As the 10th anniversary of 9/11 winds down here in New York, I wanted to post a few images of a friend's public art project from this weekend: He drew one of the Twin Towers in chalk along Fifth Avenue from 14th Street to 19th Street. Every ten feet marked for each floor. A cup of chalk at each floor, a gentle encouragement to write a memory, thought, image. I shot these Friday morning, spending an hour watching as people interacted. Fed Ex drivers carefully wheeling packages around the cups. People taking pictures. Drawing. Crying. One woman picked up several cups in anger, throwing them out. A couple followed her, picked up the cups, and put them back. I think the last image summed it up for me the most. I watched the Towers hit, burn, fall 8 blocks away from my apartment. Had the ghost of the buildings, the white cloud, envelope me. Spent the nights that followed burning candles in my windows, the electricity cut off, to let the police officers stationed each night on my corner know I was there. I remember the day. The days. I think it's important that we remember. That we share what we witnessed. Again. Again. And again.
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