One night Adam Blai and I created an interesting light painting photo session. It was a series of photos. Late at night, with music blasting down the halls, we photographed every room on the hotel third floor, placing the large Anubis statue, Egyptian Guardian of the Dead, as the one consistent in every picture. Something was definately in the air that night. This was the photo captured for Room #20.
Adam wrote this passage afterwards about the session:
=======================
Caption for the Photo of Room Number Twenty -by Adam Blai
I’ve been in the Grand Midway Hotel a few times now, but never in its still cool still breath stretched out and down the halls and through doorways leading us to talk for some time, who knows how long, of love, loss, art, and surrender to God, the Jackal headed Anubis waited and listened in silence – with the others with whom we found a night where our schedules turned together and so we fired ourselves and our souls, diving into the Hotel to imagine what form these rooms and things might take to the glass of wine, preparing to wander cold hallways that had come to life listening pensive, furtive, and curious and always out of sight the ghosts were in the bar when I had arrived, that distinctive rush up the back that has become oh so familiar to them so they mostly stayed away while we worked, but something didn’t: that feeling at the back of..."Go away!" but not Anubis posed, once, twice, again sparking magic, but not for long, checked by the cold and the long pavement leading back to life-like strange sounds wound and coiled through the place, the cats agitated and coiling and pressing as we worked loose what secrets might the hotel hold? Would plans come to pass: would we have answers may never be given by this old place, different times were playing, like clocks set to another coast, but theirs was 1880, not a direction where we were the ghosts to them, shadowy people, seemingly oblivious, pointing at things that were not there, talking in voices proving we are the real ghosts of the hotel: the residents sometimes see us, sometimes not, our wispy breath brushing their cheek and sending another child running to tell the story of "The men in the halls".