NYC Rebuilds With Its Will to Create

Author: Elizabeth Logue

Things had returned to normalcy in Manhattan for the most part. What was perhaps the greatest tragedy our nation has ever known had, somehow, evolved into an amalgam of Sept. 11 exhibits, concerts and memorials that seemed to have always been part of the city's landscape. Then, in the late morning of April 25, New Yorkers stood frozen in windows of office buildings, unable to see smoke billowing from an explosion in the Chelsea area of Manhattan reported by news networks.

The city was reminded for an instant what it was like to feel fear. It turned out to be an industrial accident that had partly toppled a building. Because it was not another attack, we were safe again.

It could be argued, though, that New Yorkers feel safe only because we have lost too much to fear anything more.

How can a city cope with a gaping hole in lower Manhattan if it fears another tragedy? I believe it cannot, and one of the city's primary coping methods has been to relive Sept. 11 artistically through documentaries, photography and writing, thus reminding itself that it cannot possibly get any worse.

The Sept. 11 documentary presented by French filmmakers Gedeon and Jules Naudet, which aired on the six-month anniversary of the tragedy, was perhaps the most widely publicized. The stars of the two-hour movie were the firemen, policemen and those who worked in the World Trade Center buildings.

The same common subjects have been the focus of the many photo essays published in the aftermath of the attack.

The distinction between artist and victim that has elsewhere been sharp has blurred in the images captured on Sept. 11 and in the days after because the artist was arguably as much a victim as those on the high floors of the World Trade Center. The Towers were merely symbolic. They symbolized our freedom, our prosperity and our way of life.

The artists who captured images at Ground Zero, in essence, defied everything the attackers intended to convey the morning of Sept. 11 — that freedom can be crushed.

The snapping of a camera and the relentless rolling of film, capturing unity of victims, rescuers, Americans and friends proved that only buildings had been knocked down. America, however scarred, was still standing.

Now, the graphic images are still very much a part of New York and its libraries and bookstores. But art has more recently made a departure from the actual tragedy to the documentation of the days since Sept. 11, not necessarily referring directly to that day of infamy.

A downtown exhibit, for example, featured the art and writing of New York City school children. Some of the artwork depicted a smoking World Trade Center, but still others featured a serene skyline without the Towers, poetry and portraits unrelated to Sept. 11.

The exhibit, entitled "Kids Respond to a World in Crisis," is meant to be a healing process for children and adults, even if the art that is being created comes from within oneself, seemingly removed from Sept. 11.

Exhibits continue to open and close at the Metropolitan, the Guggenheim and other museums, all without reference to the tragedy.

Broadway and off-Broadway shows are running full time, and out-of-town companies are touring again to New York without the heartfelt, carefully-worded dedications to the city's losses.

These events imply that it is not about forgetting, but rather it is about moving on, and in doing so, channeling our energy through artistic diversions.

This commitment to creation — by the artists and their supporters — proves that not only are New Yorkers capable of being inspired by other things, but it also proves that the will to create is far stronger than the power to destroy.