The House Next Door

Photographed by Ken Cancelosi in August, 2000, standing on the Madison Green apartment complex at E. 22nd and Broadway.

God Bless NYC

Thanks for the elegant recognition of this heavy, heavy day.

Let these words hereby transform themselves into respectful silence.

In 2000, this son of the Northern Plains made his first real visit to NYC on business. I had been there a time or two before on connecting international flights from JFK but had only enjoyed the NYC skyline from afar and up high.

After my business was conducted that first day, I took the tourist ferry tour from the west side of Manhattan to the East River and back. I snapped a photo of the Twin Towers at sunset. The towers were resplendent in the warm light. It was classic New York.

Before 911, it was one of my favorite photosgraphs that I had taken. After, it was one of the most moving.

Matt, thanks for the great photo and a great statement about this sad day.

Matt, a lovely photo. I especially like the quote on the poster in the foreground (leave it to me to put the subtext out there as text, I guess).

My mother took a photo of the twin towers on her visit to NYC (oddly enough on Sept. 11, 2000). It's shot from a low angle, looking up, making them look more imposing than usual, the sun just barely peaking over the tower on the left. It's not an especially good photograph (composition wise) but it became a moving one.

Thanks for the wonderful tribute.

Todd Epp: One of the things I loved most about the towers was the way they caught and reflected the light in the sky, and seemed almost to merge with the sky, whether it was sunny or cloudy, day or night.

Todd: Sometime after the towers were destroyed, I read a piece saying that they were not simply skyscrapers, but arguably the largest freestanding abstract sculpture in history. That was how I felt about them, and I guess that's why I fell in love with Ken's photo.

There are several ironies at play here. One is that if the towers were aesthetically significant -- and I think they were, even if you didn't like them -- then they are a kind of art; when Ken took the photo, there was no way of knowing that they were not permanent. Second, contrary to what that billboard in the foreground says, art is not forever -- only some art -- and on top of that, even the most towering works inevitably recede over time, becoming essential for people who care about such things, but trivia answers for everyone else. So the obvious reading of the photo -- the towers are gone, but art lives forever -- is subverted as well.

Plus, something about the relative punyness of the towers in the background somehow makes them seem even more immense than if they were photographed looming over you. The picture reminds me that the towers were not just office buildings, but a visual anchor for lower Manhattan; it used to be that if you exited the subway anywhere below 34th St. and got turned around, all you had to do was walk until you could see the World Trade Center, and you could reorient yourself. Now the compass is gone, along with everything else.

I remember the first time I flew back to NYC after 9/11, the skyline just looked wrong.

Ed: I had a similar experience, flying back to NYC from Florida three weeks after the attacks. From the air, the crater looked more than surreal, it looked otherworldly, glowing bright white thanks to the stadium lights illuminating the round-the-clock recovery effort. It looked like a meteorite had hit lower Manhattan.

everytime I was down there at the World Trade Center, like a little kids I would always look up up up those towers. And I remember the silence of looking out onto the world, seeing the the curve of the earth from the outdoor observation deck.