370

HERE IS NEW YORK. IMAGES FROM

THE FRONTLINE OF HISTORY: A DEMOCRACY OF PHOTOGRAPHS

Reviewed by Kathleen McLean, Directorof the Center for Public Exhibition andPublic Programs, The Exploratorium.

• • •

On a cold December afternoon, havingjust made a pilgrimage to my old NewYork neighborhood—the site of theWorld Trade Center collapse—I was des-perate for some place warm and lively.Yet as a long-time advocate of more pop-ulist perspectives in exhibitions, I knew Ihad to experience HERE IS NEW YORK.Images from the Frontline of History: ADemocracy of Photographs on display in asmall storefront on Prince Street in Soho.I had heard that this was a truly demo-cratic exhibition: all photographs relatedto September 11, 2001 and the WorldTrade Center would be included in theexhibition, no matter who submittedthem.

People filled the sidewalk in front ofthe gallery, and as we waited in line, wewatched video images of the event on ascreen in the window. When we enteredthe exhibition, a volunteer asked that westart at the very back of the room andwork our way forward, following the natu-ral flow of people. Signs explained thatthe photographs were for sale, each for$25.00, with the proceeds going to theChildren’s Aid Society WTC Relief Fund.

All photographs were treated as equal:all were scanned and digitally printed, allthe same size, with only numbers for iden-

tification. They were attached with blackmetal binder clips to strings stretched inrows three to four high along every wallsurface, as well as across the width of theroom. At the back of the gallery hung alarge, eerily prescient quote, also clippedto a string:

The city, for the first time in its long history, is

destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger

than a wedge of geese can quickly end this

island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the

bridges, turn the underground passages into

lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The

intimation of mortality is part of New York

now: in the sound of jets overhead, in the

black headlines of the latest edition.

—E. B. White, Here Is New York, 1949

I joined the rest of the visitors as,shoulder-to-shoulder, we shuffled alongwalls, back and forth across the silentroom. Every so often, a story would floatup, as someone recounted personal eventsof that day. Viewing the too familiar andhorrible images was oddly comforting, asif our presence amidst these slips ofpaper, only blocks from the actual site,was a collective act of witness. Theanonymity and simplicity of the installa-tion made it possible for us to own andshare the burden of the experience for thebrief time we were in the room together.No voice of authoritative interpretationinterfered with our viewing; no name of avalued maker spun our attention.

In one corner of the room, foldingtables held computers, monitors, andscanners—a workspace for those whobrought their images to the collection.

EXHIBITIONREVIEW

Curator 43/4 file (93) 4/11/02 1:39 PM Page 370

Several flyers described the exhibition ori-gins and intent, explained the process forpurchasing photos, and announced a sec-ond version of the exhibition concurrentlyon view in Berkeley, California. One ofthe volunteers told me that literally hun-dreds of photographs had been submittedin the few weeks the exhibition had beenopen, way too many to display in thespace. All the images were being collectednevertheless, and were included in agrowing archive that will be used forresearch purposes. He gave me the Website address to access from home<www.hereisnewyork.org>.

Back in Berkeley a week later, I visitedthe same exhibition at the University ofCalifornia’s Center for Photography. Themorning I arrived, there were only twoother people in the exhibition, which wasinstalled in the Graduate School ofJournalism. The photographs were simi-larly displayed with binder clips on stringalong the windowed walls of an L-shapedhallway. An introductory statementdescribed the project and included a photoof the New York installation with visitors.One addition to the exhibition, “Bay AreaPhotographers Shoot 9.11,” was installedon a small bulletin board nearby. The onlyentry when I was there contained threesmall photographs and a note:

It is hard to explain why I have felt so com-

pelled to get these photos into the HERE IS

NEW YORK show, but seeing the pictures you

have up only reinforces that feeling for me.

I’m really glad you brought them here. I hope

you can include the(se) photos in the show.

By midday, the hall had more visitors,and the space took on some of the charac-ter of the Soho space—the whispers, the

pointing and lingering, the stories. Areceptionist told me that this was the mostwell-attended of all their exhibitions, anda number of people who visited this showhad been to the one in New York as well.

I couldn’t resist comparing the twoexhibitions. Although both exhibitionsdisplayed the same material, the contextu-al psychology of each situation had amarked effect on my experience. In NewYork, the solemnity of waiting in line, thedensity of people inside the gallery, andthe proximity to the actual site all con-tributed to a sense of focus I did not expe-rience in the Berkeley exhibition. By com-parison, the lack of people in the Berkeleyexhibition, the animated conversations inadjacent offices describing holiday vaca-tions and shifting class schedules, thebright sunlight streaming through the wallof windows, which looked out onto a gar-den courtyard, all distanced me from theevent. Certainly, a more contained exhibi-tion space would have lessened the prob-lem. But even the signs hung every fewfeet between the photographs—“Pleaserespect the community spirit of this exhib-it. Do not touch or remove any photos.”—reflected an emotional dissociation. Bycomparison, I saw no such signs in NewYork, even on the curbside shrines sprin-kled with coins and jewelry. For me, therewas just enough distance in New York,and too much distance in Berkeley.

But the distance didn’t seem to matterto the visitors I spoke with. They weresimply grateful for the opportunity to seethe exhibition, were focused enough tostay in the exhibition for an hour orlonger, and were eager to talk about theirexperiences afterwards. In both exhibi-tions, the images told unimaginable and still unfolding stories, in portraits,

CURATOR 43/4 • OCTOBER 2000 371

Curator 43/4 file (93) 4/11/02 1:39 PM Page 371

still-life, and landscapes. Some were clear-ly works of art, while others served as evi-dence of the event from every perspective,every second documented by hundreds ofphotographers.

The scope of the event compelled suchimage-making, just as the exhibitionrequired an egalitarian contribution of

images. It was a profound example of thepower of collective expression: all per-spectives were valued equally, without theintense emotional spin from televisionanchors, and without the dense art worldcommentary that tends toward abstrac-tion. The unmediated images, as visualremains, truly spoke for themselves.

372 EXHIBITION REVIEW

Curator 43/4 file (93) 4/11/02 1:39 PM Page 372