These shovels were all found on the beach, on September 11, 2001. I was only 50 miles from ground zero but felt very very far away. During the long hours of wondering, disbelieving, mourning, I sought periodic refuge on the beach. There was a hurricane offshore and the waves were huge, thunderous, stacked three or four deep, with spindrift wisping in the wind. The foam reminded me of the smoke from the collapsing buildings. The crash of the surf reminded me of the horrifying and unnatural sound of buildings falling.

These childrens’ toys were cast up on the shore by the surf like gifts. I thought about the children losing parents, the parents losing children. I timed my breathing with the ebb and flow of the waves. It helped me remember to breathe.

Buildings are fragile, people even more so.

I made this piece in honor of those lost in the terrorist attacks of 9/11/01.

For Andy.