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Monday, December 30 A Time for Even Candles to Move On
I walked by the Bolivar Arellano Gallery I’ve written about this place before, as some of you may recall. This is the mom and pop gallery on East 9th Street in Manhattan owned by photographer Bolivar and his adorable wife who’s name, god help me, I can never remember. I call her “Mrs. Arellano with the perpetually twinkling eyes.” The Arellano’s have dedicated their lives since “911” to caring for this unusual haven; a gallery filled with September 11th photographs taken predominantly by NYC daily newspaper photographers as well as the work of one New York fireman turned amateur photographer. Bolivar himself, a “New York Post” photographer was at the WTC on September 11th and was injured in the collapse. His work is amongst the most haunting on exhibit. He has captured the jumpers, in mid-air. They look like reluctant angels. Because of the graphic photos in the exhibit there is a warning sign at the door. It is necessary. There are two photos on the show, that can not be copied for sale. One is a severed hand sitting amongst the rubble.The other is the remnant of a body. One of the fireman has said, “That’s all we saw when we first got there. After awhile you just didn’t see it anymore. It didn’t connect.” Digital copies of each photo are offered for sale. All of the profit goes to “The Uniformed Firefighters NYPD Widows and Children Fund, The EMS Command Memorial Foundation” and “The Father Mychal Judge Fund.” But what is perhaps most special about this exhibit is not what is hanging from the walls, but what has happened inside this tiny cramped space. Relatives have come to see the last known photograph of their loved one, now gone. There is the NYPD officer who has shown up in five different shots saving lives. He is gone, but his family has now been able to see for themselves the images of his heroism. There is the photo of the group of fireman walking towards the towers. In the photograph one of the men has dropped something and bends over to pick it up. His wife was brought to tears by this. “He was always dropping things.” she said crying. None of the men survived.
There are small exhibits in the gallery; a red haired child’s doll, one of the few remnants to survive from Dutchess Sarah Ferguson’s children’s charity. There is a uniform of a fireman now lost. In one case is the dust covered clothing worn by Bolivar that terrible day. While most of us have moved on…even it seems myself…the Arellano’s have stayed behind, holding the torch, tending over this labor of love. It has become a clubhouse of sorts for firemen and a place for many to cry. I have visited the space often. I think of it as a candle perpetually burning for those lost lives. The Arellanos raised 50,000 for charity and have managed to keep their doors open even beyond the one year anniversary that was their initial goal. Now with a farewell party for the photographers, they too will move on. They can no longer afford to keep the exhibit open. They must return to this thing called making money. “Bolivar is going to ask the photographers for permission to put the show up every September for the month.” Mrs. Arellano says. They will also keep selling copies of the photos for charity via their web site. Some of the work will be taken in by The Library of Congress. They hope some will be taken by a Museum. Mrs. Arellano with the twinkling eyes, almost breaks down in tears as I talk to her. She has a personal connection to every photograph, which she lovingly dusts. She has met royalty, celebrities, politicians and sports heroes in this tiny place but it is clearly the uniformed heroes of “911” that she holds her highest esteem for. “Maybe it’s good. Maybe it’s time for us to move on,” she says bravely. “Would you stay if you could afford to?” I ask. “Yes,” she says softly. I have the sense that she would stay forever.
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