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Artist’s
Statement
With this project I wanted to convey some of what I had
experienced when visiting the World Trade Center site over the last several
years. I’ve been there five times, the first being in January, 2002. I have
vivid memories of seeing the buildings that surround the perimeter of the
site that very first time. Since most of the site where the towers fell had
been cleared away, the buildings that remained showed the devastation of the
attacks. Thousands of windows were covered in wood, many of the buildings had
large chunks gouged off their tops and sides, the Winter Garden’s greenhouse
glass was piled in large shards, and the entire block of the Deutsche Bank
building was covered in black construction netting. All the buildings evoked
a strong sense of presence, having witnessed the entire series of events.
Upon leaving the site, I walked alongside the memorials
lining the fence of St. Paul’s chapel one block away. St. Paul’s was closed
at that time as it was a place of refuge for the rescue workers. I gained a
great deal of comfort as I learned more about the respite being provided to
the workers recovering the bodies of those that were lost. A year later, I
went inside St. Paul’s when it was open to the public. I was struck by how
colorful and joyful the place was. Large banners and home-made cards sent by
well-wishers lined the pews, all placed within the elegant 17th century
Georgian pink and blue structure.
I then read Father Jim Martin’s book, Searching for God at
Ground Zero. Father Martin is a Jesuit priest who said daily mass on the pile
and ministered to the rescue workers. Upon reading his book, I was better
able to understand the duality that exists in a place of such profound devastation
and the strong presence of God, or a version of a higher power, that I kept
experiencing. Being at Ground Zero, one experiences humanity at its absolute
worst and its absolute best. My hope with this project is to help folks who
are unable to see the site in person to experience, on some small level, that
duality and gain some sense of hope from these events that touched us all. To
help us all further along in our own belief systems – whatever they may be.
Note: The use of recycled garments in this project is
meant to represent both those that were lost and those that remain behind.
The items on the floor represent the way many items were found in the pile,
and those that are hanging are meant to represent their transformation into
another form.
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Press
Release
FITCHBURG – Fitchburg Art Museum presents “THE WITNESS
PROJECT” a multimedia installation
by artist ROBIN MASI which explores
the environment at Ground Zero from September 11, 2001 through June, 2003.
Components include costumes, drawings, areas for audience participation,
recorded interviews and music from noted avant-garde composer and saxophonist
KEN FIELD (Birdsongs of the
Mesozoic, Revolutionary Snake Ensemble).
“THE WITNESS PROJECT” is Masi’s
first solo show at Fitchburg Art Museum. It includes panoramic
black-and-white charcoal drawings recreating the perimeter of the World Trade
Center site in a 360 degree view. In the center of the room is an
installation with 144 wedding rings – the number found among the WTC remains.
Hanging from the ceiling are conceptual costumes which include previously
worn wedding gowns, a priest’s vestment and tuxedo jacket. These have been
collaged with photographs, text from interviews, and line drawings of the
buildings. Graphic material includes newspaper headlines, photographs, and
interview transcripts. The sound component of the installation includes
original music composed by Ken Field, interspersed with interviews with New
Yorkers, including a family who lives in the neighborhood, a Jesuit priest
who ministered to rescue workers and a St. Paul’s Chapel representative.
In the aftermath of the attacks on New York City on September 11, Robin Masi
made several trips to Ground Zero. On her first visit, in January, 2002, Masi
“wasn’t prepared for the impact I experienced from the buildings that
remained. The roofs, tops and sides of the remaining buildings facing the WTC
area were blown out as if they’d been hit by direct enemy fire. The formerly
circular and graceful form of the Winter Garden was now a bombed-out
skeleton. To the right, the Verizon building had lost several of its
decorative crowns, like a king dethroned and left for dead.” At the same
time, Masi found “a macabre beauty in these buildings’ somber, scarred
presence. I knew they had seen it all, silently witnessed the entire
tragedy,” she explains.
In the midst of the devastation, Masi found hope in impromptu memorials on
the fence of St. Paul’s Chapel, and in peoples’ personal stories. “Father
James Martin, who ministered to the rescue workers, said, ‘if you doubt the
presence of evil in the world, come to the World Trade Center. If you doubt
the presence of good in the world, come to the World Trade Center.”
Last fall, ROBIN MASI was a
featured artist in the Fitchburg Art Museum group show, “A NATION MOURNS
AND ARTISTS RESPOND.” Recent work
includes writing, producing and creating costumes for “Vanishing Point,” a
play about Baroque artist Artemisia Gentileschi which was performed in Rome
and New York City. She has also shown work at the Revolving Museum (Lowell,
MA), and The Fulton Gallery (New York). KEN FIELD has performed internationally and at the White
House. He is a founding member of the modern music ensemble Birdsongs of the
Mesozoic.
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Ground Zero
I
have been to Ground Zero in New York City five times, in January and July,
2002 and February and June, 2003 and May, 2004. Each time I’ve stayed for
long periods. Sometimes shooting photographs, sometimes just looking.
In January, upon arriving at the site on Church Street, many of the
surrounding streets were still closed. The air was frigid and I felt
frightened at what I would see. I was first struck by the presence of the
church of St. Paul’s. A brown graceful Georgian structure built in the 18th
century, St. Paul’s is the oldest public building in Manhattan. The church
was frequently visited by General George Washington for services. It has an
intricately detailed steeple with columns, clocks, and a majestic crown
holding a gold flag. St. Paul’s is frequently referred to as a miracle
structure. Despite close proximity to the site it only experienced broken glass.
The building was a haven for the rescue workers, providing food, shelter, and
comfort. Hundreds of memorials of photographs, intimate notes, American
flags, hats, and t-shirts line the fences surrounding the building.
As I walked up the Fulton Street viewing ramp, the church’s cemetery, lined
with old and crumbling gravestones, was on my right foreshadowing what was to
come. The WTC area where the twin towers once stood looked more like a
construction site. The rescue workers had removed much of the 1.5 million
tons of debris. Trucks were lined up ready to collect what was left.
Excavators were present, strained from months of picking through and gently
moving the sacred remains with their hydraulic arms. The rescue workers,
stoic and efficient, revealed nothing of the horrors they had seen.
Having only seen the site on television or in the newspaper, I wasn’t
prepared for the impact I experienced from the buildings that remained.
Many of the roofs, tops and sides of the remaining buildings facing the WTC
area were blown out as if they’d been hit by direct enemy fire. Directly in
front of me, the formerly circular and graceful form of the Winter Garden was
a now a bombed-out skeleton. To the right, the Verizon building had lost
several of its’ decorative crowns, like a king dethroned and left for dead.
There was one building I was particularly drawn to – the Banker’s Trust or
Deutsche Bank building. In 1999 the German bank had purchased the building
along with the Banker’s Trust Corporation. From the Fulton Street ramp the
building stands to the left of the site. The monumental elegant building was
now shrouded in black construction material due to the danger it posed to the
people below. A huge gash was visible on the side of the building facing the
WTC site where remnants from the South Tower had pierced approximately
twenty-four floors of the structure when it fell. The crumbling guts of the
building’s open wound were revealed through the torn, tattered construction
fabric. From the top hung a large American flag. Next to it, the Cass/Gilbert
building, formerly an Art Deco architectural showpiece, had large crumbling
sections goughed out of its’ waffle-like form.
There was a macabre beauty in all the buildings’ somber, scarred presence. I
knew they had seen it all, silently witnessed the entire tragedy.
When I
returned to the WTC site in July of the same year, much of the site where the
towers once stood was in the early stages of the rebuilding process. More
streets were re-opened and people were going about their daily lives. Plans
were underway to replace what had been lost. The Fulton Street viewing
platform was closed as much of the site was under new construction. It was a
hot, humid day. I drank several bottles of expensive water from the many street
vendors selling homemade scrapbooks containing photographs of the bombings.
As I turned the corner and looked to the left I saw the large Deutsche Bank
building. No longer cordoned off, I could now walk around the base of the
building. The back side facing away from the site was unshrouded, panes of
glass gleaming in the afternoon sun. As I followed its’ powerful form up to
the blue sky I could see what an awesome presence this building had once
been.
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A brightly painted “Thank You” flag from the families of the victims hung
below the American flag on the side facing the site. Aside from a new black
shroud, that was all that had changed on the building from my visit six
months before.
“In litigation,” said a burly worker, sweating in a white tank top. It seemed
stuck in a lifeless place while others were moving on.
I walked back to the St. Paul’s church. Although still closed to the public,
the church was getting ready for a good cleaning having functioned as a 24/7
respite for the past nine months. The memorials lining the church’s fence
were more weathered-looking. Regular services were to resume at St. Paul’s in
late summer.
I went back to Ground Zero two more times in 2003. In February, I was able to
go inside St. Paul’s for the first time. An exhibition was in place
documenting the nine months of ministry performed by over 5000 volunteers.
Artifacts including aspirin bottles, foot lotion, massage tables, and
blankets/pillows displayed the comfort that was offered there.
The interior was much grander than the more modest exterior I had come to
know so well. It was newly painted in bright pink and blue. Lavish
chandeliers with ornate Corinthian columns and the baroque gold and white
vestibule were juxtaposed with brightly painted homemade banners with
messages to the rescue workers from all over the world. Scarred and scratched
pews were the only remaining evidence of the physical sacrifices the building
had made.
The piece at the center of the altar entitled “Glory” struck me at once. It
was sculpted by Pierre L’Enfante, architect of Washington D.C. Billowy white
clouds surrounded straight ornate gold forms signifying Mount Sinai in the
clouds. In the center of the form was a tablet with the Ten Commandments. It
was hung in front of a large paned glass window. It seemed to evoke a sense
of splendor and light. I imagined the exhausted workers looking at the
altarpiece and feeling some sense of relief and hope.
In June, 2003 I interviewed five different New Yorkers who described to me
their experiences on that day and afterwards living in New York city. I made
my fourth trip to the site.
Most of the other buildings at Ground Zero were in the same visible condition
as I discovered during my very first visit almost eighteen months earlier.
The Verizon building’s crowns were still under repair, and the Cass/Gilbert
building had a new white tarp with a large heart with an American flag
concealing its’ scarred structure. Only the Winter Garden was fully restored
and was the site of the new WTC site architectural and memorial awards.
The Deutsche Bank building remained unchanged, unable or unwilling to move
on. The flag and sign were taken down, yet the black shroud was firmly in
place. Its’ powerful and mournful form continues to dominate the entire area.
The day I returned home I found out the Deutsche Bank building will be
demolished in the coming months as it has finally been deemed irreparable.
I was back again for the fifth time in May, 2004 and took my 9 year old son
for the first time. The PATH subway station has a soaring new entryway and is
operable, and the temporary memorial documenting the events is still
evolving. The Verizon, Cass/Gilbert, and Deutsche Bank buildings remain the
same. The memorials on the St. Paul's Chapel fence keep appearing and the
third anniversary of the events is several months away.
Robin Masi
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