Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Tuesday.

Tyler had a good idea. I don't think that this was quite what he was talking about, but this is how it came out. This was my post-09.11 art.

Slayer: GOD HATES US ALL. Release date, 09.11.01. Are these guys plugged in or what? Sorry, but if you're not listening to Slayer then you're just not listening.

David Letterman. 09.17.01.

Richard Pettibone's opening at Curt Marcus on Broadway about a month and a half after 9/11. I wasn't familiar with Pettibone's work before this. How I got to this show isn't important. What was important was how it whispered in my ear, "We also do this."


Maya Lin's Peace Chapel on Thanksgiving Day, 2001. Home.


Steve Roach. Structures from Silence. I read later that they had used this as background music on MTV's The Real World for the September 11 episode. This made sense to me. It had provided me with solace for 15 years before 9/11. It was no different after that day.

Tribute in Light.


Sonic Garden. Thanksgiving Day, 2002. I stayed in town for the holiday in 2002. Thanksgiving morning I went to the Winter Garden to listen. All four pieces remembered the past while marking the path forward.

Coil's Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. Although released in 2000, the title alone cuts in every appropriate direction imaginable in regards to the events of and the events flowing from 09.11. The music cuts even deeper. This one goes out to all the fools.


Spalding Gray barely able to dance at an after-party for some premiere at the first TriBeCa Film Festival. Not because he was inebriated, but because he couldn't move. Still frozen, just like the rest of us.

David Bowie: "New Killer Star". Specifically the first two lines. "See the great white scar/Over Battery Park." Over and over and over and over.

Paul Chan's 1st Light at 2006 Whitney Biennial. The way things fall.


J. Meejin Yoon's Absence. I came across this at The Big Nothing exhibition at the ICA in Philly. As the piece unfolded, the tears came. I stood there for a moment, silently stunned. When I turned around the art world's best security guard, Linda Harris, said to me, "That nothing sure is something, isn't it?" Yes, Linda. Yes, it is.

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