Also this issue: After Saddam, What? -Howard Altman R.I.P. DOA -Bruce Schimmel Letters to the Editor

September 26-October 2, 2002

slant

Remember

by William W. Lewis

A sculpture displayed in the underground concourse at Rockefeller Center recently depicts a larger-than-life image of a woman; naked, limbs flailing as she hits the sidewalk after leaping from the World Trade Center.

The sculpture, titled Tumbling Woman, is by Eric Fischl.

As might be expected, the sculpture drew comments from "awful" to "disgusting." Indeed it is. It is grotesque. What image could be more horrible than seeing men and women leap to their deaths from those burning buildings? Of all the horrid images of that horrid day, none really compare to the falling bodies.

A plaque bearing a poem accompanies the sculpture, and reads in part:

"We watched

disbelieving and helpless

on that savage day.

People we love

began falling,

helpless and in disbelief"

Within 48 hours, the sculpture was covered and hastily removed after a public outcry at the insensitivity of the piece. More than 20,000 people responded to a CNN online poll, with 61 percent agreeing that the offending sculpture was rightfully removed. An AOL poll generated similar percentages, with more than 40,000 responding.

Without doubt, many who came upon this sculpture must have felt disbelief. What sort of twisted mind would create an image of a woman at the instant of her death to remind us of it? What sort of sordid imagination would get in our face with this horror? What sort of memory is this of those who died?

A year after that infamous day, there is discussion of what will be placed on the site of the World Trade Center and how to memorialize the event. Many of the suggestions are heroic: rebuild the buildings exactly as they were or even taller. Parks, plazas and promenades abound in both official and unofficial suggestions. As far as I can tell, none of the suggestions offers a replica of planes hitting the buildings. Indeed, our tendency is to memorialize with images of hope, not of despair. Certain memorials, however, are different.

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington is one of the most visited memorials in that city. When the winning design for that memorial was unveiled, controversy erupted. The stark black "gash" on the Mall, home of the Washington Monument and just yards from the heroic Lincoln Memorial, was considered by opponents to be a blight, a painful and stunning reminder of our agony, multiplied by 58,000 names. Supporters threatened to withhold funding, and tempers flared for over a year during the planning and construction of "The Wall."

The Wall turns 20 this Nov. 11. Like others, I have been there scores of times, and each time the memories and the sadness and the loss returns. It is painful as I read names of those I knew. I see their faces, I hear their voices, and I remember. A pain never goes away, a memory etched on the Wall, and in my mind.

When I saw a picture of the falling woman sculpture, I was repulsed and angry. I flashed back to the video of those falling bodies. That someone would create such a monstrosity was nothing short of disgusting. But like the Wall, the effect was clear: It made me remember. It jolted me back to that day that I want to forget but should not. I do not have the right to forget, I have a duty to remember. I owe it to those I never knew to remember. I owe it to them if only to utter the phrase "never again."

We can and should build a heroic memorial on the WTC site. It is both a statement of defiance and a testament to our determination as Americans. But such a memorial will allow us to forget. Our minds will heal, and we will forget the images, forget the explosions, forget the crumbling towers and most of all, forget the falling bodies. If we do these things, we will dishonor those who died. Images and sculptures like Tumbling Woman will help us remember.

Eyewitnesses reported that the impact of bodies hitting the sidewalk sounded like explosions. What terror did those people experience that drove them out the windows and to their sure death? Can we imagine it? Certainly not. Can we remember it in its graphic horror? We should and we must.

Some of the most memorable images of the Holocaust are the graphic photographs of concentration camp prisoners. Starved, emaciated and dying, their hollowed eyes stare at us as though saying "remember, remember." The tumbling woman tells us the same thing. As we see this woman, a daughter, perhaps a wife, maybe a mother, slamming into the sidewalk, we have one duty ... remember.

William W. Lewis is a web designer and adjunct professor who lives in New Jersey. If you would like to respond to this Slant or have one of your own (850 words), contact Howard Altman, City Paper executive editor, 123 Chestnut St., third floor, Phila., PA 19106 or e-mail altman@citypaper.net.