Heard about an amazing organization that's just starting, called September Space.
What SS is doing is something I've been thinking about for a long time, dealing not only with the victims of September 11th but with the first wave of volunteers, what they call the "first responders."
They will offer a social space, counseling, art therapy and many other great services where the men, women and children affected by the disaster can come.
I think this is so wonderful because while all the help to the victims and the rescue crews was and is crucial, the volunteers who saw all that atrocity need help, too.
I think about myself. I don't know if you could call me a first responder (or what exactly dictates a first responder) because I did not make my way to ground zero until September 16th -- five days later, but to this day there seems to be nothing in my life, not changed by my experiences down there. and by watching the towers collapse on September 11th.
I'm one of the lucky ones. I lost no loved ones. I was not in or around ground zero on September 11th. I did not dig out body parts with my hands or fight fires. All I did was feed the rescue crews and go on gator-aid runs to "the hole."
With the exception of my first night there when the hotel next to us, The Millennium, was considered unstable, I did not fear for my life and I sustained no injuries, unless you count a lot of dust up my nose.
Yet here I am, all these months later.
I wake up every morning and look out the window to make sure The Empire State Building is still there.
I feel like crying whenever I see a firefighter.
My heart crawls into my throat at the sight of a plane descending, (they always seem to be flying too low).
When I look at any construction site I always drift back to the smoking wreck that was the WTC.
The list goes on.
So do the good things that have happened to me, hopefully, permanently.
I pet my cats more.
I say "I love you" to my family and to my friends.
I try to make sure that I am always doing something, anything for someone besides myself.
I think about Israel -- a lot.
After September 11th, I went back to painting and discovered that without planning on it, or even trying, my work had changed. The colors were softer ... child-friendly.
I talked to other artists whose work had also changed in the most surprising way. Not what you might think: their work filling not with fear and anger but the opposite.
"I used to make films and collages," said my new friend Lisa. "Now I make dolls."
Maybe it's the need to create something soft and comforting to balance all the pain we've seen. I don't know. I'm not a therapist.
My friend Nancy said stopping trying to figure out the why and just live it.
That sounds like a great plan.
I decided to come out of retirement.
18 years ago I used to produce art shows.
I'm co-producing one now to show case how September11th has changed the work of many artists, especially here in NYC.
It's going to be a huge show of multimedia artists, ranging from painters to installation artists, video artists and performance artists.
We're giving all the profit to the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, the nonprofit that used to be housed in the WTC. They're the ones who supplied free artists studios in the towers. Now they're between homes.
I like the idea of artists surviving and moving past September 11th, helping to raise money for an organization that supports artists.
Artists for artists; a self-supporting, self-healing thing you might say.
History tells us that it's always the artists and the writers who preserve time. How would we know about so many things that happened a thousand years ago, if not for the statues, the poetry, the paintings?
I wonder if the artwork from this time, will one day be given a name. There was Cubism, Surrealism. Will this be Septemberism?
I'm looking forward to visiting the September Space. I may even show my work there. I'm certain to volunteer there.
September Space has managed to do the one thing no one else has been able to do: convince me that it's all right to consider myself a victim, that it's okay to let myself realize that I was damaged, too.
I'm in the midst of repairs at the moment. The sign posted on my forehead reads, "Caution. Road work ahead. Reduce speed."
I plan on re-building myself, perhaps with some help, a bit stronger and a lot softer.
Wanna know what my favorite TV show was as a kid? The Bionic Woman.
OH! FYI, here's the info for the art show, in case you're in NYC in May.
