churchill and Teddy Roosevelt to view the river. Other famous guests shown in the mural include Clarence Darrow and Andrew Mellon. The hotel shuttered its doors in 1914.

In 1925, Baron Collier purchased and revitalized the hotel, renaming it Hotel Charlotte Harbor. The $250,000 in renovations corrected the bathroom deficiency and added two floors, with the fourth floor used by Collier as a personal apartment and the fifth floor featuring a glassed-in ballroom. The hotel's glory days lasted only five years before the Depression took its toll.  In 1956, the hotel was converted into a health spa that never operated in the black. It burned down in 1959 in a fire that could be seen for 25 miles.

Our First Firehouse, painted by Skip Dyrda
Each of Punta Gorda's 29 murals conveys an equally interesting story. Happily, there are numerous ways to learn about them. You can, of course, do your own tour of the murals. Each mural now has its own QR code that allows people a bit more tech savvy than I am to easily access the information on the Mural Society's website. Better yet, you can take a class with Kelly at FGCU's Renaissance Academy. One version walks students through all 29 murals--450 years of history--from the comfort of their seats in the classroom. During the season, Kelly also offers a walking tour that covers more than 15 of the murals. Participants in these tours also learn about the hidden symbols embedded in the murals. Information about both options is available on the Mural Society's website, which can be accessed by clicking here.

And if you really get the mural bug, check out the Florida Mural Trail.  The trail was established a couple of years ago--thanks, in part, to Kelly's efforts--to celebrate this fun form of public art. To qualify for inclusion, a town only has to have a couple of murals, so be sure to check out the numbers before you hit the road. The more important criteria is an organization responsible for maintaining the art. Lake Placid, with 48 murals, is definitely on my list.

To hear Kelly talk about Punta Gorda's murals, including the new firehouse murals, listen in to our podcast by clicking here. (Just scroll down a bit and you'll get to the interview.)  She also talks about what's involved in the creation of a mural, from the funding to the painting.

Happy learning! 

Thursday, July 27, 2017

Arts in Medicine at Shands Hospital

Medical Grand Rounds creator
Dr. Tony Gil
You wouldn't expect a program called Medical Grand Rounds to appeal to someone whose medical experience is limited to playing "Operation" as a kid. But the program's lectures focus on the connection between medicine and music and are presented in an accessible manner. As a bonus, the program supports our local Charlotte Symphony Orchestra through sponsorships by area medical professionals. Since its inception five years ago, the program has raised $125,000 for the CSO.

The most recent Medical Grand Rounds lecture featured Andrew Sanchez, a graduate of the University of Florida who's heading to Columbia Med School. While at UF, Andrew became involved with Shands' Arts in Medicine program.

Andrew Sanchez
Andrew was quick to distinguish arts in medicine programs from art/music therapy.  Music therapy, such as the work done by Dr. Oliver Sacks, is goal-oriented. A striking example is the work being done with non-verbal Alzheimers patients who respond to the music of their youth. By contrast, arts in medicine is process-oriented. Giving patients--and their families--the opportunity to listen to music or engage in an art project is a welcome distraction from dealing with whatever led to the hospitalization.

Andrew also noted the program "rehumanizes" patients in a time when they are referred to as "healthcare recipients" being treated by "healthcare providers." When enjoying music or art, patients are no longer defined by their condition. They get to just be people again, if only for a short time. And they regain some control by having the power to decide when and how they want to participate.

But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. First, a bit of history. Duke was the first hospital to launch an arts in medicine program in 1975. The program initially took the form of monthly concerts in a public area. (The CSO participated in this type of program last year when it performed a holiday concert at Golisano Children's Hospital of Southwest Florida.)  The idea spread, with the University of Iowa pioneering an aesthetic experience for patients with a focus on art and design.  UF's Shands joined in the late 1980s and is the first institution to have a formal artist in residence program. Today nearly 50% of hospitals have some kind of arts in medicine program.

The Shands program is quite expansive and includes everything from doing craft projects to collecting oral histories. Each area has artists in residence who are paid employees of the hospital. Their jobs include not only performing but auditioning volunteers and providing training. On the musical side, performers can often be found in public areas, including the tunnels between the pediatric hospital and the cancer hospital. Some patients get bedside visits from musicians like Andrew. (In case you're wondering, the instruments used in the program stay in the hospital and are sterilized before each bedside visit.) Andrew told us a bit about how he was trained to approach these visits.

"It all starts with a knock on the door," he explained. The knock isn't random, however. Each patient's doctor has suggested that he or she might enjoy participating in the program. The musician then works to develop a rapport with the patient, explaining why he's there. The patient is given the opportunity to talk about herself and let the volunteer know if she's feeling up to the visit. If so, she's then given some choices. Andrew's repertoire isn't broad enough to permit song selection, but he does ask whether the patient wants to hear something fast or slow. (He performed examples of both for us, and his playing was a joy.) 

To see a moving example of a bedside session, click here to watch guitarist Ricky Kendall with heart transplant recipient Jamal Davis. As you will see, Jamal happily gets in on the act.

While arts in medicine programs aren't goal-oriented, Andrew noted that positive benefits have been reported. Patients who participate in the program sometimes experience less stress and anxiety. Some require less pain medication. The medical professionals benefit as well, with increased job satisfaction and a greater sense of community. The programs are truly a win-win for all involved.

A huge thanks to Andrew Sanchez for taking the time to share his experiences before heading off to med school. I can't wait to find out what the Medical Grand Rounds series has in store for us next. 





Surviving Hurricane Irma

Bruce photographing what used to be their sea wall. Their dock was still underwater. Let me preface this post by saying my heart go...