Reflection

Artists reflect in the most interesting ways.

Today is the tenth anniversary of the attacks on the United States we now refer to simply as 9/11. I began the day with this facebook status: "i've been trying to find the right words to say how i feel about today. maybe it's more perfect that i can't find any words. remembrance. always." 

I think now I have some words. Maybe not words so much as a reflection. 

A couple of days ago I discovered the New York Times video feature called "The 9/11 Decade: Artists Reflect" (linked above). NYTimes discussed the tragedy and the last decade with eight artists from various artistic disciplines. I've watched most of the videos so far (and will surely make it through all of them). I think it is so interesting to listen to the way an artist processes an event of this caliber. For the most part, it seems, they find away to connect with 9/11 on a personal level, a concentrated level instead of in a big picture way. I encourage you to watch these videos. 

I too connect with 9/11 in as personal a way as I can. It's how I make sense of the world in general and the only way I know how to make sense of such a big event. As a playwright, I have attempted to tackle the subject focusing on the aftermath of 9/11 on the relationship of two sisters. The younger sister, Joni, is struggling to move on with her life when there is no one left to take care of. The older sister, Claire, is struggling to be the guidance for her floundering younger sister.

Joni focuses on remembrance: "You never had to sit down with mom's grief either. You weren't here to watch any of it. 'Don't bother your sister at school.' She said that almost daily. She desperately wanted you to be around but she didn't want to bother you. She was spiraling. She did the opposite of this. She stopped eating. She stopped getting out of bed. Then she stopped breathing. I had to sit there and watch her disappear. Once we decided papa was really gone, her soul left with him. It was her empty body that stayed behind. Those five years were the most painful of my life. There was nothing I could do for her. No amounts of walks in the park or old movies. No amount of reassurance could ever bring her back from the rubble." 

Claire seeks retribution: "Oh, enough with that already! Listen to me. I did take the easy way out. I was afraid.  It was easier to redirect my anger into something else. Law. Law is intense and requires all the energy you have. And I chose International Law. I had a whole world of things to learn. It distracted me; it still distracts me. And that way, if it comes down to it, I can prosecute the people who fucked up my family. But no, you are so right Joni. I never sat down with my grief, as you put it. Because sitting down with your grief adds two hundred pounds and makes you useless to society. But I‟m sure you know something about that."

I think I tend to lean more towards remembrance, as Joni does. I personally, didn't know anyone on the east side of the country. The most personal connection I had to the World Trade Center was a desire to visit Windows on the World, a restaurant at the top of the one of the towers. My mom and I had decided that for my graduation present we would go to New York City and that would be one of our stops. 

But that was still years away. When the first plane hit the first tower I was in my first week of high school. The minute my mom opened the door and said "A plane just flew into the World Trade Center and they don't think it was an accident," my life was dissected in two. A cliched as it sounds there was innocence before, and fear, cynicism, and adulthood after. Most days, I honestly do not remember my life before 9/11 because it seems to me, it has always been this way. This is the world I operate in and I do my best to get by. Scratch that, I do my best to figure out how I can thrive in modernity. 

As a person, I'm still exploring ways to make sense of what happened ten years ago and 3000 miles away from where I was at the time. As an artist, the same is true. 

Everyone has a different way of dealing with a tragedy. Some dwell, some run, some are touch and go. Some people's lives have stopped and will stop in the future because of 9/11. My goal is simply to honor the memory and delve into the story in anyway I can. My goal is to listen to the collective silence that settles over the country every now and then. It is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

Can you hear it?